I laid the photographs out on the coffee table, one by one.

The cropped ones from seven years ago. And next to each one, Mr Pike's original. The uncropped version, with Ellie smiling in every frame.

“Dan's wife was there all night,” I said. “Someone cut her out.”

Tom picked up the photos and looked from one to the other.

I put down Gordon Pike's signed statement. Then the bank record. Payment of £800. From: A Cole.

“A private investigator, hired by Amber, to follow me to Manchester and ‘get something we can use.' He's ready to say so in any court in the country.”

“That's a lie!” Amber's voice was high and thin. “He's lying! She's paying him!”

“He still had your payment on his bank statement,” I said. “And he remembers you asking him how to fake text messages.”

The room was silent.

Tom turned slowly to look at his wife.

“Amber,” he said. “Did you do this?”