Oli and Cara remain opposite each other in the lounge. The baby suckles noisily at Cara’s breast, his tiny hand sporadically smacking against her shoulder or reaching out to grab her shirt. Cara’s either forgotten her question or is ignoring it. She stares straight ahead looking stunned but also resigned, as if part of her expected something like this to happen.

‘A man came here on Friday,’ Oli says, as Cara rearranges her clothes and burps the baby, his head bobbling atop his neck while she holds him over her shoulder. ‘Do you know who he was?’

Cara shakes her head. ‘I don’t know anything about that. But I went out to do some shopping in the afternoon, so maybe he came then? I took the kids with me. Nicole was gone when we got home.’ Cara is completely deflated now, it’s clear there is zero fight remaining in her.

‘Why did you meet with me last week?’

‘Nicole wanted me to. She wanted to know what you knew.’

From the other side of the room, Oli can hear snippets of Rusty’s account of the situation. He explains his relationship to Oli, the words ‘journalist’ and ‘ex-girlfriend’ breaking through the multiple conversations buzzing around the room. There’s something wrong with his tone. Ever since Oli told him she thinks Evie might be Louise Carter, he’s been distant.

Another detective squats in front of Evie, the little girl listening solemnly to whatever he’s saying. Cooper would be losing his mind at the turn of events. Oli tries not to think about him. Her jaw starts shaking just as the kid looks over at her. She stares back at Evie, and her grief turns to rage. She clenches her fists and drags one of them across her face, flicking the tear away.

She stands up and walks to the back door. Slides it open and steps outside. Shuts it behind her. Rusty calls out to her from the other side of the glass. She ignores him and tries to get a handle on the emotions bouncing around in her skull.

It’s cool out. The white light of a plane flashes intermittently as it glides through the navy sky. After a few minutes, the door swooshes open. Oli tenses but keeps her eyes on the plane, anticipating Rusty’s gentle coaxing to come inside.

‘Ms Groves. It seems you are trying to promote yourself from writing the news to being the news.’

She whirls around. Bowman. He’s wearing the tan trench again but with corduroy pants and a black jumper instead of a suit. He’s clearly come straight from bed, with grey stubble peppering his fleshy cheeks.

‘I think that might be Louise Carter in there,’ Oli cries, stabbing her finger toward the house. ‘I think Nicole Horrowitz has been hiding her away for ten years!’