Driving home, Mark was thinking about Daisy Evans, the missing little girl. There had been no evidence of a forced entry, and he was considering the possible involvement of the parents in her disappearance, in particular the father’s. Although Michael Evans had been caught having sex with a girl who was only just past the age of consent, Mark believed he hadn’t known how old she was. The guy was an ex-footballer, and the girl was a member of his fan club. She was apparently besotted with him, and had told him she was eighteen. It didn’t make what he’d done much more palatable, but her friends had corroborated his version of events. He’d had pornographic images on his PC, but nothing illegal. No suspect images or messages on his phone. He also had an alibi for the time in which his daughter disappeared. Mark wasn’t enamoured of the man any more than he was of Cummings – who, laughably, had adopted a stance of moral outrage at Evans’ ‘obvious sexual exploitation of a sixteen-year-old’ – but the guy’s anguish had been palpable.

The meeting with the mother had been harrowing. Mark’s initial assumption on learning the parents had been arguing, so drunk they hadn’t noticed their child was missing, had been a kneejerk reaction, one born of his own childhood memories of cowering in corners as arguments escalated. It had prejudiced his thinking. Daisy’s mother had been beyond devastated, blaming herself. She’d broken down as they left. Pausing on the drive of the house, a detached country property worth a fair sum, Mark had heard her heaving sobs as the front door closed. Whatever the future of their relationship, if Daisy wasn’t found, God help them, the parents would both blame themselves for the rest of their lives.

Dammit. Frustrated, Mark banged the heel of his hand against his steering wheel. They had to find her. But where? Sighing, he ran a hand wearily over his neck. He needed some downtime. He needed to check his girls were warm and safe in their beds, and touch base with Mel. He wished he could do more than touch base… her warm body up close was an appealing thought right now. Whatever shit he was dealing with, he always felt safe in her arms. She reckoned he’d been her white knight; that somehow he’d saved her, but Mark knew it was the other way around. He’d had relationships before her – too many, because with no role models in his life, he didn’t know how to do relationships – but Mel had shown him how, made him believe that love was possible, that he was a fully functioning, normal person, despite his dysfunctional background and his conviction that bad blood would out and he would inherit the traits of his abusive father. She’d made him believe in himself, because she’d believed in him. She’d loved him. His love for her… it scared him sometimes. The all-consuming love he felt for his children terrified him. His family were his lifeblood. He simply wouldn’t know how to be without them.

Noting Mel’s car wasn’t there as he pulled into the drive, it took a second before Mark remembered her art class. It looked like she’d gone after all. Who was watching the kids? Their last babysitter, though she’d come recommended, hadn’t been up to much. Or rather, she had, if coming home early to find her in a steamy clinch on the sofa with her boyfriend had been any indication. Neither he nor Mel were prudish, but the cider the guy had brought with him was definitely not on. Emily, a mutual friend, helped out when she could, but weren’t the Chandlers away on holiday?

Mark checked his mobile as he walked to the front door, only to find the battery had died, which might explain why he hadn’t received a text from Mel. She would undoubtedly have sent him one. The lights were on, he noted. The TV, too. Peering around the lounge door, he saw that it was empty, though the knot of worry in his stomach was quashed at the obvious signs of normalcy. He headed upstairs, figuring the kids would be in bed and the babysitter might be checking on them.

Poppy’s door was ajar, and he could see her fast asleep in bed, Hercules curled up protectively at her feet. Mark breathed out a breath he hadn’t realised he was holding in. Then, instructing Hercules to stay, he carried on towards the nursery, where he stopped and cocked his head to one side. Well that was a bloody relief. Tugging his collar loose, Mark listened for a second at the partially open door before going in. It seemed they did have a new babysitter, and she sang like an angel.

‘Hush, little baby, don't say a word,’ came a melodic voice from inside. ‘Mama's going to buy you a mockingbird. If that mockingbird won't sing, Mama's going to buy you a diamond ring.’ Mark pushed the door open, and then, noting she had her back towards him, Evie nestled on her shoulder, he waited again rather than frighten her. He was mildly amused when she skipped straight to the last verse, obviously not knowing the words in between: ‘Hush, little baby, don't you cry, Daddy loves you and so do I.’

Smiling, Mark tapped on the door as she started the lullaby over. Jade spun around, the alarmed look on her face making it clear he had scared her, despite his efforts not to.

Shit. Mark stepped forward. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘I should have called up from the hall, but I thought the kids might be asleep. Are you okay?’

‘Yes, sorry. My fault. I should have been paying attention.’

‘You were.’ Mark smiled. ‘To Evie.’ He nodded towards his baby girl, who was awake but sleepy, and perfectly content on Jade’s shoulder. ‘I’ll make sure to announce myself in future.’

Jade smiled back, though she still looked rather flustered at him looming in the doorway. With good reason. Averting his gaze, Mark stopped short of moving further into the room to say hello to Evie. That possibly wouldn’t be a prudent move, what with Jade wearing a strappy top and pyjama shorts under her dressing gown. Obviously she was staying with them, which given her circumstances was fine, but… Christ, this was awkward. Mark really wished he’d remembered to plug his phone in earlier.

‘She’s been as good as gold,’ Jade said, stepping towards him. ‘Haven’t you, angel?’

Pressing a kiss to Evie’s soft downy head, she looked back to Mark. ‘I was just about to pop her down for a nap before Melissa gets back, but I’m assuming you want to have a quick cuddle? Sorry about being in my PJs, by the way,’ she said, handing Evie gently to him. ‘I needed to wash the smoke out of my hair, so I grabbed a quick shower before I fed her.’

And Mark felt like a bit of an idiot. Clearly, he was the only one feeling uncomfortable. And clearly it showed. ‘Thank you, I would very much like a quick cuddle,’ he said softly, marvelling afresh at the perfect wonder of his tiny child as he gathered her close.