As soon as I am clear of the track to their home, I open a window to the cold air, hoping it will keep me awake. The drugs weren’t intended to make me fall asleep – that would have defeated the purpose. They were to make me compliant, and as I drive I begin to wonder whether I should believe anything Thea and Garrick have told me. I have thought about Hannah’s story over and over again, and I don’t remember any child abduction being reported on the news in the months leading up to Christmas. I would have reacted emotionally to such a tragic tale and read everything I could find, cursing any woman who would steal a baby. Is there any truth in what they’ve said?

Thoughts of domestic slavery spring to mind. What a way to capture people and make them do your bidding! Hannah would have felt, as I did, that having committed a terrible crime there was no other choice than to hide in Thea and Garrick’s cellar.

Finally I remember why the red light on the television had bothered me. Thea had told me they didn’t have a working TV. If that were the case, why would the standby light be on? They are a pair of liars, with motives I can’t even begin to guess at.

Perhaps the others had been taken in, but not me. Maybe the reason I can’t remember killing Ian is because I didn’t do it. Is that possible? Is he still alive, or did someone else kill him?

Thea!

No, surely not. I banish this ridiculous idea from my mind the instant it arrives.

Then I think of the claw hammer, and I know it was mine. I remember buying it and can picture where it sat on the shelf in the garage. How could it have got into Thea’s house unless I brought it?

I’m suddenly filled with desperate hope that Ian is alive. Much as I wanted to be rid of him, I would do anything now to walk through my front door and see him sitting in his favourite chair, surrounded by the detritus of the last few days. I still want him gone, but not like that.

As if on autopilot, I find myself turning into my street, praying that I will see the sitting-room lights on. I will know then that the past few days have been nothing more than a terrible nightmare. But as I approach, I see the house is in darkness. There isn’t a light showing. It’s not late, but if Ian is alive he is unlikely to have ventured out alone. He never does. He always has a pizza or a takeaway delivered – anything for an easy life. So what does it mean? Is he really dead?