My mantra had kept me going last night and this morning. Any moment now. I’d thought it when I’d come back into playgroup at lunchtime. I’d clung to it when the police and SES had updated me then, even though they had no leads. Any moment now. It had seemed possible that with so many searchers, the media, the police, the SES, someone had to find her.

But now night was coming again.

I collapsed into the one lounge chair in the playgroup room and let my body sag. Wrapping my arms around myself, I ached for the touch of my daughter. Her soft breath on my face as she asked: ‘Mummy, what doing today?’ ‘Mummy, come do dress-up.’ ‘Mummy, read it again.’ ‘Mummy, dance with me.’

But instead of my Bella, Detective Sergeant Caruso was watching me. He brought one of the other chairs close to me and sat down.

‘I need to talk to you about a few things.’

My stomach lurched. If the detective had bad news, wouldn’t he wait until Marty was here? I scanned the room for Imogen. She was in the far corner, speaking with Julia and Mel. Julia had appeared at playgroup late this afternoon with no mention of where she’d been this morning or last night. Tara was here earlier and then went home to put Daisy down. Soon, all the mums would go home for dinner with their children. They promised that their husbands would come in for the night search later.

‘Mrs Parker, where were you on Thursday afternoon around three thirty?’

Huh? Why was he asking me this? The detective smiled encouragingly, his teeth white against his olive complexion. This man is going to find Bella. Help him to help you.

‘I was looking for Bella. I don’t know where. I was out searching by myself, then with Marty. We went back to our house at some point and then came back here.’

‘Did you go into the city?’

‘NO!’ It came out more forcefully than I intended. ‘I was looking for Bella.’

Time had stopped at ten thirty yesterday morning. I couldn’t recall the hours before I went to playgroup. Or the hours after.

‘Do you know Brendan Parrish?’

The question threw me. I was expecting him to mention a sighting in the city, a lead—not the name of a local schoolteacher.

‘Yes, he took some photos for our playgroup.’

The image he’d taken of Bella was framed and hanging in the corridor. Everyone said it was amazing. It was the photo I’d given to the media. Shit—at the museum, I had to constantly check copyright for the displays, image reproduction and research papers. Could the man be chasing down an attribution? No, Brendan wouldn’t be that callous.

‘Have you seen him since he took the photos?’