Thirty-threeIt was early evening before Marilyn took the first bite of the sandwich a uniformed constable handed over to her. She realised she hadn't eaten all day, and as the hunger overpowered her, she quickly demolished the cheese and wholemeal bread in a few bites. The constable gave a laugh.
“Would you like another, ma'am?”
Before she responded with a suitably cutting remark, Sergeant Naylor scurried up to her, keeping low. The pathway, which wound its way through the ornamental gardens, had been blocked off by two patrol cars parked at an angle across the asphalt. It was behind one of these vehicles that Marilyn crouched. Naylor dismissed the constable with a nod and turned to his superior. “The parents of the girl are here.”
Marilyn groaned. “Try and keep them away, would you. Ho
