They both sit down opposite me and introduce themselves for the purposes of the tape.

‘So you’ve told us that you visited Mr Talbot’s flat on the evening of the twenty-third of June.’

I nod.

‘Would you mind answering the question?’ says Detective Robson, tilting her head in the direction of the tape recorder.

‘Yes,’ I say loudly.

‘Because you were worried about his wellbeing, but he wasn’t in.’

‘He didn’t answer the door, no.’

I squirm as they play the incriminating doorbell footage again.

‘What did you mean when you said, “Is she in there with you? You’re going to need to come out, because I’m not leaving until I see you”?’

I sigh. ‘I thought Jacob’s wife might be in there, holding him against his will.’

‘Michael’s, you mean?’

I nod before remembering the rules. ‘Right.’

‘Because she’d allegedly threatened him on the phone?’

‘Not allegedly, no. She called him to say she knew where he was and implied that she was going to come for him.’

I look from one officer to another. ‘Can I just ask whether you’re holding her to account in this matter?’

They both look at me blankly.

‘She’s the one you need to be talking to,’ I cry. ‘I’m in no doubt that she would follow through on her threat.’

‘We’re not at liberty to—’

‘For God’s sake!’ I’ve lost the patience I’ve tried so hard to hold on to. ‘He lived in fear of her and now he’s disappeared, you’re wasting your time on me.’ I fall back in my chair, forcing myself to breathe and calm down. ‘I have no reason to wish him any harm. He was my client, nothing more.’

Detective Harris pushes a print-out of an email across the desk to me, the tips of his fingers resting on it territorially.

‘We have now managed to access Mr Talbot’s emails and there are a number of messages between the pair of you.’

I squint, more at the false accusation than the piece of paper itself. I can’t ever remember an email exchange between us. I can’t see any reason why I’d even have his email address, as all our conversations were either on the phone or by text.

‘I’m sorry, what’s this?’

‘It’s an email exchange, apparently between you and Mr Talbot,’ says Detective Robson.

Harris releases the piece of paper from his grip and my brow furrows as I pick it up and start reading.

Darling Michael,

I know you didn’t mean what you said last night.

You’ve probably woken up this morning regretting it, but I just want you to know that I still love you, more than ever, and NOTHING you say will ever make me love you less.

Call me when you can.

Love always,

Naomi x