Cliona spoke. ‘I can go and chat to him on your behalf if you want?’ she said. ‘And if you’re too tired, it’s okay to ask him to come back another time.’

The nurse coughed. ‘Erm, he says it’s really quite urgent,’ he said, blushing.

Cliona looked at me for guidance.

‘He’s a good man. If he wants to talk it’ll be important,’ I said.

She nodded at the nurse and started to gather her things. I reached my good arm out to her.

‘Can you stay?’ I asked, desperately needing to have someone on my side with me.

She didn’t hesitate, not for a moment.

‘Of course I can,’ she said with a smile, patting my hand gently.

DI Bradley walked into the room looking as though he were carrying the weight of the world on his shoulders. As I saw him, fragments of memory started to come back to me. A photo. He’d shown me a photo. He’d been with me when I’d taken ill. And the photo … who had been in it, what it had said. What it had warned.

I felt my chest tighten.

‘Elizabeth, how are you?’ he asked.

‘Scared,’ I replied. ‘I think … you showed me a picture, didn’t you? Of Laura? That day at the farmhouse.’

He nodded. ‘I did, Elizabeth. Just before you took ill. But something else has happened since …’

I felt Cliona squeeze my hand reassuringly before she introduced herself to DI Bradley.

‘Elizabeth has asked that I stay with her,’ she said. ‘I hope that’s okay?’

He nodded. ‘Of course,’ he said before turning to me again. ‘Elizabeth, Rachel Walker’s gone missing. We suspect she’s been abducted. She failed to come home from a shopping trip and her car was found abandoned at a secluded spot at Ness Woods last night. There were signs of a struggle and I don’t think I need to tell you that we suspect the person who took her is the same individual who killed Clare Taylor.

‘Given how little time he spent with Clare before he left her for dead, we really are under pressure to find her as soon as possible.’

‘How can I help?’ I asked.

I tried to shift in my bed, felt my chest tightening further.

Cliona whispered: ‘Just breathe.’

I clung to her words.

DI Bradley spoke again.

‘Elizabeth, the photo I showed you …’

He reached into the envelope and took out a picture, wrapped in plastic. I only had to glance at it to recognise it again.

‘I had a feeling you were about to tell me something about it, just before you took ill.’

I couldn’t speak, just kept looking at it. Drawn to the image of Laura. Her dark shiny hair framing her face. So young. Such a life wasted.

‘That picture was taken from my house,’ I said. ‘From my album. It was one Laura herself took.’