I sink down on to the rumpled bed, not sure what to think. In addition to the stress of keeping my own secrets, am I now in possession of Dominic’s secrets? Why was Dominic on his laptop just now? Surely, he would know that the police would want to look at it? What is it that he has to hide? The suspicions that were aroused by my conversation with Pamela yesterday bubble to the surface again. Everywhere I turn, something seems to crop up that makes me think that perhaps Dominic hasn’t been entirely truthful about things since Laurel disappeared. He lied to Fran (and possibly to the police) about his whereabouts on the night that Laurel went missing. He was supposed to meet Pamela, but Pamela says he never showed, so, where was he? He’s never explained himself, merely asked me not to tell Fran he wasn’t at the hospital. He never wanted children – and was engaged to Pamela, although according to Fran marriage was never brought up. He cut Pamela off from her family, the same way Fran says he cut her off from her own sister. That on its own doesn’t seem all that suspicious, but when you factor in his reaction to having to do a police appeal to find his own daughter . . .

I pause for a moment in my thinking, remembering the way his voice had risen, they’ll think we have something to do with it. A cold finger runs down my spine as I face up to the fact that perhaps whoever took Laurel is closer to home than we first thought.

Kelly is alone when I re-enter the kitchen, the hanging copper lights bright overhead to counteract the dimness caused by the closed blinds. The kitchen drawer is open in front of her as she rifles through the old takeaway menus and school letters that fill the junk drawer.

‘Sorry.’ She stands upright, rubbing the bottom of her back with both hands. ‘I was only tidying these things away. They just searched these drawers, I didn’t think Fran would want to see the mess they made.’

‘Where is Fran?’ My skin prickles uncomfortably at the sight of Kelly rifling through the drawers. It’s been easy to slip into thinking of her as an ally, when really Fran was right. Her job is to keep an eye on us.

‘She’s popped out for some fresh air – she didn’t want to be here for the search. I think it’s all a bit much for her today, she looked ever so pale.’

‘She’s struggling, I think,’ I say, ‘she’s had a few nasty messages on the Facebook support page for Laurel. Really nasty, vile stuff. This isn’t going to help today.’ I wonder for a moment if I should mention my feelings about Dominic, but Kelly is talking again.

‘. . . she’s probably gone there.’

I look at her in confusion.