Her Last Breath: The new gripping summer page-turner from the No 1 bestseller

Estelle quickly flicked the kettle on then went to her office, using the chance to compose herself out of sight. The fact they were here, and so quickly too, clearly meant there was a clear connection now. She retrieved the Polaroid photo and stared down at Poppy, a storm of emotions running through her.

Could it be …?

She took a deep breath, then walked back towards the kitchen, handing the Polaroid over to the detective. He looked at it for a few moments.

‘It is Poppy O’Farrell in the photo, isn’t it?’ she asked.

‘Looks like it.’

Estelle went to the kettle, pouring boiling water over two teabags, trying to stop her hands from trembling.

‘Do you know who her birth parents are?’ she asked carefully, taking the mugs over to the two officers as she examined their faces.

‘Not yet,’ the detective said. ‘But we know where she was born.’

Estelle took in a deep breath. ‘It was Lillysands, wasn’t it?’

The two officers exchanged a look.

‘As I said, we can’t divulge that information yet,’ the detective replied.

Estelle scrutinised the detective’s face. ‘Okay. You can tell me Poppy’s date of birth though, can’t you?’

He held her gaze then pulled his notepad out. ‘Twenty-eighth of April, 2002,’ he said to Estelle.

Estelle’s head started to buzz. This was it, proof.

It was the same date she gave birth.

She pulled a chair out, its metal legs scraping against the floor, and slumped down on it, putting her head in her hands as she got a brief flash of memory: soft brown hair, red face, a tiny body …

Poppy was her daughter. She had to be. It explained why Estelle may have been targeted with the photo; why the police had arrived quicker than they’d first said.

She looked over at the photo.

Someone knew about her connection to Poppy and they had sent her that photo as a way of – what? – telling her that?

She looked up at the officers. ‘She’s my daughter, isn’t she?’

The detective sighed. ‘We can’t know for sure.’

He didn’t say anything but the look in his eyes told her all she needed to know. Estelle felt a debilitating mixture of emotions: elation that she’d got to know the face of the child she gave up. Fear that same girl was missing. And then trepidation that someone knew about that child, someone who wanted to torment her.

‘Is this a recent photo?’ Estelle asked. ‘Do you think it was taken after Poppy ran away?’

‘We can’t be sure until we show it to her parents,’ Detective Jones said.

Parents. That stung Estelle, but she buried the hurt down. They were Poppy’s parents, of course they were, she was silly to be hurt.

‘But she’s wearing the same top she wore the day she ran away, look,’ the policewoman said. ‘Her mum told us it was brand new, only got it the day before. Plus her hair is red too, her dad said she only dyed it a couple of weeks ago.’

‘Yes, I noticed,’ the detective said.

‘So we have to assume whoever took this photo,’ Estelle said, ‘is with Poppy right now. They know me; they’re threatening me.’

‘I wouldn’t call it a threat,’ the detective said.

‘Not exactly nice though, is it? If they’re with Poppy, they—’

‘Calm down, Miss Forster,’ Detective Jones said, interrupting her. ‘We’re confident Poppy just ran away, she’s done it before.’

Estelle frowned. ‘So she’s unhappy?’

‘I wouldn’t say that,’ PC Thorburn said gently. ‘You’d be surprised at the number of well-adjusted happy kids who run away. I guarantee she’ll be back in the next couple of days, always the way.’

Estelle fell silent. She thought of the tiny baby she’d given up, the aching she’d felt as she’d handed her over. She’d hoped in the days, months, years afterwards she might one day see that child again. But with age came acceptance. She probably wouldn’t and that was a good thing. The life she would have given the child would have been a shadow of the life a couple desperate for children could have given her. And looking at the happy family photos she’d seen, maybe she was right.

But if Poppy was so happy, why would she run away? She wasn’t sure about PC Thorburn’s statement, it felt like she was appeasing her.

‘But in the meantime,’ Detective Jones said, interrupting her thoughts, ‘if Poppy turns up here—’

‘Turns up here?’ Estelle asked him in alarm. She hadn’t even considered that. How would she begin to explain it to Seb?

‘If she is your biological daughter and she found out who you were, it makes sense she might try to seek you out.’

‘But how on earth would she know? Other than the authorities, only two people know I gave a baby up for adoption.’

‘So the father and—’

‘No, the father doesn’t know.’ Estelle swallowed.

The police officers exchanged surprised looks.

‘Just Autumn and Max Garland, my foster parents,’ Estelle said. ‘I – I never told the father.’

Guilt threaded through her. It felt cruel now, with hindsight. But it had felt like the right thing to do at the time. She could barely admit the pregnancy to herself back then, let alone him. It had come as such a shock – she was only fifteen. She’d thought she’d finally found her place in the world, there in the beautiful tourist town of Lillysands with the Garlands. And then suddenly there was a child growing inside her, a threat to it all … and to his future as well, on a cusp of exciting things. That’s why she’d kept everything from him, including the fact she’d given their baby up for adoption.

‘Can you tell us the father’s name?’ the detective asked her.

‘Why do you need to know?’ Estelle replied, heart thumping.

‘Same reason,’ the detective said. ‘If the girl is indeed yours, she might have run away with the intention of tracking her parents down.’

Estelle took in a deep breath. ‘Aiden. Aiden Garland,’ she said reluctantly.

The detective’s eyebrow shot up. ‘Garland?’

Estelle swallowed, looking down at her hands, cheeks burning with shame. ‘He was my foster brother.’