Bex rolled over and looked at her clock. Half seven – that was a nice lie-in. Alfie must have been tired because generally he’d have woken her up ages before this. She could hear the TV downstairs; presumably the boys were watching cartoons. She stretched luxuriously and then swung her feet out of bed. She padded downstairs and into the sitting room.

‘Morning, Lewis. Sleep well?’ She looked around the room and saw that Lewis was on his own. ‘Alfie not awake yet?’

Lewis shook his head, his eyes glued to the shenanigans on the screen.

‘I’m going to make myself a cup of tea. Do you want anything?’

Lewis shook his head again.

Bex pottered into the kitchen and saw the back door was wide open. She froze. Burglars? Then she saw Dougie sitting by the Aga. It definitely hadn’t been there last night when she’d gone to bed. She went into the garden and called her son’s name. Silence.

Maybe it had been Lewis who had opened the door. She dashed back into the sitting room.

‘Lewis, have you been outside this morning?’

Lewis sighed heavily and turned around. ‘No.’

‘What about Alfie?’

‘I’ve not seen him.’

Bex took the stairs two at a time and charged into her youngest son’s room. His bed was empty. Her heart began to hammer wildly and it wasn’t from the exertion of racing upstairs. She went onto the landing.

‘Alfie? Alfie? ALFIE?’

Megan came down the attic stairs, yawning. ‘Bex?’

‘The back door’s open and I can’t find Alfie.’ Bex turned and raced back downstairs and called for her son in the garden again. Megan followed her. ‘Not again,’ she said.

Bex couldn’t trust herself to answer. Her anxiety was making her very close to tears.

Megan raced to the front and checked the gate. ‘The gate’s still bolted,’ she reported to her mum. ‘He’s got to be here, somewhere.’

Megan returned to the house and went through every room while Bex searched the garden, looking behind all the shrubs in the herbaceous border.

After ten minutes of scouring the whole place they met in the kitchen. ‘I’m going to ring the police,’ said Bex.

*

‘And have you got a recent photo?’ said Leanne Knowles.

Olivia stood up and walked across to a side table under the big window where she picked up a photo frame, took the back off and extracted the picture. She passed it to Leanne. ‘There. It was taken at Christmas this year.’

‘Any reason why he might have left?’

Olivia picked up the rather creased note and handed it to Leanne. She read it in silence then said, ‘That pretty much explains it. Get out before he’s found out.’

Olivia nodded.

‘OK. So, what do you think he might have been wearing?’

‘Hard to say. I’ve gone through his wardrobe and there’s a grey hoodie missing and some jeans – black ones. And his trainers. And he’s taken some food – a few tins, some fruit, a couple of pies. Not much.’

‘OK, I’ll start by circulating this to all our units in the area. We’ll contact the Missing Persons’ Bureau and I’d suggest you’d get hold of all his mates and see what they can do with social media.’ Leanne’s radio crackled into life. ‘Excuse me,’ she said to Olivia.

She walked outside to take the message.

‘A missing person had been reported,’ she was told.

‘Yes, I’m on it. I’m with the family now.’

‘Another one.’

‘What?’

‘A five-year-old. Reported by his mother, Mrs Bex Millar of The Beeches. Two kids from the same town. As far as we know there isn’t a connection, although Mrs Millar’s oldest child does know Zac Laithwaite but the missing boy, Alfie Millar, has gone wandering through the town before on his own.’

‘OK, I’ll go there straight from here. Can you get another officer here to stay with the Laithwaites? Oh, and I want any CCTV camera footage from last night reviewed.’

Leanne returned to the house. ‘We’re on the case and we’re going to look at the CCTV footage. I’m sure we’ll have Zac back in no time. I’ve got to go to another incident but a case officer is being assigned to you and will be here shortly. Try not to worry – I know it’s easy for me to say but in the vast majority of cases we find the kids very quickly.’

Olivia, white with anxiety, nodded.

*

Zac woke up from a short and uncomfortable doze and was, for a second, disorientated. He was cold and stiff and his shoulder ached from sleeping awkwardly. He took in his surroundings: the rough concrete he was lying on and the unplastered brick wall a few feet away – ah yes, a half-built house. Slowly, easing his aching joints as he moved, he sat up and yawned.

Running away, he decided, sucked; so did being homeless, but at least he’d found shelter and had been kept dry when that storm had finally struck. And now he was hungry, he was bursting for a pee and he needed to get to the station to find a train. He stumbled to his feet and brushed cement dust off his jeans. He already looked a mess and he’d only been gone one night. He ran his tongue over his teeth and wondered if his breath smelt. He tugged on the zip of his rucksack and picked out a pork mini pie which he ate in a couple of bites. He washed it down with a swig from his water bottle, almost choking as the bubbles went up his nose, then he put the bottle back in his bag and zipped it up.

