“So, either Daisy’s back in the UK, or someone’s pretending she is?” She glances away, towards the road. When she looks back at me, there’s a light in her eyes. “Is this connected to your accident in any way? Sheila said something about a CID investigation. I thought she’d got confused, because CID wouldn’t get involved unless there was something a lot more serious going on … like … attempted murder.” She takes a step towards me, so she’s standing uncomfortably close. “Has someone been making death threats, Emma?”

I can almost hear the cogs whirring away in her head. She can’t have got much of a story up to now – Emma Woolfe becomes Jane Hughes, animal sanctuary worker, girlfriend to a local teacher, virtual hermit – but this this is something new. This is something her editor would be very interested in. I can see it in her eyes. She’s either a first-class actress or she genuinely wasn’t behind the letter, the text or the Facebook messages.

“Talk to me, Emma. This all sounds really scary.” She gazes at me with doe eyes, her face the picture of genuine concern. “Tell me your story. There’s been a cloud hanging over you since you returned from Nepal five years ago, what with all the speculation concerning Daisy’s disappearance and Leanne’s death, and this could be your chance to set the record straight. Our readers would be ever so sympathetic, especially with everything that’s happened recently.”

“No.” I back away. “I’m not interested.”

“It’s all going to come out anyway, Emma. You know that, don’t you? Sheila, Anne, Barry, Derek, they’re all going to find out who you really are. You may as well put your side across. I know the local community would be completely understanding of your pretence if they knew what you’ve been through.”

“No.” I take another step backwards. “I told you. I don’t want to speak to you, and I want you to go.” I gesture at her car.

“Go, or I’ll call PC Barnham,” I say through gritted teeth.

Angharad sighs, a resigned look on her face. “I’ll go, I’ll go. But if you change your mind, just give me a ring at The Post. I’ll handle your story sympathetically. Despite what you might think, I do actually like you.” She turns and opens the car door then slips inside. The tyres crunch on the gravel as she reverses out of her parking space then straightens up and drives out of the yard.

I press a key on my mobile then hold it to my ear. “PC Barnham, please.”

Chapter 40

Chapter 40

Five Years Earlier

“Emma,” a female voice says. “Emma, sit up.”