They finished their refreshments and piled their rubbish onto a tray, dropping it into the waste bin as they left.

‘I never know which one to put the bloody things into,’ Kelly said, confused by the recycling instructions on four waste bins.

They made their way back to the ward and were welcomed by the staff without question this time, though the two female nurses still stared at Rob. An official looking man in his late thirties, small in build, with a clip board and pen, and studiously revising notes, approached the desk. He had a name badge and Kelly quickly surmised that this was the psychologist. Kelly glanced at his badge and saw the acronym NLMH (North Lakes Mental Health). Carla Rigg would also be assessed by a psychiatrist, but Kelly was convinced that they weren’t looking at a mental illness as such, possibly a trauma or personality disorder. The young woman was withdrawn and childlike. Maybe she’d be proven wrong.

She interrupted him and introduced herself. The small man looked baffled and so Kelly showed him her badge.

‘It’s a police matter?’ he asked.

‘Until we know who she is and we’ve ruled out a crime,’ Kelly said.

‘Ah, right. I never know the rules, I’m just here to evaluate a young woman with potential amnesia.’

‘We’ll accompany you.’

He remained uncertain as he walked towards room eighteen. They bumped into Sister Cane, who informed them that Carla Rigg was comfortably sat up in bed and ready for them.

When they knocked and went in, the blinds had been pulled down and flapped in the wind. The windows were large and Kelly thought it odd that one was left open. A sinking feeling hit her gut and she pulled back the bed sheets. There was no one under them. She checked the bathroom and the door was unlocked, but when she went inside, Carla wasn’t there. She rushed to the window and looked out: they were only on the first floor and an outbuilding was positioned a few feet away from the window; it would be easy to jump on to it and then to the ground.

‘She’s gone.’

‘I beg your pardon?’ the psychologist asked.

‘She’s gone. Whoever she is, she has no desire to be identified or evaluated. She’s sick of being examined.’

Sister Cane entered the room. ‘It’s freezing in here!’ She stopped and looked at the bed, then to Kelly, who looked at Rob.

‘Maybe it’s time to go public now.’

Chapter 7