CHAPTER NINE
A clock chimed twelve slow dongs for midnight from the corner of the room, a reminder that time was moving forward and there was still no sign of the missing kids. Sam’s heart grew heavier with each toll.
One of the four phones on the coffee table exploded into the bluesy-soul of Adele’s Rolling in the Deep. Hers. She pounced on it.
‘Sam?’
Her stress levels ratcheted. ‘Boss!’
‘That’d be me.’
Strangely, a security blanket floated over her and she flashed back to first meeting John Franklin in the Daylesford police station last December. In her shiny new uniform and on her first day as a probationary constable, she’d been nervous and jumpy, and he’d spoken in the same laidback manner, quickly relaxing her.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Kat pick up her phone, obvious
