Harper thought about it. Could that have been the truth? Could it have been someone else who took the stroller? She tried to look at it objectively. There’d been no other suspects identified as yet, and no witnesses, apart from herself, unless there were any yet to come forward. All she had to go on was what she’d seen in those few seconds immediately after she’d come around that corner, spotted this woman in the river with the stroller, shouted stop, police, and ran towards her. Natasha had let go of the stroller and scrambled out, trying to get away, almost as quick as the lightning that flashed in that moment, just as if she were guilty.

“So why did you run, if you were trying to bring them to safety? You left them there and tried to leg it. Doesn’t make you look like much of a hero.”

Natasha dropped her eyes. “It’s true, I panicked. I knew you were police, and I knew what it would look like, me with the pushchair, in the water, when everyone had been searching for those babies all over.” She looked back up into Harper’s eyes. “And I wasn’t wrong, was I?”

“Why were you even in the valley? What were you doing there, in the first place?”

“Walking. It’s a nice place for a walk.”

One of the most obvious of the lies. But to show disbelief in an interview was a powerful weapon that needed to be withheld, so she simply said, “Where did you walk from?”

“I drove from town. I parked nearby.”

“But you didn’t park by the millpond, or at the cafe.”

“So?”

“So, that’s where most people park, when they’re walking. We found your car at the edge of the woods, further out towards the peaks. Just past where you were arrested, in fact.”

The two women stared at each other. Natasha said nothing.

“Did you follow Lauren to the valley today?”

“No. I told you. I was walking. I would never follow her. I had no idea she’d be there.”

“So,” said Harper, “you don’t know who Patrick is, but you know who Lauren is?”

Crace rolled his eyes, blew his nose and began to make frantic notes on his pad.

Natasha looked over at him and the lawyer made a chopping motion with his hand, stop talking. She looked back at Harper.

“I … no comment.”

“On the subject of not knowing who Patrick Tranter is, for the tape, I am showing the suspect a transcript of a text-message conversation.”

Harper placed the tablet on the table so that it faced Natasha.

“Also for the tape, I’m going to read out the transcript. Tell me if I get any of it wrong.”

From her printed copy, Harper started to read out the relevant section. Natasha stared at the screen in front of her.

Natasha Dowling’s phone