A strangled gasp escapes from Toni Cotter’s mouth. Her hand claws at her throat as if something invisible is squeezing the very life out of her.

Nancy rushes over, sits next to her and gently pulls away her hand. Deep welts rise on Toni’s skin, like someone has scribbled all over it with a dark red crayon.

PC Holt stares.

‘Can you get Toni a glass of water?’ Nancy asks her and she scuttles, almost thankfully, out of the room.

Anita sits down heavily in a chair, staring at the floor.

‘Who is this person?’ Toni Cotter whispers. ‘Has she told you where Evie is?’

Nancy watches as DI Manvers takes a breath, steeling himself to explain the worst. That they know now who took Evie but the woman is as good as dead.

‘This woman is paralysed following a stroke,’ he says gently. ‘She can’t speak or move. She is currently on a respirator as she cannot breathe unassisted.’

Both Toni and her mother stare at him. Uncomprehending.

‘We don’t know if she’ll survive.’ He glances at Nancy.

‘But she has Evie’s picture; she must know where she is,’ Toni says, her voice raspy. ‘I want to see it, I want to see my daughter’s face.’

‘We have the photograph, Mrs Cotter,’ says DI Manvers. ‘We also have a photograph of the stroke patient in question. When you feel able, we’d like you to look at both pieces of evidence.’

‘I’m ready now.’ Toni Cotter sits up straighter, looks at Nancy and nods. ‘I’m ready right now.’

PC Holt appears with a glass of water.

‘We’re ready,’ Anita confirms quietly.

‘Let’s take it nice and slowly,’ DI Manvers says, glancing at both women in turn. ‘Please, drink your water, Mrs Cotter, we’re in no rush. I appreciate this is a very traumatic time for you both.’

‘I’ve lived in hell, 24/7, for the last three years,’ Toni says. ‘Believe me, I’m more than ready.’

Anita watches her daughter and then turns to DI Manvers. ‘We both are.’

‘Very well,’ he says, looking round the room. ‘Would it be possible to let a little more natural light in?’

Toni Cotter shrinks back into her seat, like she’s worried she might turn to dust when the curtains are opened.

‘It’s just that your initial reaction is quite important,’ he explains. ‘You need to be able to see the photographs as clearly as possible first time.’

‘She hasn’t been out for months, you see.’ With difficulty, Anita gets to her feet. ‘We have the curtains shut all the time because she’s paranoid someone will see her and it’ll all start again.’

‘Sorry, all what?’ Nancy asks.

‘The abuse screamed at her in the street, the broken windows, the filthy messages daubed on the door.’

Nancy glances across at Toni. She seems to have shrunk even smaller, disappearing bit by bit into the corner of the sofa.

‘Everybody blamed her, you see.’ Anita hobbles across the room on her stick. ‘Said she’d neglected Evie, hadn’t been there to pick her up. A drug addict, the newspapers said, when the most she’d ever taken was a couple of sedatives to try and cope.’

She stops and regards her daughter, her heavily lined face creasing further with concern. ‘My girl was already destroyed, but those bastards, the press, they all but finished the job.’

Anita tugs at the curtains and PC Holt helps her draw the blinds up halfway.

‘That’s better,’ the old woman murmurs, peering through the dusty glass as if she’d forgotten there was a world out there.

DI Manvers moves across the room; Toni pulls herself up a little straighter and shuffles nearer to Nancy. The DI extracts two photographs from his inside jacket pocket and hands Toni the first one.

Nancy sees it is the photograph of Evie she found in the patient’s handbag.

‘Can you please tell us,’ DI Manvers says gently. ‘If this is your daughter, Evie?’

Toni stares at it for a few seconds. Everything – her expression, her body, her eyes – seems completely frozen. Everyone in the room holds their breath. A car passes on the road outside; a man walks by chatting animatedly on his phone. The sun ducks behind the clouds and the room darkens slightly.

And then it begins.

Toni’s hands begin to shake and a low, primal growl starts from deep inside her, climbing up through her body and exiting her mouth as a tortured howl that makes Nancy want to sob and run from its source.

Instead, she reaches over to Toni to hold her, but the younger woman shrugs her off.

‘Where is she?’ Toni howls, swaying back and forth in her seat. ‘Where is my baby?’

Anita sits on the arm of the sofa, crying and stroking Toni’s hair.

‘They’ll find her, love. Isn’t that right, DI Manvers?’ She looks up, her eyes filled with mourning, longing for him to say the words. ‘Tell us you’ll find Evie.’

DI Manvers opens his mouth and then presses his lips together. His face has turned a shade paler. He walks over to Toni and crouches down on his haunches in front of her.

‘Toni, can you tell me if this is Evie? Is this your daughter?’

Toni closes her eyes and nods, her whole body rocking in time with her head.

DI Manvers reaches for her hand. ‘Toni, I can’t, I won’t, make any rash promises to you today. But I give you my absolute word that I’ll do everything, everything, in my power to find Evie. Do you believe that?’

Toni opens her wet, red eyes and stares into his face, leaning slightly forward and squinting, as though she is trying desperately to see the future.

‘I believe you,’ she whispers. ‘I really do.’

He stands up and looks at the remaining photograph in his hand. Nancy sees him take a long breath in, as if he is bracing himself for Toni’s reaction.

‘And this is a photograph taken of the female patient,’ DI Manvers says. ‘The doctor removed the respirator for only a few seconds while we took the photograph, so it’s a little rushed.’

‘Why are you helping her to breathe when she might have abducted Evie?’ Anita asks in a cold voice.

‘We only suspect this at the moment,’ DI Manvers says, and turns again to Toni. ‘Mrs Cotter, do you recognise this person?’

Toni takes the photograph from him with shaking hands. Her eyes widen as they settle on the face in the picture. Her face instantly drains of colour. She stands up quickly, staring at the door. The photograph flutters to the floor and Toni follows it, her body crumpling like a discarded puppet.

Nancy kneels at her side, gently laying her hand on Toni’s cheek. ‘She’s fainted. She’ll come round in a minute.’

Soon, Toni opens her eyes and looks straight at Nancy.

‘It was her,’ she whispers, spluttering as the cracked and broken words emerge from her dry, parched throat. ‘All along, it was her. What has she done with my daughter?’