‘Thanks for your time, Mrs Lawrence.’ Caruso nodded at her. ‘If you think of anything, please let me know.’

‘I’ve been praying,’ Imogen said, sniffling, as she stood up. ‘God will help us find Bella.’

Caruso believed in God the same way he twirled his spaghetti. Without thinking too much about it. His Italian Catholic parents expected certain things from him—a steadfast belief in God, a solid job with superannuation, a traditional wedding to a nice girl and a few grandchildren for them to enjoy. He’d covered off the first two. But the traditional marriage had ended in divorce. Casualty of the job. He’d always pictured himself with kids but now, after two decades in the force, he didn’t know if he could bring a child into this world, even if he had a wife. Thankfully, his sister had popped out four in close succession, taking the pressure off him. So, instead of being the most protective father on the planet, he was the most protective uncle. Drove his sister and brother-in-law mad; they preferred to see the world through rose-tinted glasses.

Looking out the window he saw Suze walking around the playgroup yard. Ostensibly, Imogen was showing her the sandpit, the cubbyhouse and the shed where the scooters were kept. Caruso tracked their movements to assess if there were any areas that couldn’t be seen from the chairs where the mums had been sitting. The big window gave the impression that the whole garden was in view, but the corners by the sandpit and the gate were both hidden. While Caruso could see the bottom fence, it was partially obscured by some small trees. And of course there were blind spots behind the shed and the cubbyhouse. Caruso sketched a rough map in his diary, highlighting the blind spots. It was possible, although unlikely, for someone to enter the playground without being noticed.

Julia Fleming. The playgroup organiser. Thirty-two years old. One girl here, one child at school and a baby on the way. Her whole body seemed swollen with the pregnancy, her face round, her wrists plump, her ankles thick. She was the only mum wearing a skirt.

‘We’ve never had a child go missing before.’ Julia’s chin wobbled. Then she gritted her teeth as though trying to stop herself from breaking down.

‘We have officers out there looking for Bella,’ Caruso assured her. ‘So, you have the key to the playgroup. What time did you arrive this morning?’

‘I normally come straight after dropping my daughter at school but today I picked up Tara on the way. I got here at about nine fifteen.’

‘Does anyone else have a key?’

‘No, only the convenors. That’s me. Each playgroup has one convenor.’

‘And what time did—’

‘Oh my gosh, I’ll have to ring the Playgroup Society. They’ll want me to do an incident report.’