‘I’m going to end the call and you are going to go and check that it’s still there. Then you are going to text me, and delete the message, understand?’

I exhale. ‘Okay, fine.’

‘Don’t tell your husband you spoke to me.’

My breath is hard now. I swallow, try to compose myself. I smile in at Cain who is watching me.

‘So,’ I begin casually, opening the door to enter the house. ‘It was just someone from the ambulance service checking that I’m happy to work with Sara full-time for a while.’

‘Kind of them to check,’ he says.

The bagels pop. ‘I’ll make those in a moment,’ I say before climbing the stairs, trying not to rush. Silently I reach in the bottom of my wardrobe, grab the box with the sim card inside. I open it. And already know what I will find. It’s not here. I search, groping through the receipts in the box, pulling them out. The sim card is gone. Daniel knew my address from the MyTrack app. He was in this house. I text Rata.

It’s gone. Then delete the message and lock my phone before closing the box, packing it away and heading back downstairs.

‘So, have you had any more wins?’ I ask taking the warm bagels out.

‘Sorry?’

‘With your betting?’

‘Oh no,’ he says. ‘Nothing like the other day.’

‘How much money are you actually betting?’

It’s awkward but it’s the only way to start this conversation. I’ve been wondering how deep into gambling he has fallen once more. But now I’ve got an ulterior motive. I’ve become suspicious.

I can feel his eyes on my cheek, but I don’t look away from the bagels as I spread avocado.

‘What’s this about, Lina?’

‘I’m just wondering. I mean, we don’t have much money and to win thousands, you need to bet a lot, right?’

‘I probably bet a few hundred a month and sometimes I lose and sometimes I win. I’m going up though, I was even before the big win.’

I try not to react. Yet the idea of him betting makes me feel sick. It reminds me of years ago when he was losing big, betting bigger, chasing his losses. Stressed and angry without work to keep him distracted.

Those words the detective said are bouncing around in my head, colliding with all the other thoughts. People can make a lot of money very quickly doing this sort of thing. ‘It’s just a shock. You were addicted to gambling once, remember? Does that ever go away?’

‘No,’ he says. ‘It doesn’t. But this isn’t gambling, it’s betting. There is a difference.’

I crack salt and pepper now, squeeze a wedge of lemon over the bagels.

Cain takes our coffees to the table. He’s reading a news article on his phone.