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Glen Wright was surprised and alarmed to find both of Oakhurst’s patrol cars in the yard outside his house when he got home. He brought his Land Rover to a stop and threw open the door, almost falling out of the vehicle in his haste; once on his feet he ran across the yard and into the house – the front door was already open, so he didn’t have to waste time fumbling for his keys, but that only made him more concerned.
“Emily, Tara,” he called out as he started down the passage. He stopped almost immediately as he caught sight of his youngest daughter out the corner of his eye. “Tara, what’s going on?” he asked as he strode across the living room to the sofa, where the fourteen-year-old was sitting with Melissa.
“Where were you, daddy?” Tara asked in a desperate voice. She was torn be
