‘I specialize in domestic abuse,’ I start. ‘Many of my clients are trapped in relationships where they’re being mentally or physically abused. Sometimes both.’

Robson nods. ‘Is that why Mr Talbot started seeing you?’

I look at her through narrowed eyes, my faculties slowly returning.

‘Jacob was being abused by his wife,’ I say, leaving it there. I don’t want to say any more than I need to.

They exchange a look of surprise. ‘Emotionally, you mean?’ says Harris.

I take a deep breath. ‘Yes, and physically,’ I say.

He almost laughs. ‘Have you seen Mrs Talbot?’

Robson glares at him and turns to face me. Harris clears his throat awkwardly.

‘He left because he was in fear of his life and I gave him a place to live while he sorted himself out.’

‘And you weren’t planning on living there with him?’ steams in Harris, like a bull in a china shop.

‘No!’ I say resolutely.

‘Have you been to the property since Mr Talbot moved in?’ asks Robson.

My mouth dries up as I consider how much I should tell them. Do they need to know I was there last night? That I was so worried about his wellbeing that I went there, let myself in with the spare key and found his phone, yet no sign of him?

They’ll want to know why I didn’t call them then. I’m wondering that myself.

‘No,’ I lie, unsure of what I need to save most, myself or my marriage.

‘In your professional capacity,’ says Harris, ‘do you honestly think Mr Talbot was justified in being in fear of his life?’

‘What’s your name again?’ I bark, incensed by his attitude, both towards me and the man I know as Jacob.

‘Er, Harris,’ he stutters, suddenly not so cocky.

‘Well, maybe you’d do well to revisit your training manual on domestic abuse,’ I seethe. ‘His wife was attacking him and threatening him on a daily basis.’

‘I apologize for my colleague’s glib and insensitive comment,’ says Robson, seemingly genuinely.

I nod my reluctant acceptance. ‘I think you should be speaking to his wife.’

‘She’s the one who’s reported him missing,’ says Robson.

I snort. ‘He left her. That doesn’t mean he’s missing. They’re two very different things.’

‘Was she aware that her husband was seeing you?’ asks Robson.

‘I don’t know,’ I say, shaking my head, trying to fit the jigsaw pieces into place. ‘He was so careful.’

They give each other a sideways glance. ‘Careful?’ says Robson.

I force myself to take a deep breath, to slow myself down, because every word I say seems to shine the light of suspicion on me even further.