‘When do we go public with a photograph of her?’ Rob asked. They were in a long queue and Kelly looked around at the clientele. It was depressing; people were usually in the café because they were visiting someone sick or were ill themselves. It was a desperate place to be and the memories of her mother and the nurse who showed such warmth towards her crowded her head. She almost expected Nikki to come prancing down the hall in heels, demanding something. To think she’d been so focused on being embarrassed by her sister’s behaviour that a killer carried on unnoticed under all their noses.

‘We don’t have to.’

‘Why?’

‘It’s at our discretion. If we think she’s in danger – and that hasn’t been determined yet – then it’s best not to.’

‘Isn’t that the only way to find out who she is?’

‘It might be the quickest way, but not the best. She might not want to be the person she was.’

They paid for their snacks and drinks and found a table. ‘The thing about amnesia is that it’s rarely medical in a healthy young woman; it’s more likely to be psychological, and I want to know why.’

‘But we could be finding her family…’

‘You saw her reaction to that, Rob. I’m not convinced she wants to see them.’

‘When does it stop being about what she wants and about doing the right thing?’

‘We don’t know what that is yet.’ They sat down. ‘How’s Mia?’ Kelly changed the subject. It caught Rob off guard, which was her intention, she was tired of explaining herself.

‘She’s found a new job and I think… erm… well…’

Kelly had never seen Rob flustered, but now he didn’t know what to say.

‘You broke up?’

‘No!’

‘She’s pregnant?’

‘How did you know?’

‘I didn’t, you just told me.’

‘But I’m not allowed!’

‘Don’t worry, I won’t tell. That’s amazing, you’ll be an incredible dad, Rob. Don’t expect any time off, though.’

‘Mia will understand.’

‘I was joking.’

Kelly’s mobile rang and it was Kate Umshaw.

‘I’m nosing around the Penrith and Lakes, my favourite place to be, what are you doing?’ Kelly asked.

Rob looked at her and she nodded to him that they had some new information. He bit into his croissant and waited until his boss hung up. After a sip of coffee, she raised her brow and told him.

‘They’ve found clothes in an adjacent field to Castlerigg. It appears that they have blood on them.’ She bit into a Danish pastry.

‘Women’s clothes?’

They both spoke in between bites of sugary succour and sips of eye-openingly strong coffee.

‘Yes. They’re been photographed and bagged. Kate’s emailing the photos to me, let’s see if the hospital psychologist can get anything out of Carla Rigg.’