I force myself forwards, struggling to stay upright as I stumble through the undergrowth. My lungs can’t work quickly enough as I suck in the air I need to stop myself from keeling over. I can’t help but feel as if I’m an unwitting guest at a murder mystery party, trying to figure out the macabre clues that are being left like pieces of cheese; every single one of them luring me towards the spring-loaded, cast-iron jaws of a mousetrap.

15

I don’t remember the route I took home, but my senses are returned to sharp clarity by the dark blue Ford sitting on the drive.

‘Ah, Mrs Chandler,’ says the policewoman from yesterday as she appears from around the side of the cottage. I immediately feel as if I’ve been caught out and my cheeks flush.

‘Detective Inspector Robson,’ she says, flashing her ID. ‘And you remember my colleague, Detective Sergeant Harris. May we come in?’

‘What’s this about?’ I ask, as I put the key into the front door.

‘Some new information has come to light about Michael Talbot that I hope you might be able to help us with.’

Does she know about the credit card? Might she have overheard the announcement on the tannoy?

‘I’ve told you all I know,’ I say, as my mouth instantly dries up.

‘Not on this matter, you haven’t,’ says Robson.

She’s trying her best to keep the accusatory tone from her voice, but suspicion and distrust drip from every syllable. My chest tightens as I push the door open, knowing that her doubt in my story is validated.

‘So, how can I help you?’ I ask, as the three of us stand in the living room. They won’t be staying long enough to warrant offering them a seat.

‘We found Mr Talbot’s phone in his flat,’ says Harris.

I wonder if I should comment on how odd that is. That no one goes anywhere without their phone these days. Otherwise, it looks as if I already know that Jacob has.

‘He wouldn’t have left without his phone, surely?’ I say, looking between them. ‘Not if he’d gone willingly.’

‘It’s of some concern,’ says Robson. ‘But it has meant that we’ve been able to access all of Mr Talbot’s recent activity.’

‘Great,’ I say feebly. ‘Hopefully we’ll get some answers.’

They look at each other before Harris takes a phone out of his inside pocket and swipes it open.

‘Mr Talbot made a call to you on the night of the twenty-first of June. I assume that was when he told you that his wife had found out where he was.’

‘Yes,’ I say, feeling hot around the back of my neck. I lift my hair and pull it over my shoulder in an attempt to cool myself down.