The Prince's Cinderella Doc. Louisa Heaton

help. Someone will go and visit him and make sure he enrols into a programme that will get him the help he needs. Before he kills someone next time.’

      ‘Maybe I could go and see him myself?’

      ‘Is that wise? You’re emotionally involved.’

      ‘Which is why he might listen to me. Meeting the actual victim of his crime might make more of an impact.’

      ‘Was hitting your wall not enough?’ He cocked his head to one side. ‘How do you know so much about crime and victimology?’

      She looked down and away from him then, and he realised there was a story there. Something she wasn’t willing to share.

      ‘I’m sorry—you don’t have to answer that.’

      She laughed. ‘Don’t therapists suggest that talking is good for the soul?’

      He nodded. ‘They do. But only when you’re ready. Are you ready?’

      ‘I don’t know.’

      He sipped his drink. ‘You’ll know when it’s the right time. And, more importantly, if it’s the right person to talk to. You don’t really know me, so I quite understand.’

      She stared back at him. Consideringly. Her eyes were cool. ‘I think you’d understand more than most.’

      He considered this. Intrigued. ‘Oh?’

      She paused. Looked uncertain. And then he saw it in her face. The determination to push forward and just say it.

      ‘I was six years old. And I was taken.’

      ‘Taken?’ His blood almost froze, despite the warmth of the sun.

      ‘My father buried me in a hole in the ground.’