San Quirico D'Orcia, Tuscany Nancy ran to the edge of the terrace where Zack's trike lay abandoned and the garden fell away by more than twelve feet.
She could see nothing.
Panic set in.
Without even thinking about her own safety, she scrambled down the loose soil and into the deep crater. Surely to God he hadn't come down here on his own? And then she remembered how she'd once found him dancing on top of her dressing table after she'd left him in the bedroom for just a moment while she went to the toilet in the en-suite bathroom.
With three-year-olds, anything was possible.
'Zack! Zack, are you down here, honey?' she shouted.
Nancy peered into the darkness of the old workings that they'd discovered beneath the garden, the narrow opening to the cave-like area that she had hoped might contain an underground well or spa, the area she now hoped was shallow and bereft of anything that might endanger her son.
'Zack!' she shouted again.
Nancy squeezed her way into the narrow opening. She squinted and stared as hard as she could.
Finally, in the fetid darkness, she could see him. She could just distinguish the outline of her child's face.
He looked terrified.
She moved slowly towards him. 'It's all right, darling, Mommy's here,' she said. But, as she inched forward, the blood froze in her veins.
Zack's hands were bound in front of him. Around his neck was a noose.