Holly took the phone back from Maggie. ‘She OK?’

‘Sascha’s just trying to settle her but Penny knows she’s not at home.’

‘She’s missing you but she’s safe.’ But Holly didn’t know if she could believe her own reassurance. She could see from the satnav that the industrial park was the next left. ‘I’ll get out here.’

Maggie slowed the car. ‘Let’s check it out first.’

‘No time. Park up way down the road and I’ll find you.’

‘You can’t even call me.’

Holly again regretted stamping on Maggie’s cell. ‘Anybody stops for you just get the hell out of here. Hiding is the best way you can protect me and Abigail.’

Maggie nodded once. ‘Keep your gun at hand.’

‘If I’m longer than half an hour take off.’

‘Half an hour?’

‘Looking at the map it’s going to take me a while to cross the park to Lot 4.’

‘OK.’ Maggie fixed Holly. ‘Make it back.’

Holly knew there was nothing more to say. Maggie understood she was her insurance.

Maggie halted the Scion, Holly got out and put her boot into the freezing snow up to her calf. She closed the door behind her and watched Maggie glide by.

---

Holly jammed one hand in her pocket and pulled down her hood with the other. The wind surged against her, and her coat crackled as she traced the curve of the roadside to the tall sign listing the various businesses that operated out of the park.

Her breathing sounded loud and laboured inside the hood. She passed the expansive Lot 1, which was deserted except for a handful of snowbound cars, and trudged on until she’d cleared the first hexagonal, two-storey warehouse. All the windows were in darkness. The next similar structure was revealed hunkered down in the snow, glowing orange from the streetlights.

Holly momentarily lost the road and waded back out of a drift before turning right and finding a sign for Lots 3 and 4. She trotted down an incline and almost stumbled at the bottom as she hit the lower level. How many minutes had she taken to get here? She hoped it had felt longer than it actually was.

She followed the sign for Lot 4 and found the parking bays all empty. But there was a single light on in one of the upper windows. Holly cut across the snow in the lot until she reached a large doorway covered by strips of yellowing transparent plastic.

Was he waiting for her the other side? She was sure his message was a ploy to hide his true intentions. Or had he really left something for her here? She wouldn’t allow herself to speculate what she could discover.

Holly slipped through the curtain. Warm, metallic-smelling air draped over her. She was standing in a dark loading bay. There was another aroma though. Food cooking? Fans pulsed low in the ceiling above. She could make out several forklifts parked up and beyond them were tall rows of packing crates. There was nobody around but there was a steel flight of steps to her left that led to the gantry of the upper floor. Muted light crept halfway down the stairs.

There was a directory sign at the foot of them, and Holly tapped on the flashlight of her phone. As she scanned the words she immediately recognised one of the occupants:

Holly paused there and looked about her. Was somebody observing her from the shadows? To the right of the sign she spotted a rusty green box suspended from a wire. She stretched up to grab it and pushed in one of the oily buttons.

The fan hum got louder so she tried another one. That activated the strip lights, and they flickered on, revealing the enormity of the loading bay and a row of six forklifts parked up to her right. No sign of anybody on the grey concrete floor unless they were skulking in the cubicle office on the far side…

Holly put her foot on the bottom step and paused to listen. There was another noise under the others, which seemed to come from above. A higher pitched whine under the fans and a low occasional thud. Holly slowly climbed, her feet clunking and her heart pumping two beats in between.

When she hit the top she was looking down a gantry with tall shuttered doors leading off it. Only one of them was partially rolled up, and a slice of light from within drew Holly towards it.

It was impossible to approach stealthily as her boots made the whole frame shudder but she reminded herself that she would be foolish to believe she could surprise Babysitter. He’d lured them here, so, if he was waiting, she may as well let him know she’d arrived. As she advanced, the aroma of cooking became stronger. Looked like the smoking was underway. Despite the extractors, the smell of mesquite chips was potent.

She came in line with the open doorway and took in the illuminated interior, which was about forty feet square. A row of eight large stainless steel smoker lockers covered the back wall. Next to them was a walk-in cold storage room. In front of it was a row of wooden prep tables and stacked plastic tubs that looked like they contained large pieces of meat in bright orange marinade. Holly ducked under the door and hastily glanced left and right. Nobody was waiting to pounce on her. She paced slowly towards the prep tables. Large, labelled plastic drums of dry rub were stored under the first, and the thick wooden boards on the second had been wiped down and looked spotless. Nothing had been left for her here.

Something thumped inside one of the smoking lockers, and she swivelled back to the doorway, half expecting to find someone standing there. But she knew she should be able to hear anyone moving along the gantry. Returning her attention to the lockers Holly quickly walked to the middle of the row and tugged the handle of the one immediately in front of her. A blast of heat and smoke escaped, and she squinted against it at what was inside. There were three slowly rotating shelves, and on the first was what looked like a hefty shoulder of pork. She kept the door half closed and watched as another replaced it, then another before the slow revolution brought the original shelf back into view. The thump came again, and she guessed it was coming from the locker next to it. She closed the door and shifted to her left, seizing the handle but not pulling it. The aroma in the room was suddenly overpowering, and her throat tightened. What was making the noise? Something that had been placed inside that shouldn’t be? Something that was too big for the shelf? Holly gripped the metal hard. Was she about to be punished for disobeying Babysitter? She felt dizzy and tensed her stomach as she yanked the door open a crack. Heat escaped with more sickly sweet smoke. Holly let it drop and, as the fumes cleared, saw the side of crusted meat on the shelf immediately in front of her. It rose and dropped out of sight as the next unsteadily ascended. It was heavy, and the bulk of the object slowed the shelf and caught on the lip of the housing as it appeared. It was something wrapped in a pink blanket, and Holly immediately recognised it as Abigail’s.