‘I can’t, not again. You need to leave me alone … please.’

‘Or what? What happens if Nicholas knows the police were here? What are you so scared of?’

‘Please. This can’t happen. You don’t understand.’

‘Then make me understand. Tell me why we can’t come here.’

Marilyn wore her shocked expression like a mask. There was no movement, not for a few seconds. Then she said, ‘Please don’t come here again.’ And the door was pushed shut. Joel was ready for it, and stuck his foot out for the door to bounce off it.

‘When we were here last, you said that your husband loved you and your family. Then you said, “Our children are innocent.” What did you mean by that?’ Marilyn stared down at his foot. Her slim fingers still gripped the door and she was still half a step behind it, using it to hide behind. She didn’t reply so Joel continued. ‘It seemed odd at the time but I couldn’t think why. You weren’t just talking about Emma, were you? You were talking about other children too. The Evans children perhaps?’

She was back looking at him now, just one eye visible, but it was enough for Joel to see the unease.

‘I fear for the safety of all children, for all those other girls but—’

‘A fourteen-year-old girl is dead.’ Joel leaned forward, his foot squeaking against the bottom of the door. There was still no give. The one eye that was visible still fixed on him. ‘It should have been Callie Evans but someone made a mistake and the poor girl lying next to her in hospital got it instead. Think about that for a moment. An innocent little girl, wrong place wrong time, attacked in her hospital bed. That could have been anyone. That could have been Emma.’

Marilyn’s nostrils flared with a breath, the only outward sign of a reaction.

‘Callie’s dad is dead too, shot dead just a few days after he met with a private investigator in a hotel not far from here. Your husband registered his own company at your previous address. What is it he does?’

‘He doesn’t … he doesn’t work so much anymore …’ she muttered, then trapped her bottom lip in her teeth like she shouldn’t say another word.

‘And when he did?’

‘He worked on fraud detection, people stealing from their own firms, that sort of thing …’

‘He’s a private investigator, Marilyn, isn’t he?’

‘I … No, he works—’

‘He may call it something different when it suits him, but that’s his background. Is he here?’

‘No!’

‘Where is he?’

‘I … I don’t know.’