Susanna paused. ‘She said that?’
‘Yes. A million quid. Why would you bother leaving someone a million quid if you didn’t at least like them?’
Susanna was silent for a moment. ‘I don’t know, Ellie. Now, listen to me. You have to do whatever it takes.’
‘Mum, I’m not going todoanything.’
‘Don’t ignore me. It’s too important. You have to stop her.’
Ellie exhaled loudly. ‘What on earth are you talking about?’
‘Do I need to spell it out? You have to get to her before she gets to you.’
Shocked, Ellie was silenced for a moment. ‘What are you suggesting...?’
‘You know. Deep down, you understand.’
Ellie hung up and backed away from the phone in case her mother tried to call back. She wrapped her arms around herself, dumbfounded at her mother’s strength of belief. Then she looked up at Abby, a small dot near the field. Her sister turned and waved. Ellie raised her own hand, then watched as Abby walked back down the track.
EIGHTY-TWO
Susanna swore under her breath. She knew it was pointless to call back; Ellie wouldn’t answer.
She sat down in the living room chair and tried to think what to do. She was so worried. The message just didn’t seem to be getting through. Her favourite daughter was out there somewhere in the Spanish countryside, completely under Abby’s spell.
A thin line of perspiration broke out on Susanna’s forehead. Somehow she had to get to Ellie, convince her she was telling the truth.
But how?
Susanna opened up her phone again, googled the number Ellie had called from. It was located somewhere in north-western Spain. Susanna couldn’t tell exactly where, so she zoomed out and it was then her heart stopped. She remembered a child’s atlas from decades ago, a journey around Europe’s biggest, longest, highest. She looked again at the red pin in the map, marking the position of the payphone from which her daughter had just called her. It was instinctive, as true as a mother knowing her child she’d nursed from ill health.
Susanna knew where Ellie and Abby were heading.
EIGHTY-THREE
Matteo sat in a utilitarian plastic chair in the front office of the police station. Waiting. He’d stay there the entire day and night if that’s what it took. An hour ago, Baroni and Santini had stormed through the doors, with that Scandi guy, Fredrik Andersen, in tow. Matteo had been on Baroni in seconds but she’d refused to acknowledge his presence, much less answer his questions. Matteo knew that right now Fredrik was being debriefed – or having his head ripped off, if the Carabinieri’s mood was anything to go by.
Matteo glanced up at the clock, watched the hands tick on. He’d managed to glean from some of the more friendly local staff that Fredrik had been a honey trap but he’d switched allegiance halfway through the operation. He also knew that sooner or later, Baroni would have to let Fredrik go and Matteo was not going to leave his post until he saw that man walk past.
The door that led to the offices and interview rooms opened. Out stepped a tall blond man. Matteo leaped to his feet.
‘Fredrik?’
He stalled, then recognized Matteo. ‘Oh, hey. Look, I’m done with answering all the questions. Like I told the lady back there, I don’t know where they’ve gone.’
Matteo nodded. ‘But you saw them?’
‘Sure...’
‘And how were they?’
‘Doing OK, considering.’ He frowned. ‘Hey, should I even be talking to you?’
Matteo flashed his ID. ‘Captain Morelli, Italian Carabinieri. You said, “considering”. Considering what?’
Fredrik appraised Matteo. ‘You know, you cops should maybe cut them a bit of slack. They’ve been through a lot.’
‘How was Abby?’
