‘C’mon, Tom, don’t give up, stay strong. Amber needs us.’ Dropping his head back, his eyes stare to the stars twinkling above us. His mouth opens, groaning with fear. The pain travels into the night sky drowning out all other sounds on its way.

‘Stop it, I need you. Stop it.’ My pleas float past him. He’s like a werewolf howling at the moon. I don’t know what to do.

Eventually he stops, looks at me. His eyes full of energy, fuelled by fear.

‘C’mon, Sal, let’s find our baby.’

Just as we’re about to get into the car, the second cop, the one who was on the phone, walks over. He must have reported back to Burke that we arrived at the hotel. She’s saying she wants us back to the house, they need to co-ordinate a search and they need our input. After seeing how hysterical Tom has become, the cop tells us to leave our car where it is and travel with them.

Search… Search. The word shakes my very existence. It echoes of dead bodies, buried bodies, bodies hidden in fields, sprawled amongst the brambles, bodies floating head-down in water, still waters, fresh waters. Tom is holding me up now. I’m trying to stay alive.

Chapter Forty-Four

Not all roads should be travelled and this is one of them. Sitting in the back of the police car, sirens blaring, moving us swiftly through the city to where we don’t want to go, I think of Amber. Sweet Amber.

The day she was born was the best day of my life. Her tiny lips, pink skin, eyes like jewels gleaming up in wonder. Amber was a good baby, ate and slept when she was supposed to, not like the boys. It was hit and miss with Cian and Aaron. One sleeping while the other cried for food. One being bathed while the other covered himself in muck. But maybe that was my fault. There was no real routine until they got to the crèche. With Amber, there was more time and I was more besotted by my new job as mammy.

In the weeks coming up to Amber starting school, she would stand at the front door every day with the school bag Ellen had made such a fuss of buying her and practise walking out the door with the bag on her back.

No practice prepared me. I cried the whole way to the school. It was the first time I saw that look, the one she gives me when she wants me to stop embarrassing her.

My eyes are closed. I allow my head to sink briefly against the car seat headrest and pray to God that my little girl is okay. ‘Did you ring Ellen?’ Prayer reminded me of her.