Her phone sat on the wireless charging dock by the bed. She lifted it and checked for messages, even though she knew there would be none. Hadn’t been for months. Not since before she had taken those pills. Damien had asked her friends, the few she’d had left, to give her some space. He had told her so after she had regained consciousness on the emergency ward. They were no good for her anyway, he’d said. Poisoning her mind with their gossip. They were jealous, he’d said, envying what she and Damien had together. They’d ruin things if she let them. Better to keep them at a distance, just for now. Just until things were more settled.

The phone was three generations out of date, but she had no need to upgrade it. The only person who ever called or texted these days was her husband.

A thought occurred to her, and she hesitated for a moment. Should she? She should.

Sara sat on the edge of the bed and opened the phone’s web browser. She searched for the words “care home” and “Morganstown.” They still lacked an internet connection at the house, and the 4G signal was patchy at best out here, so it took some time for the results to load.

The first was Greenway Care and Convalescence Home, Morganstown. Next to it, a blue icon of a telephone handset, with the word “Call” beneath it. Without considering her actions, she thumbed the icon and brought the phone to her ear. The dial tone chimed twice.

“Good morning, Greenway, Margaret speaking, how can I help?”

Hang up, Sara thought. Hang up now.

Instead, she asked, “Do you have a resident called Mary?”

The question felt blunt in her mouth, tumbling gracelessly out.

A pause, then, “Who’s calling, please?”

Sara closed her eyes tight, swallowed, gathered her words. “Sorry, my name is Sara Keane. A woman came to our house this morning. She’d wandered off from a care home nearby, and my husband brought her back. He didn’t tell me which one, and I wondered if it was yours?”

“Mary Jackson,” Margaret said, her voice officious. “Yes, we must apologise again. We’re still looking into how she managed to find her way out during the night. We’re very grateful to Mr. Keane for bringing her back. I can assure you, this sort of incident is very rare. We take the security of our residents very—”

“Is she all right?” Sara asked. “She had a cut. And she was so cold. I just wanted to make sure she was okay.”

“She’s fine,” Margaret said. “One of the nurses on staff is looking at the cut, and we’ve a doctor coming out to check on her later.”

“Good,” Sara said. “It’s just, I was worried for her.”

She heard Margaret’s exhalation, an easing in her tone.