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forties, with dark brown hair flecked grey around his temples. His black suit is rumpled. The other one is shorter with the build of a boxer and a nose that looks like it’s been broken a few times.
    I swallow, my throat dry and scratchy. ‘Yes,’ I say warily, ready to reach for the alarm button beside my bed.
    He takes a step forward and holds out a card with a photo and some writing on it. ‘I’m Detective Inspector Summers. This is Detective Sergeant Flynn.’ He gestures to his colleague with an upturned palm.
    I squint at his police ID. The photo is of a younger Summers, who looks more like a criminal than a police officer. I nod, not sure what to say in these kinds of circumstances. I’ve never had cause to speak to the police for even a speeding fine. Somehow I feel guilty just being in their presence, as if I’ve done something wrong and I’m trying to hide it. I always get the same kind of feeling going through customs at the airport. Even though I’m a perfectly innocent traveller without so much as a duty free packet of cigarettes, I still feel guilty going through the Nothing to Declare section with all eyes on me, wondering if I really am a drug smuggling mule in disguise as a casually dressed English teacher.
    ‘It sounds like you’ve had quite an ordeal.’ Summers sits on the only plastic chair in the room next to my bed.
    Flynn leans against the doorframe and pulls out a biro from his top pocket. He’s already holding a small notebook in his hand. He flips over a few pages before hovering his pen over the notebook.
    ‘Can you tell us what happened?’ Summers asks.
    I tell them everything I can remember, from the time I woke up underground until the time I escaped and ran out into the road. I try to stay calm, but my heart palpitates and beads of sweat break out on my forehead and upper lip. When I finish, Summers looks at me with an expression of impassivity.
    ‘Can you think of any reason why someone would want to abduct you?’
    ‘No! I…I’m just a normal, average person. I’m not wealthy. I don’t associate with criminals. I’ve never even had so much as a parking ticket.’
    ‘What do you do for a living?’ Flynn stops scribbling and looks up at me.
    ‘I teach A Level English Language at Downham Sixth Form College.’
    ‘Are you married?’ Summers asks.
    ‘Yes. I’ve been married for two years to Liam Benson.’
    ‘What does your husband do?’
    ‘He’s a Pharmaceutical Manufacture Product Manager for Devon Pharmaceutical.’
    ‘Does he deal with anything sensitive?’ Summers frowns. ‘Animal testing, perhaps?’
    ‘No, he’s responsible for the manufacture of all the drugs they produce. He has nothing to do with the animal testing side of things as far as I know. Why?’
    ‘Some animal rights groups can be, let’s say, overzealous when it comes to animal testing. It’s not unheard of for pharmaceutical employees or their families to be targeted, which is something to consider. Where is your husband?’
    ‘The nurse spoke to him and he said he was in Scotland, working. Their plant that makes the drugs is in Aberdeen. He’s on his way back now.’
    ‘We’ll need to speak with him, too.’
    ‘Yes, of course.’
    ‘So you don’t remember anything leading up to when you were taken? Anything strange happening?’ Summers asks.
    I glance down at my hands, my fingers throbbing. ‘No. The last thing I can remember is my husband’s birthday party, which was March the twenty-third. I can’t seem to remember the last seven weeks at all.’ I think about what Dr Traynor told me and place a hand on my stomach, as if the act will somehow bring my baby back to life.
    Summers leans forward slightly. ‘Do you have any financial problems or owe money to anyone?’
    ‘No. I mean, our house is mortgaged, but we don’t have any other loans or anything. We’re financially secure.’
    ‘Have you received any kind of threats from anyone?’
    ‘No.’
    ‘You haven’t been