Down Tudor Lane, to the dark waiting shape of Jamie’s car.

The passenger-side door opened and Nat poked her head out.

‘All OK?’ she asked, and the relief in her eyes was evident.

‘Y-yeah, fine,’ Pip said, taken aback. ‘What are you still doing here, Nat? You were supposed to leave straight after, go to your brother’s house to establish an alibi.’

‘I wasn’t going to leave you alone in there with him,’ Nat said firmly. ‘Not until I knew you were safe.’

Pip nodded. She understood. Even though she wouldn’t have been alone – Jamie and Connor were right here – she understood.

‘All good?’ Connor asked her from the back seat.

‘Yeah, he’s out,’ said Pip.

‘Sorry I had to hit him.’ Nat looked up at her. ‘He was trying to push me out and shut the door, and I could still see you there behind him, so I just –’

‘No, that’s fine,’ Pip cut across her. ‘Might actually work out for the better, even.’

‘And it felt good.’ Nat smiled. ‘Wanted to do that for a long time.’

‘But you need to get to your brother’s now,’ Pip said, her voice hardening. ‘Unlikely anyone will believe Max when he says you went over for a chat, but I want you to be as secure as possible.’

‘I’ll be fine,’ Nat replied. ‘Dan will be on his fifth beer already. I’ll tell him it’s 8:45, he won’t know the difference. Kim and the baby are at her mum’s.’

‘OK.’ Pip shifted her focus to Jamie behind the steering wheel. She leaned across Nat to hand him Max’s bagged-up phone. Jamie took it and gave her a small nod, placing it down on his lap. ‘I’ve put it on silent already,’ she said. ‘Battery looks good.’

Jamie nodded again. ‘I’ve plugged the location into the satnav,’ he said, indicating the car’s inbuilt system. ‘Then two right turns to Green Scene Limited. Back roads only.’

‘And your phones are off?’ Pip asked.

‘Phones off.’

‘Connor?’ She turned to him.

‘Yes,’ he said, eyes glowing from the dark back seat. ‘Turned it off back at home. We won’t turn them back on again, not until we’re clear.’

‘Good.’ Pip exhaled. ‘So, when you get there, you’ll see that the gate is open. Do not go inside, you understand? You must not go inside. Promise me.’

‘No, we won’t,’ Connor said. A small glance between the brothers.

‘Promise,’ Jamie added.

‘Don’t even look through the gate, just pull up outside, off the road,’ Pip said. ‘Leave Max’s phone in the bag, don’t touch it whatever you do. There’s some rocks, big rocks, on the grass, lining the small drive up to the gate. Leave the phone in the bag behind the first big rock. Just put the bag there and leave.’

‘Pip, we’ve got it,’ Jamie said.

‘Sorry, I just... It can’t go wrong. Not one part can go wrong.’

‘It won’t,’ Jamie said softly, kindly, calming her spiking nerves. ‘We’ve got you.’

‘Have you worked out where you’re going after?’ she asked.

‘Yes,’ Connor said, leaning forward, into the yellow glow of the light by the rear-view mirror. ‘There’s this late-night Marvel film festival thing at one of the cinemas in Wycombe. We’ll go there. Turn our phones on when we get to the car park. Make a couple of calls and texts while we’re there. Cameras everywhere. We’ll be fine.’

‘OK.’ Pip nodded. ‘Good, yeah, that’s a good idea, Connor.’

He smiled weakly at her, and she could tell he was scared. Scared because he could tell that something terrible had happened, and he’d never know what he’d been a part of. Though they could guess, they’d probably guess when the news got out. But as long as it was never said out loud, as long as they didn’t truly know, beyond any doubt. Connor didn’t need to be scared; if anything went wrong, Pip would bring it all down on her. The rest of them would be safe. They were just at a late-night cinema showing; they knew nothing. She tried to tell him all of that with her eyes.

‘And you’ll call me, from the burner, once you’re clear of Green Scene?’ Pip said. ‘Drive for at least five minutes and then call me from the burner to tell me Max’s phone is in place.’

‘Yes, yes, we will,’ Connor said, waving the burner phone she’d given them.

‘OK, I think we’re all set.’ Pip stepped back from the car.

‘We’ll drop Nat at her brother’s and then we’ll go straight there,’ Jamie said, starting the car, the engine cutting through the quiet night.

‘Good luck,’ Nat said, holding Pip’s eyes for a lingering second before she closed the door.

Headlights on and Pip shielded her eyes from the glare as she backed up, watching them drive away. But only for a moment. She didn’t have time to dwell or time to doubt, or time to wonder if she was dragging everyone she cared about down with her. Time wasn’t something she had.

She hurried back up the pavement, up the front path to the Hastings house. She tried two keys before she found the one that unlocked the front door, pushing it open quietly. Max was passed out, but she didn’t want to push her luck.

She left the car keys on the floor of the hall, near her rucksack, so she wouldn’t forget them on her way out. Her mind was scattering, pushed out of place by Jamie’s kindness and Nat’s concern and Connor’s fear, but she needed to focus again. The plan was working and it pulled up a new list in her mind now. The list she and Ravi had worked out of everything she needed to take from Max’s house.

Three things.

Pip headed up the staircase, rounding the corner into the hallway upstairs and across into Max’s bedroom. Pip knew which one it was. She’d been here before, back when she first found out Andie Bell had been selling drugs. It didn’t look any different: the same maroon bedspread, the same piles of discarded clothes.

She also knew that behind that Reservoir Dogs poster, pinned up on the noticeboard, was a photo of Andie Bell. A topless photo Andie had left in Elliot Ward’s classroom, that Max had found and kept all this time.

It made Pip feel sick, knowing it was there, and part of her wanted to rip the hidden photo down, carry Andie safely home with her along with her ghost. Andie had suffered enough at the hands of violent men. But she couldn’t do that. Max couldn’t know anyone had been here.

Pip turned her attention to the white wash basket, overflowing, its lid balanced precariously on top. She pushed off the lid and rummaged through Max’s dirty washing, glad for the gloves covering her hands. About halfway down she found something that would do. A dark grey hoodie with a zip, creased and crinkled. Pip chucked it out, on to Max’s bed, then repacked the too-full wash basket the same way she’d found it.

Next, she headed towards his built-in wardrobe. Shoes. She needed a pair of his shoes. Preferably ones with a unique tread pattern. Pip opened the doors and stared inside, eyes falling to the very bottom and the chaotic jumble of shoes that greeted her there. She bent down and reached in towards the back. If the shoes were at the back, that likely meant Max didn’t wear them as often. Pip discounted one pair of dark running shoes; their soles rubbed flat and smooth with age. She found another nearby, a white trainer, and turned it over, her eyes following the hectic zigzagged lines of its soles. Yes, that would make for some good tracks, and these weren’t the shoes he used on his daily runs. She fished through the pile of mismatched shoes, searching for the trainer’s pair, pulling it out from a tangle of laces.