‘Time to go,’ he said to himself. He wondered when the next train was as he went through the gap in the wall that one day would be the front door. He then picked his way across the detritus of the building site, the broken bricks, the empty cement sacks, the puddles in the uneven ground, to the newly built road that snaked past the houses. He found a thicket of undergrowth that had yet to be bulldozed or landscaped and had a swift pee into the bushes. He was glad he only needed a pee – he didn’t fancy doing the other out in the open, although he’d better get used to living rough, he told himself as he did up his flies and set off again. He ducked behind some garages as he neared the show home and then raced along behind a row of terraced houses, worried that someone from the developers might be around to see him even though he knew it was unlikely, this early on a Sunday morning. He got to the gap in the fence and glanced around to make sure that he wasn’t being observed. Quickly he slipped his bag off his shoulder, shoved it through and then crawled after it. He breathed a sigh of relief that he was back on the public highway and couldn’t be done for trespass. He picked up his kit and began to walk towards the station. Further along the pavement he could see what looked like a bundle of clothes and contemplated his mother’s likely reaction if she knew someone was fly-tipping. He then wondered if his mother had found his note yet and felt a pang of guilt because he knew what angst it was going to cause.

Zac approached the bundle and he could now see it was no such thing, but a small child dressed in pyjamas and a pair of wellingtons. He ran the last few steps, hunkered down and tentatively put his hand on the boy’s face. It was warm. He was asleep not... Zac felt relief wash through him.

The kid opened his eyes and looked up at him. Zac thought he looked vaguely familiar. Maybe he’d seen him around the town – after all, Little Woodford wasn’t a big place.

‘Hey, buddy,’ said Zac, gently. ‘What are you doing out here?’

The kid’s lip trembled and tears welled up in his eyes. ‘I’m cold and I’m hungry and I want to go home,’ he wept.

‘Sure you do.’ Zac could sympathise with all of that. ‘You’re a bit young to be out here on your own, aren’t you?’

‘I came to see the diggers.’

‘Does your mum know you’re here?’ The boy shook his head and the tears flowed faster.

Zac stood up and then picked up the lad to set him on his feet.

The child howled. ‘Owwww. My feet hurt,’ he sobbed.

Zac knelt on one knee and sat the child on his other one. ‘What’s your name?’

‘Alfie.’

‘Then, Alfie, is it OK if I take your wellies off?’

Alfie nodded.

Zac tugged the boots off causing Alfie to squeal again. He had a look at the kid’s feet. The back of one of his heels was rubbed raw and the other had a fat, puffy blister. He looked at the station and considered his options. He could abandon the lad here and catch his train as planned. Or – and he knew this was the only real choice he had – he could take the kid back to his home and dump him on the doorstep. Zac sighed. His escape to the city would have to wait a few minutes. He had to hope that he wasn’t going to get spotted by anyone who might recognise him, and that his parents hadn’t yet found his note and come out looking for him. He made the only decision he could; there was no way he could leave the kid here, alone on the street. He’d take the boy home, ring the doorbell and run away. Job done.

‘OK. How about a piggyback?’

Alfie, his face wet with tears and sobbing quietly, nodded.

Zac stood Alfie on his bare feet while he slipped off his rucksack, stuffed the boots in it and then swung the child up and onto his back. He grabbed his bag and set off towards the town. ‘Where do you live then?’

‘Past the play park.’

Like that narrowed it down. ‘OK,’ said Zac. ‘And I’m Zac, by the way.’

‘Thac,’ lisped Alfie.

He headed towards the park along a still quiet main road. A car swished past on the wet tarmac and Zac kept his head down, hoping his face wasn’t visible if anyone in the car bothered to look at him. He reached the park gates. ‘Now where?’

Alfie pointed dead ahead. Zac trudged on.

Ahead he could see the fluorescent yellow and blue of a police car driving towards him. He pulled his hood further forward. The car pulled up beside him. Fuck.

*

Zac pushed his hood back as Leanne rang the doorbell at The Grange.

‘You did the right thing,’ she said to him.

Zac shook his head as the door opened.

‘Zac!’ said his mother. ‘Thank God. Where was he?’ She threw the door wide and gazed at her son, swallowing down tears of relief as he crossed the threshold.

‘He was walking along the high street. He’d found Alfie Millar who had also gone walkabout and was taking him home.’

‘I’d have been on a train if it hadn’t been for that,’ said Zac.

‘Then, thank God for Alfie,’ said Olivia.

‘Welcome back, Zac,’ said Nigel. He came over to his son and sighed.

‘Don’t,’ said Olivia, shooting him a look.

‘You frightened the crap out of us,’ said Nigel. ‘I’m so relieved you’re back.’

‘I’m sorry,’ said Zac.

‘The main thing is you’re safe and well. That’s all that matters in the long run,’ said his father.

‘But the other stuff...’

‘It doesn’t matter,’ said Nigel.

Zac looked bemused. ‘But Mum’s ring...?’

‘That you sold to Dan,’ said Leanne. ‘Your dealer? Danny Nightingale?’

‘How did you...?’

‘I told you, Zac, I’m a copper. I know this stuff. I think he needs a visit.’

‘You won’t tell him I said anything?’ said Zac.

‘Said what?’ Leanne tugged at her stab vest, pulling it down and adjusting her belt. ‘I’m off then. And don’t run away again, Zac. It’s always better for everyone to face the music rather than run away from your problems. Truly.’

Zac nodded.