I shuddered at the mention of his name. I’d not allowed myself to say it, or even think it, since the day and hour he’d left. But no, surely it couldn’t be Aaron? He was long gone. He’d left over a year and a half before. He wouldn’t dare risk coming back.

I had no idea where he was and I didn’t care to know. I never wanted to see his face again. My arm ached, as if the muscles tensed at the memory of that day, and of the days before it.

‘He’s long gone,’ I said. ‘He said he’d never be back.’

‘Could he have changed his mind? He would have known about the picture, about Laura,’ Cliona said. ‘He hurt you before, Elizabeth.’

I started to cry. I hadn’t wanted to think about him.

‘I just think … if there’s even a chance, you should let the police know. You didn’t report the assault last time …’

‘He’s my son,’ I said, which I knew was a pathetic reason for not reporting him.

Especially after how he’d left me, but I had known he was hurting. He was grieving just as I was. But in a different way, and I’d closed down, let him down, so he took that anger out on me. He’d been so remorseful. Promised to leave and never come back. Even before he’d been ordered out of the country by shady forces who’d got wind of how he’d left his mother half dead.

‘I know,’ she said softly. ‘But is there even a chance he’s come back? I assume he’d have access to your house, too?’

He probably had a key, but I’d have known if he’d been in the house, wouldn’t I? And the police said there was a link between Michael and Rachel. So it couldn’t be Aaron. He was still gone. I was still safe.

‘You know that I’m bound by confidentiality,’ she said, ‘but in this case, I feel I have to bring this information to the police. Simply because there’s a woman in immediate danger.’

I wanted to block out what she was saying. What I was thinking. That a child of mine could be capable of such evil. I knew it was a warped logic, but I could take it if it was just against me. I’d deal with that. But if he’d hurt those women … If he was the sick mind behind those notes … I felt sick to my core.

I’d done everything I could to push him out of my head over the last eighteen months. I’d cleared out his bedroom. It was now just filled with boxes, pieces of furniture that no longer had a place in my house.