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

Estelle paid for the papaya then walked back into the crowds, leaving the market and finding a quiet alleyway as she pulled out her phone. She needed to find out more about Poppy O’Farrell.

There must be some kind of connection.

She explored all the articles she could find about Poppy, eyes glancing over her pretty face in the various photos of her; the familiar media shots of her famous father.

Then a headline came up, a story from that morning. As she took it in, Estelle went completely still.

Poppy O’Farrell Adopted

‘Oh Jesus,’ she whispered. The walls of the alleyway seemed to press in around her.

Calm down, she told herself. Plenty of kids are adopted.

She snuck a look at the photo she’d taken of the Polaroid on her phone, at the girl’s brown eyes, the brown roots showing …

Estelle closed her eyes, heart thumping. Then she quickly dialled the number DC Jones had given her. He picked up within a few rings.

‘It’s Estelle Forster, we spoke earlier,’ she said in a hurry. ‘I just read Poppy O’Farrell’s adopted. Is it true?’

A sigh. ‘Yes, I heard that had got out. Why are you asking?’

‘It’s just—’ Estelle paused.

‘Just what?’ the detective pushed.

Estelle swallowed, mouth feeling unbearably dry. ‘I – I gave a baby up for adoption fifteen years ago, a girl.’ She thought of the photo of Poppy again … brown eyes just like Estelle’s.

‘I see,’ the detective replied slowly. ‘Where did you give birth?’

‘Lillysands, a town in Devon.’

He paused a moment. ‘I think we should come and have a chat with you now, Estelle.’

Estelle leaned against the wall, blinking away tears.

Was Poppy O’Farrell the beautiful baby girl she’d said goodbye to fifteen years earlier?

Chapter Five (#ulink_d9158cd3-38b7-5b4c-95dc-2455dcee160e)

I see you standing there. Can you sense me watching you?

You’re usually so good at hiding your feelings. Not now though.

You look so sad. So confused.

I ought to feel guilty. And yes, it oozes at the back of my mind, briefly. But it doesn’t take much to shut it down.

You deserve this, after all.

You told me you felt like this when they put you into care. Like you were helpless on a stormy sea. But then Autumn and Max came along, your anchors.

Well, they’re not here for you now, are they?

So maybe you’ll drown.

And then you’d be really pure, not just covering up the filth inside like you’re doing now with grown-up dresses and pretty hair.

But clean inside and out, just like you told me you wanted to be.

And then you’ll realise what you’ve done.

You’ll understand why I’m doing what I’m doing.

To save you, in a way. To save all of us.

Chapter Six (#ulink_e0ed1f1d-d816-5d78-b220-b21f2325d86e)

Estelle cycled back home in a frenzy, heart galloping, mouth dry. By the time she got there, there was a police car outside. She placed her bike back in its shed then took a deep breath and walked inside.

Seb was chatting to two police officers in the kitchen, a man and a woman. Estelle quickly looked in the mirror in the hallway, smoothing down her hair. Reflected back at her were her startled brown eyes, skin ashen beneath her tan.

‘Hello,’ she said, walking into the kitchen.

‘These officers wanted to talk to you about the photo, Estelle,’ Seb said, an edge in his voice. He was clearly still annoyed at Estelle for rushing out like that.

‘I’m Detective Richard Jones,’ the man said, putting his hand out to Estelle. He looked younger than she’d expected, late twenties. But Estelle had a feeling he was older. ‘And this is PC Alex Thorburn.’

The policewoman, pretty with long dark hair up in a ponytail, smiled at Estelle.

‘Mind if we chat alone?’ the detective asked Seb.

‘Sure,’ Seb said. ‘That okay, Estelle?’ He was looking into her eyes like he wanted her to insist on him staying.

But she didn’t. ‘It’s fine.’

Seb grabbed his hoodie then gave Estelle a hard look before heading outside. Estelle turned back to the officers; she had more important things to deal with.

‘First thing’s first,’ the detective said. ‘Can we see the photo?’

‘I just need to get it from my office. Would you like a drink?’ Estelle asked, unable to help herself going into host mode despite wanting to scream one big question at the police officers: ‘Is Poppy O’Farrell my daughter?’

‘Coffee would be great actually,’ the detective said with a wry smile as he sat on one of the stools. ‘Was on the late shift last night.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t have any coffee. But I have green tea?’ The detective wrinkled his nose slightly. ‘There’s caffeine in it,’ she quickly added.

‘You sound like my wife. All right, that’ll be great, thanks.’

‘Same for you?’ she asked the female police officer. PC Thorburn nodded.