The photograph quivers as Mark takes it from DS Forbes and then returns with it to the sofa, holding it tentatively by the edges as though it’s a bomb, primed to go off. He rests it on his thighs. A man in his mid- to late forties gazes up at us. He has a long face with deep hollows under his cheekbones, heavily lidded eyes and wide, thin lips. His greying hair is thinning at the front and neatly cropped. His face is unremarkable. He looks like someone who might live next door, or work behind the counter at the garden centre, or play guitar in the pub on a Friday night. But it’s his eyes I focus in on. They are blank, expressionless: cold grey pools with pinprick pupils. I want to look away before his face imprints in my mind but I can’t stop staring.

‘No.’ Mark snatches up the photograph and hands it back to DS Forbes. I inhale, snatching air into my lungs. How long have I been holding my breath?

‘Claire?’ DS Forbes looks at me. ‘Do you know him?’

‘I’ve never seen him before. Who is he?’

He rubs a hand across his jawline, dark with stubble, and Mark reaches for my hand. I press my face into his shoulder and squeeze my eyes shut. Oh please, God. Please don’t let him say—

‘He has confessed to killing Billy. And while we don’t yet have any evidence that he was responsible we have begun an investigation—’

A gasp catches in my throat followed by a wail of anguish that begins in my guts and works its way up through my body and out of my mouth.

No.

No.

No.

NO.

A roar fills the room – primal and terrifying. I clutch Mark instinctively but the sound is coming from him.

‘Claire. Mark.’ I feel a hand on my shoulder and DS Forbes’s voice in my ear. Mark falls silent but I feel myself tense. I want the policeman out. I want him out of our house so I can drop to the floor and smack my head against the floor until I pass out.

‘Mark.’ The hand remains on my shoulder but the voice fades, ever so slightly. ‘Mark, listen to me. At the moment it’s just a confession. Jason Davies is in prison. He confessed to his cellmate that he was involved in Billy’s disappearance and the cellmate was overheard discussing it with another inmate and—’

‘So he might be lying?’

‘That’s a possibility, Mark. But we have to take confessions of this nature very seriously.’

‘Has he done it before?’ I can hear the fear and anger in my husband’s voice. ‘Is that why he’s in prison? Has he hurt kids before?’

‘I can’t share that information with you, Mark, I’m sorry.’

‘But you can tell me he confessed to killing our child!’

‘Mark, I know this is difficult—’