Now she had none. Nothing at all. No crutch.

That got her to move, finally, picking herself up, cold sweat in the waistline of her leggings. She staggered towards her desk, plugs hanging loose beneath it. She’d unplugged everything in the room. The printer. The speakers. Her laptop. Her lamp. Her phone charger. All lifeless, trailing wires.

She opened the second drawer, snaked her hand inside and pulled out the burner phone at the front of the line. The same she’d used to text Luke on Wednesday. It was Saturday now, and she’d still not heard back from him. And now she was all out.

She turned on the phone and began to type, frustrated at how slow it was, pressing 4 three times just to get to I.

I’m out. Need more ASAP

Why hadn’t Luke replied yet? He normally would have by now. This couldn’t go wrong too, not on top of everything else. She had to sleep properly tonight; she could already feel her brain moving too slow, sluggish to connect thought to thought. She replaced the burner phone in the drawer, startled by a buzz from her real phone.

Ravi again. You back from your run?

He’d insisted on coming over when she’d called him earlier, still slurry from the pills as she told him about the printer and the speakers. But Pip said no. She needed a run to clear her head. And then she needed to go talk to Nat da Silva about her brother. Alone. Ravi had eventually relented, as long as she kept checking in with him all day. And there was no question about it: Pip was staying over at his house tonight. Dinner too. No question at all, he’d told her in his serious voice. Pip supposed it was a sensible idea, but what if DT somehow knew?

Look, one thing at a time. Tonight was a lifetime away, so was Ravi. She texted him a quick yes, I’m fine. Love you. But now she had to focus on her next task: talk to Nat.

It was the first thing she had to do, and the last thing she wanted to. Talking to Nat, speaking it out loud would make it real. Hey, Nat, do you think it’s at all possible that your brother is a serial killer? Yes, I know, I have a history of accusing you and your family members of murder.

They were close now, she and Nat. Found family. Found, that is, in violence and tragedy, but found nonetheless. Pip counted Nat on her fingers as one of the people who would look for her if she disappeared. Losing Nat would be far worse than losing that finger. What if this talk pushed that bond just a little too far, pushed it to breaking point?

But what choice did she have? All the signs were pointing to Daniel da Silva: he fitted the profile, he used to work at Green Scene and could very well have been the one who set off that security alarm while Jason Bell was at a dinner party, his red-flag interest in the case as a fellow officer, practically one of them, someone close to the Bells that Andie could have been afraid of, someone who had reason to hate Pip.

It all fitted. The path of least resistance.

Gunshots in her chest. Quick couplets that sounded like DT DT DT.

Pip glanced at her phone again. Fuck. How had it just gone three o’clock? She hadn’t emerged from her duvet – the last safe place – until midday, the pills too heavy in her chest to stand before then. And the run had been long, too long. Now she was hesitating, talking herself into it when she just needed to go.

No time for a shower. She peeled off her sweaty top and replaced it with a grey hoodie, zipping it up over her sports bra. She placed her water bottle and her keys in her open rucksack and removed the USB microphones; this conversation with Nat was not one for anyone else’s ears. Ever. Then she remembered she was staying at Ravi’s tonight: she grabbed a pair of underwear and some clothes for tomorrow, fetching her toothbrush from the bathroom. Although she might actually come back here first, to check the burner phone and see whether Luke had any pills for her. The idea was hot and shameful. Pip zipped up the bag and shouldered it, grabbing her headphones and her phone before she left the room.

‘Going to go see Nat,’ she told her mum at the bottom of the stairs, rubbing Stanley’s blood off her hands on to her dark leggings. ‘Then I’m going to the Singhs’ for dinner, and II might stay over, if that’s OK?’

‘Oh. Yes, fine,’ her mum said, sighing as Josh started whinging about something else from the living room. ‘You’ll have to be back in the morning, though. We’ve told Josh we’re going to Legoland tomorrow. Cheered him up for all of two seconds.’

‘Yeah, OK,’ Pip said. ‘Sounds fun. Bye.’ She hesitated by the front door. ‘Love you, Mum.’

‘Oh.’ Her mum looked surprised, turning back to her with a smile, one that reached into her eyes. ‘I love you too, sweetie. See you in the morning. And say hi to Nisha and Mohan from me.’

‘Will do.’

Pip closed the front door. She glanced up at the brick wall beneath her window, standing exactly where he might have stood. It had rained again this morning, so she couldn’t tell, but there were little white disembodied marks up the wall. Maybe they’d always been there, maybe they hadn’t.

She hesitated by her car, and then walked on past it. She shouldn’t drive; it probably wasn’t safe. The pills were still in her system, weighing her down, and the world felt almost like a dream unrolling around her. Out of time, out of place.

She placed the cradle of her headphones around her ears as she left the drive and started walking down Martinsend Way. She didn’t even want to listen to anything, just flicked on the noise cancellation button and tried to float in that free, untethered place again. Disappeared. Where the gunshots and the sputt-sputt and the screaming music couldn’t find her.

Down the high street, past the Book Cellar and the library. Past the café and Cara inside, handing someone two takeaway cups, and Pip could read the words on her best friend’s lips: Careful, they’re hot. But Pip couldn’t stop. Past Church Street on her left, which wound round the corner up to the Bells’ house. But Andie wasn’t in that house, she was here now, with Pip. Turn right. Down Chalk Road, and on to Cross Lane.

The trees shivered above her. They always seemed to do that here, like they knew something she didn’t.

She walked halfway up, her eyes fixating on the painted blue door as it came into view. Nat’s house.

She didn’t want to do this.

She had to do this.

This deadly game between her and DT led here, and she was one move behind.

She stopped on the pavement just before the house, let her rucksack fall to the crook of one elbow so she could place her headphones inside. Zipped it back up. Took a breath and edged towards the front path.

Her phone rang.

In the pocket of her hoodie. Vibrating against her hip.

Pip’s hand darted into the pocket, fumbled with the phone as she pulled it out and stared down at the screen.

No Caller ID.

Her heart dragged its way back up her spine.

This was him, she knew it.

DT.

And now she had him. Checkmate.

Pip hurried past Nat’s house, the phone still buzzing against her cupped hands. Out of sight of the da Silvas’ house, she held it up and pressed the side button twice, to redirect the incoming call to CallTrapper.

The phone went dark.

One step.

Two.

Three.

The screen lit up again with an incoming call. Only this time, it didn’t say No Caller ID. A mobile number scrolled across the top of her screen, unmasked. A number Pip didn’t recognize, but that didn’t matter. It was a direct link to DT. To Daniel da Silva. Concrete evidence. Game over.