I'd waved goodbye to Wendy, watching the clock, waiting for enough time to pass before it would be unlikely she would return suddenly. Safe in the knowledge that she wouldn't be home for a few hours, I made a slow walk up the stairs. I'm not entirely sure why nerves had gripped my soul, but their claws dug too deep for me to shake it off.

I trudged past the closed door to Naomi's bedroom, fighting the urge, as I always did when alone in the house, to enter. To lay myself on her bed, to pull her favourite teddy, a stuffed rabbit I'd spent hours - and endless pound coins - trying to win her on a claw machine in the arcades at Leysdown, close and breathe in her scent. Oh, how I longed to see her room just one more time. It was  time capsule, our little five year old girl forever kept behind a permanently closed door. The piece of card Wendy had wedged between the door and the frame stuck out like a sore thumb, taunting me as it always did. She would know in an instant if I ever disobeyed her.

Through tear-filled eyes, I made my way to our bedroom. Wendy's closet door was ever so slightly ajar, no doubt done so in her rush to leave. She would never normally have gone anywhere without first checking it was closed and locked. I thanked whatever force had worked in my favour that day. She always wore the key on a chain around her neck, forever distrustful of me.

She had organised her clothes by colour, coat-hangers all facing the same way. Not a speck of dust settled there, nothing so much as a millimetre out of place. If I was going to do this, I needed to make sure everything went back just as it was. I took a deep breath, readying myself. Once I did this, there was no going back. It was all or nothing. I reached up, grabbing the first of two boxes from the shelf above her dresses.

Rifling through, I soon realised this box contained only photos of mine and Wendy's wedding and memories she had with her family growing up. It was of no use to me. Laying each picture back in carefully, I placed it where I had found it. Grabbing the second box, I yelled out in shock and pain. A small green book flew at me from the top of the box, hitting my forehead before landing with a thud on the floor, its contents sprawled over my feet.

A black-and-white photo caught my eye. On closer inspection, I realised it was an ultrasound photo. One I'd never seen before. Twin A. Twin B. The words knocked the wind from me. It made no sense. The date and name in the top left-hand corner told me in clear capital letters that the image had been taken during Wendy's pregnancy with Naomi, but there had to be some mistake. She was never pregnant with twins. She would have told me. There was just no way. And yet, there they were. Two specks in a bubble, labelled for the world to see.

"Why didn't you tell me?"

I flipped open the notebook, filing through the pages. A diary of sorts, I realised. Naomi's name had been written over and over throughout. I instantly recognised the dates. It was the weeks leading up to Naomi's kidnapping. I'd been working away that weekend. If I'd been home, maybe things would have been different. Wendy had spat this truth at me on many occasions over the years, not that she needed to. The guilt had eaten me alive well enough on its own.

I leant against the closet door, reading page after page. Learning about Wendy's struggles as a new mother, her frustration at being unable to breastfeed, her exhaustion as Naomi started to teeth. One date caught my attention more than any other. The day Naomi was taken. My eyes moved across the page, widening with each word I read. It could be. It just couldn't. I dropped the book to the floor, screaming as pain seared through me. It couldn't be true.

————-

"Mr Collins, what was in that book? What did you read?"

I'm crying now, my body shaking uncontrollably. There is nothing but sympathy in the officer's eyes as he opens the page to the date I gave. I know he's reading it, taking in every sick and twisted word she wrote, but I also know, for the recording's sake, that I have to say out loud what that book holds. Bile rises into my mouth. I can't do this.

"It's okay, Mr Collins. I understand this is hard. Take your time."

No amount of time in the world could ever prepare me to say these words aloud. 

"It says that my wife killed her. All this time, she let me believe our daughter was out there and she knew. She knew where she was!"

I relay word for word what I'd read, the officer's face unreadable as I do. When the words are finally out of my mouth, floating in the space between us, I gasp for breath. I'm going to be sick. I must have been green because the female officer hands me my bottle of water with a knowing glance.

"What did you do next, Mr Collins?"

————-

I took the book and the scan photo, leaving the mess behind. I didn't care that Wendy would know that I'd invaded her space. The room was closing in on me and I just needed to get out. The girl who thought she was Naomi, she had a right to know the truth. I know I should have come here first, but I wanted her to hear it all from me before she saw it in the papers or wherever else she might hear it from. I'd phoned her, explaining I had something important to tell her. She was just thankful, I think, to have heard from me again so soon.

We met at the same cafe, though this time I had no appetite. I let her eat first. She said she'd not long got off a night shift at the local hospital. Who would believe it? My daughter, a doctor! I don't think I could swell more with pride. I'd watched the confusion spread across her face as she took in the scan photo that I had shown her first.

"So I'm not Naomi?"

I shook my head, laying my hand on top of hers.

"No, but that doesn't mean you're not my daughter. I'm so sorry. If I had known about any of this, I would have found you. I would never have let you grow up without me. If I could get back those years we've missed out on, I would do it in a heartbeat."

She nodded, her eyes never leaving the picture in her hand.

"So where is Naomi?"

I took a deep breath before handing over the notebook; the page marked clearly with a receipt I'd found in my car.

"Brace yourself. It's difficult to read. I'm so sorry Jules."

Her face contorted, hand over her mouth as she took in the blue words before her. The same look of horror that I'm sure was on my face just hours before, spreads across hers. We said nothing. I watched as tears slipped down her cheek, landing on the table. I wanted to reach a hand out, to stroke them away, but felt better of it.

"What do we do now?"

The question floated between us. I hadn't thought any further than telling Jules what I'd found. I knew the right thing was to bring everything to the police, but what if it wasn't enough? She'd written briefly about the ways she'd hurt Naomi. Little pinches here, a slap there. The real reason for the bruises she had convinced me were common. Children being children, she had said. It had been under my nose that entire time and I had failed my daughter. I had failed them both.

"I get hold of my medical records. Thank god my doctors are quick with this sort of thing. Then I take all of this to the police. She won't get away with this, I promise. She's caused too much pain for too many people."

Jules nodded, finally lifting her gaze to meet mine. I see all that I'd once loved in Wendy in the youthful, kind face. I see who Naomi could have been had it not been for unjust jealousy and anger.

"I'm coming with you." She promises, gently squeezing my hand.

It took all my strength not to break then and there. I told myself not to imagine the life we could have shared, the birthdays we could have celebrated. I told myself not to think about the graduation ceremony Wendy stole from me. From Jules. The future she stole from Naomi. I couldn't let myself think about any of it. Nothing I could do could turn back the clock, would bring me both of my girls. I could only think forward. Could do nothing more than make sure they got the justice they deserved and made as many memories with Jules as she and the time I had left would allow.

"When this is all over, I want to show you Naomi's things. You can take anything you want. I know it isn't much, but I hope it can bring you some comfort, can help you feel close to her."

She smiled softly as she nodded. I just prayed that when this was all over, Jules would want to get to know the old man in front of her. She might never call me dad. I understood and respected that. Another man had raised her and loved her when it had not been possible for me to do so. But I was - am - willing to do anything to make up for lost time, willing to be whoever she wanted to call me.

I told her to go home. To get some rest. I promised her I would do nothing until she was ready. Besides, I still had to get my records. I was sceptical, unsure whether any of you would believe me. I'm thankful to you both. It isn't easy to admit to anyone that your wife is abusive, that you've lived in fear of your life for longer than you can remember. The signs were there all the time. I just didn't see them. I beg you, please make sure Naomi's murder doesn't go unpunished. My little girl deserves so much more than that. Do what you need to do, to make sure justice is served. Please.