"What the bloody hell is going on?" Fred Thursday yells, waking Win, and bringing Morse out of panic mode, and into detective mode. Only this time the stakes are too high.
"Look." Morse says, his mind in overdrive, searching in his pocket for the crossword.
"Look at what?" Fred says as Morse hands him the crossword from the crime scene.
"I don't understand, Morse. Where is Joan? God damn it, Morse, speak!"
"The clues. The answers. They refer to me. And those I… I have…" He bends his head, reaches both hands behind his head, weaving them into his hair, fingers intertwining.
Thursday looks at him, waiting for him to finish. Win, realizing that Joan is gone, begins frantically throwing the bedsheets back, looking under the bed and in the closet. "Where is she, Fred? Morse? Where is my Joan?"
Fred and Morse look at each other, silently acknowledging the situation. Win, with a sense of dread, sits on the edge of the bed, looks side to side, and with terror etched on her face, wonders where her beautiful daughter is now, and will she ever see her again. Not again. Tears spill from her eyes. She is numb with fear.
"Right." Thursday says, knowing they must work fast. "He has, let's see… Joan went to bed gone 11:00. It's now just past 1:00. Two hours. Let's get moving."
Morse is already at the phone, calling the station, D.S. Strange, Bright…
"D-Day."