“I don’t know,” she said, “I thought it was the best thing to do. I’m sorry.”

Patrick squeezed her tightly. “Don’t worry. We’ll just wait until they arrive and tell them there’s nothing to concern them. It’ll be fine.”

She lifted her face away from his chest.

“Patrick.”

“Yes, my love?”

“You have to help me.”

He blew out a long sigh that held exhaustion, reluctance and resignation, but he said, “Yes, darling, I know. I will, don’t worry. You’re safe now, I’ll keep you safe.”

She slid down into the comfort of his words and pretended they could be true.

CHAPTER THIRTEEN

“I’m so sorry for wasting your time like this, Detective,” said Patrick. “My wife’s been under a lot of pressure, caring for the boys. Newborn babies, you know, and they’re twins. She just needs some rest.”

Harper was sitting opposite Lauren and Patrick in their small front room. Lauren held both babies, exactly as she’d been doing the first time they met, in the hospital, with the same protective cradle that was almost a grip. Not everything was the same: this time she was dressed in jogging bottoms and a T-shirt instead of a hospital gown. She seemed thinner, and perhaps paler than before, but the haunted expression was the same. The babies were noticeably bigger, and still colour-coded in sleeveless vests; one in yellow, one in white with green stripes.

“I can’t put them down for more than a few minutes at the moment. They just wake up.”

“I know, darling. I know,” said Patrick. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure you get some rest tonight.” Patrick stroked the head of the baby closest to him, then got up from the couch and turned on a lamp by the fireplace. Outside, the last of the daylight washed the landscape pink and orange.

When Lauren had called, Harper had been in her flat, stretching her calves after a long run. The other woman had sounded so scared. After hanging up she’d thrown on jeans and a top and raced to her car, wondering briefly if she ought to call the station to log her actions before deciding against it. One creepy woman was no match for Harper, and this situation easily passed the threshold for reasonable grounds for arrest. Traffic was sparse and she’d made it across the city to the address in less than nine minutes, already picturing the look on Thrupp’s face when she brought the woman in. Not a figment of someone’s imagination after all, then. See, sir?

It was disappointing in the extreme, therefore, to be greeted with Patrick Tranter’s apologetic face, and no apparent suspect. Patrick hadn’t wanted to let her in, and it had been an effort to get him to invite her inside. But she wouldn’t be turned away—there was still that feeling. She needed to hear what Lauren had to say.

Harper retrieved her notebook and pen from her satchel, and turned towards Lauren. “Tell me exactly what happened.”

Lauren glanced at her husband before she spoke. “I was about to go out. Patrick and I, we’d had a bit of an argument—I just wanted to get away for a few minutes, to clear my head. But when I opened the front door, that was when I saw her.”