James came to himself with a start. He must have dozed off, on the sofa in the Police House. It was just becoming light. He glanced muzzily at the clock on the mantelpiece. Seven am.

He suddenly became aware the house felt rather empty. He stumbled to his feet."Nick!" he called.

Going through to the kitchen he swore to himself as he saw the door was open. He moved quickly to the doorway and then took a deep breath of relief. Nick was standing in the yard talking to Phil Bellamy.

"Just on my way back to Whitby Nick," Phil was saying. "We're widening the search so-" He stopped. "Nick, me, t'other lads, Sarge, we're not going to stop until we find Kate. Whatever we can do, we'll do it."

"I know Phil." Nick gave a weak smile. "Thanks." He swallowed hard. "I just need to know. That's all." He took a deep breath. "I love her so much Phil."

Phil put a hand on Nick's arm as James appearing at Nick's side said, "And Kate loves you too Nick. Never doubt it."

They watched Phil drive off then James turned to Nick. "You gave me a bit of a fright," he admitted, "I thought you'd bolted. I'm sorry about that I can't think how I managed to doze off." He paused. "Bit of sleep wouldn't do you any harm Nick."

"There'll be time for that when I get Kate back, James," Nick replied. "Not until then."


Over in Whitby Terry Carswell was making some early morning calls. Terry operated very loosely within the law and the only reason he had a clean record was because the local constabulary had not managed to pin anything on him. Terry had a formidable reputation and no one was brave or stupid enough to give evidence against him.

He ran protection rackets and owned some fairly squalid flats and bedsits in Scarborough, Whitby and beyond. He did not get involved in collecting rents himself but instructed one of his henchmen, Pete, to do so. But on this occasion the unfortunate Pete had failed miserably in rent collection from one tenant and Terry had had enough. He was going to throw out the little rat himself and take his rent money either in cash or in kind. He took Pete with him to give him an example of just how it had to be done.

This tenant had the top floor bedsit in a run down block near the harbour. There were about five bedsits in total. Terry ran up the communal stairs and banged on the door.

"He won't answer," Pete said. "He never does – he's hardly there I reckon."

"Well that's easy dealt with Pete." Terry gave him a withering glance as he produced the spare key. "If he's there we get what I'm owed, boot him down the stairs and change the locks and if he ain't there we take his worldly goods if he's got owt worth having, change the locks any road and we're well rid."

He opened the door as he spoke and both of them reeled back at the smell in the squalid bedsit.

"Jesus Christ," Pete said, very nearly throwing up.

Terry needless to say was made of sterner stuff. He strode over to the window ignoring the huddled form on the bed. He yanked apart the tatty curtains and raised the sash window. "Right," he turned back into the room, "wakey wakey –" he stopped and glanced back at Pete.

"Boss." Pete sidled into the room reluctantly. "Hell Boss he - he's dead!"

"Oh well done Pete," Terry said scathingly. He groaned as he saw the ampoules and syringes lying on the bed. On the small bedside cabinet were bottles of pills. "Well," he said, "I suppose we can't say he died of natural causes can we?"

He spied the lad's coat hanging on the back of the door and expertly ran his hands through the pockets. He took out a small roll of notes.

"You're going to take that boss?" Pete should not have been shocked really by his boss' callousness but still –

"Yeah. It doesn't quite cover the bill but it'll do. I'm off now Pete, you get this sorted yeah?"

"What – me?"

"You're going to have to get the plods involved and I'm not being seen anywhere near this. You sort it and get the mess cleaned up. I want someone else in here sharpish, rent paid on time every week mind!. And don't have me doing your job for you next time either!"


In her prison, Kate tried forcing the door open again but it wouldn't budge. This was ridiculous. Surely someone would find her soon!

She desperately wanted to get free, to let Nick, who must be going through hell, know she and the baby were fine. Or at least she thought the baby was fine. She prayed that was the case.

There was also the fear her attacker might come back for her. She could not see why he would do that (he had what he wanted after all) but still. You never knew.

Wearily she rested her head against the wall wondering if help was anywhere near.


Inspector Carberry and Sergeant Blaketon arrived at the Police House at 1.30 that afternoon. James let them in and when Nick saw who the visitors were and saw the look on their faces he assumed immediately the very worst.

"God – no!"

James put a supporting hand on Nick's arm at the same time fighting back his own fear. "All right Nick, sit down here, that's it." He guided Nick down onto one of the dining table chairs and turned back to face the two police officers.

"I'm sorry for causing you more distress Nick,"Carberry said gently. "We've had a development – a significant development – but we haven't found Kate and we've found no evidence of her having come to harm."

"What do you mean?" Nick asked in low tones.

"We were called to some bedsits in Whitby this morning. Found the body of a male who fits the description of the caller at Lower Hill Farm. He'd died from a massive overdose – we found needles lying next to him and prescription medicines in the bedsit. All the drugs found match the batches that were in Kate's bag."

James himself sat down at this point. "But if he's dead – he cant tell us what happened to Kate," he said more to himself than anyone else.

Nick, as a police officer, was on to something else. "The clothes he was wearing – were they the ones he had on yesterday?"

"They fitted the description yes," Blaketon said. He knew what Nick's train of thought was. "There was no blood on his clothes lad."

Nick looked up suddenly hopeful. "So its possible he might not have hurt her?"

"It's reassuring," Carberry said. "We've got to take it one step at a time though Nick."

"If he's not hurt Kate," Nick was trying to reason it out, "why have we not found her? Has he hidden her somewhere, locked her in or something?"

"He had a van in a garage behind the bedsits," Blaketon replied, "but there's no sign of Kate there."

James leaned forward. "What happens now?" he asked urgently

"We can only keep searching," Carberry said, "but one of the things we have to consider is –"

"If he had a van, he could have got Kate into that and kidnapped her. She could be anywhere." Nick's voice was bleak. "She could be hurt, anything, and we've no idea where to find her."