Patrick cleared his throat. Lauren glanced at him again.

“I mean, that was when I thought I saw her. In the bushes across the road. I told Patrick to look but he couldn’t see anyone there. It was quite shadowy, I suppose. And it’s true, I am really tired. I can’t think straight most of the time, to be honest.”

“It’s not your fault, darl. None of this is. You can’t help it.” Patrick stroked his wife’s shoulder. “Do you want me to take one of the boys?”

She blurted, “No,” and flinched away, but immediately offered an apologetic smile. “Maybe in a minute.”

The “no” had occurred in Harper, too, a stab in her gut. She wants to hold them, couldn’t he see that? She needs to have them close to her. Where they’re safe, where they belong. Harper tried to ignore her own longing to reach out and take one, to feel the warm weight of a baby in her arms again. At the same time she knew it couldn’t ever be the same, to hold someone else’s child.

“Did you recognise the person you saw?” asked Harper.

“There wasn’t a person,” said Patrick. “She just told you. She didn’t actually see anyone. It wasn’t there, there wasn’t anyone there.”

Harper stared at Patrick for a split second before returning her attention to Lauren. “But on the phone, Mrs Tranter, you said it was the same woman you’d seen in the hospital.”

“Yes,” said Lauren, “I—”

Patrick said, “This is quite a delicate subject, Detective. Do you think we need to explore this right now? Do you think my wife needs to discuss her mental-health issues with you, right now?”

Lauren was staring at Harper. Harper was convinced that, yes, Lauren did in fact want to talk about it. But her husband, clearly, did not want her to. Harper’s instinct, and her training, told her to ignore Patrick.

“Mrs Tranter—Lauren? Is there anything else you’d like to tell me?”

Lauren looked away. Her mouth turned down at the corners and she shook her head, no.

Hiding her frustration, Harper turned to Patrick. “So, Mr Tranter,” she said, “tell me what you saw.”

Irritation crossed his face. “I didn’t see anything, or anyone. I went outside and had a look around, more for my wife’s sake than anything. She was worried, and I wanted to make sure there was no one there.”

“But you didn’t think there was anyone there, before you went outside?” said Harper.

“No.”

“So why did you go running up the road without your shoes?”

“I told you. I wanted to make sure.”

Harper gave Patrick a long look. Why would a man rush outside barefoot if he was truly convinced there was nothing to chase? Shoes would only take a moment to find and put on. She narrowed her eyes. Patrick became uncomfortable under her scrutiny, crossing and re-crossing his arms and frowning. He reached down to scratch his foot where a bandage had been applied. Was this the story of a dedicated husband, making a sacrifice in the moment to appease his anxious wife? Or was this a man with something to hide? There was a veil over Patrick. She could smell his lies. In contrast, looking at Lauren was like looking at a glass of water. If she was trying to conceal anything, it was only her confusion, her shame.