Was Maggie still determined to kill her? The car was coming square at Holly, and it didn’t matter which way she threw herself. But the Scion swerved to her right and headed for the exit on the other side of the square, cutting the corner as it did so.

‘Wait!’ Its rear lights vanished into the snow. Maybe Maggie had used the phone to speak to Sascha or just decided she didn’t want to endanger Penny any longer. Blood pounded harder through the bruise on Holly’s scalp. What the hell would she do now?

But the noise of another engine returned her attention to where the Scion had been parked. A set of lights burnt through the thick flakes, and she scurried back to the square. She swiftly made her way to the statue and hid behind the three figures.

Holly blinked against the wind as she watched the other vehicle slow. Had Babysitter turned around and come into Hexham behind them?

The headlights halted.

A metal door slid back.

Holly ducked as a figure climbed down.

The sound of a shutter opening quickly followed.

Holly cautiously crossed the square but as she drew nearer to the vehicle was relieved to find it was only a small white delivery truck with ‘Gideon Fisheries’ emblazoned along the side. A guy in yellow rubber dungarees was unloading some orange crates.

A car honked behind her. Holly swivelled and saw another set of headlights flash at her from the direction the Scion had disappeared. She scrambled for them and found Maggie waiting for her on the opposite corner.

‘Sorry. I saw someone pull up behind me,’ Maggie said as Holly dropped back into the passenger seat.

She yanked the door shut. ‘It’s just a guy delivering to the fish restaurant.’

‘Did you find anything?’

‘There’s a statue to commemorate migrants who died on the marshes in the middle of the square.’

‘People still drown here. The tide out there can come in real fast.’ Maggie switched on the warm air.

Holly’s face was too numb to feel it. ‘I heard those stories. There was a bench with a name on it as well. Tom Fresnade.’

‘Tom Fresnade?’ Maggie frowned.

‘Heard of him?’

Maggie shook her head.

‘Looks like he might have lost his life on the marshes too. 1983 to 2012… 29 when he died.’

Maggie was already using the phone to Google him. ‘“Tom Fresnade. Hexham.”’ She enlarged the results with her fingers and read out what she’d found.

‘“On 26th April 2012, Rich Temple and his two daughters were trapped on the Hexham salt marshes by the incoming tide. Tragically, one of the daughters, Milly, drowned, but due to the heroic actions of local, Tom Fresnade, Mr Temple and his eldest, Colette, were saved. However, when Tom Fresnade returned for Milly he also lost his life.”’

‘Anything more?’ Holly leaned over to examine the phone.

Maggie scrolled. ‘The story’s on a few local sites. Here we are.’ She skim-read. ‘Tom Fresnade lived and worked in his family’s business in Brinkley.’

‘That’s right near here.’

Maggie glanced up from the screen. ‘Back the way we came.’

‘Back the way Babysitter went.’

Maggie nodded. ‘But let’s just take a breath. Are we sure he’d expect us to find this information?’

‘Here.’ Holly took the phone from Maggie and typed a message to Babysitter.

Is Abigail in Brinkley?

She showed it to Maggie and then sent it.

‘So what do we do while we wait?’

‘See if we can find anything else about Fresnade’s family. There can’t be many businesses with that name in Brinkley.’ Holly put the name and the town in a search and perused the info. ‘It’s a smokery. ‘Established 1968. ’ She found a photo of a fragile old man in white overalls and paper hat surrounded by three young men in similar attire.

Maggie cast a look back into the square as the shutter was rolled back down on the truck.

‘Maybe Babysitter has a connection to Tom Fresnade.’ Holly had started to thaw.

‘What about the father, Rich Temple?’

Holly put his name into a search but her phone rang.

Unknown caller.

She answered immediately. ‘Hello?’

‘It’s Sascha.’

‘Sascha, wait.’ Holly hit speaker and put it on the dash. She didn’t want this conversation to be private.

‘Sascha, are you OK?’ Maggie asked.

‘I’ll live. The police have just left, but I have to make a statement in the morning. What the fuck’s going on?’

Holly wondered where Maggie would even start.

‘It’s a very complicated situation but I promise you Penny and I are safe.’

‘I just spoke to the other woman, right?’

‘Yes, I’m here,’ Holly interjected. ‘I’m sorry for what I had to do, but you didn’t leave me any choice.’

‘Who is she, Maggie?’

Maggie chewed her lip. ‘Somebody who’s in an even more desperate situation than I am. Look, we can trust her but I need you to come get Penny while I help her.’

Holly felt a surge of relief. Only minutes ago she thought Maggie had deserted her.

‘Help her do what?’

‘The less you know the better. Will you come?’

‘I don’t like this but of course I will. Where are you?’

Maggie narrowed her eyes at the phone. ‘And you won’t involve the police?’

There was a pause. ‘If you say so.’

‘I do. You have no idea what’s at risk if you do. You’ve got to promise.’

‘OK.’

‘Promise, Sascha.’

Holly could almost feel the history between the two sisters as they spoke.

‘I promise.’

‘OK. We’re in Hexham.’

‘What the hell are you doing out there?’

‘Can you drive here as soon as you can?’

The phone buzzed as a message arrived.

‘Wait.’ Maggie took the phone from the dash, read it and held it out to Holly.

In Brinkley. But not for long.

Maggie spoke at the mouthpiece. ‘Scrap that. Meet us just outside Brinkley.’

‘Brinkley? What’s this about?’

‘Bring some blankets for Penny. We’re heading there now. What’s the name of that steak place you like in Ebden?’

‘The Grey Wolf.’

‘We’ll meet you in the lot. Careful on the roads, it’s treacherous. But get there as soon as you can.’

‘I’m leaving now.’

‘You’ve promised no police, Sascha.’

‘I know, I know. I’ll call you if I’m held up.’

Maggie ended the call, handed the phone to Holly and put the car in drive.

‘You don’t have to come with me to Brinkley.’ But Holly was sure she would, and the reassurance of that felt like the first positive element of her ordeal.

‘I do. He’s had time to arrange something while we’ve been here. .’

Maggie was right. He was still in control. Brinkley could be a trap, of course, but while there was still a dialogue with him and gas in the car she could maintain the hope they could negotiate Abigail back.

Less than four hours until sunrise.