For fuck’s sake, leave me alone! Louisa pulled the towel tighter around her, backing away from the top of the stairs. ‘I’ve just got out the shower – can we do this another time? I’m fine, though, so no need to worry.’

‘I won’t stay long, but I really need to touch base with you.’

‘Why? Has something happened? Has there been news on Melissa?’

There most definitely was news on Melissa, Louisa thought, which was why seeing Oliver right now was not a good idea. She didn’t know how much he knew about Melissa’s past, whether he knew that she and Tiff had been friends, or at least known each other. It could be he knew all of that, which was why he’d been visiting her too, because he thought she might know where Melissa was. Why hadn’t Tiff mentioned any of this to her? It seemed crazy, given the circumstances, not to say anything. And she’d even said, ‘you never told me about Oliver’, insinuating Louisa had kept that quiet from her. And all along it was Tiff keeping things from her.

‘The police came to see me, yes.’

Louisa clenched her fists, her knuckles turning as white as the towel she was gripping. ‘Hang on, then.’ She ducked back into the bedroom. Her hands shook as she tried to pull her jeans up over her still-damp thighs. The anticipation of what Oliver was about to tell her pressed its weight down in her stomach, the resulting dragging sensation causing nausea. Was there a possibility that something had happened to Melissa since Friday? Just because she was alive then, didn’t mean that Oliver hadn’t found out where she was and done the unthinkable to her in the meantime.

She shook her head. She had to stop jumping to conclusions about Oliver – yes, he’d been capable of covering up a terrible act when he was younger, but he was an adult now. Had learned from that experience. And he’d felt as though he was protecting her by doing it. Louisa knew the lengths Oliver would go to in order to protect the ones he loved. He’d done it for her, as his girlfriend. So why would he have any reason to harm Melissa – his wife?

Oliver was sitting at the kitchen table, his head bowed, when she walked in.

‘You smell nice,’ he said as she sat beside him.

‘Clean.’ Was all she could muster. ‘Go on. Tell me.’

His deep-brown eyes, shiny with tears, settled on hers. She could feel her heart galloping, was sure it must be literally jumping from her chest.

‘They’ve scaled down the investigation. Right down, so they say. And I knew that already, really. But it still kills me to think they’ve given up.’