I’m trembling, blood rushing to my head, legs weakening. This is him, it’s Thomas Collins. The man whose wife lost her life while looking for me is standing right in front of me. The man who can tell me why Katie Collins was looking for me is within my reach. Don’t give up, Becca.

‘What did you say your name was?’

‘Becca. Rebecca Wall.’

Thomas Collins stares for what feels like a day before speaking again.

‘I’ll take this,’ he says to the woman, who walks away towards a room at the back of the house.

‘Rebecca Wall,’ he says.

‘That’s right.’

‘Why are you here?’

‘I… I…’ I don’t know what to say, I never prepared a pitch. What do I say? Jeff notices me buckling.

‘Rebecca came here to find out why Katie was looking for her,’ he says, loud and clear, like he is reciting from the bible. No nerves Jeff. I nod in agreement.

‘You don’t know then,’ Thomas says. ‘I guess you better come in.’

The house is small but quaint and well maintained. He leads us down the hallway to the room where the woman went. There is a kitchen at one end a couch and TV with computer games stacked beneath it at the other end.

My eyes are drawn to the baby crib in the corner. I want to go over and have a peek at the child who is motherless because of me. But I don’t, I can barely move. Jeff’s shadow is my map, I’m taking every step he takes as we walk to the center of the room. I don’t think I’d have got this far without him.

Thomas nods at the woman and then to the baby, giving some sort of telepathic order. She lifts the baby from the crib. The little girl’s head sticks out of the top of the blanket. She has pale pink skin with a dusting of fair hair at the sides. I think of Liam, his tiny head. What would happen to Liam if Joanna was killed? I don’t want to think about it.

‘What’s her name?’ I say.

The woman looks at Thomas, like I’ve asked an off-limits question. She doesn’t answer and continues to walk out of the room with her head nestled into the baby’s bundle, leaving me feeling like I’ve just been punished.

‘Louise,’ Thomas says. ‘Her name is Louise.’

‘That’s a nice name.’

‘After Katie’s sister, Louise Johnson,’ he adds. ‘The sister who was abducted when Katie was three years old.’

My body shuts down. I can’t feel myself; where have I gone? I hear my mother’s words loud and clear crashing against the wall of my soul.

‘I took you, Becca.’