Together they showed how the estate had become a place where Chloe questioned even her own judgment.

On the last written page, dated three days before the bus stop, she had recorded one sentence: “I have to find a way out before my baby learns that fear is love.”

She looked up at me.

“I was going to leave on Friday.

I had finally called Tessa.

Then they found the bag.”

I wanted to ask why she had waited.

I wanted to tell her there had been an open door all along.