Her dad, who rarely shouted, had shouted. For hours. This was, apparently, the worst thing she’d ever done to him.

‘I think they need me, to find the killer for them, and you’re saying a week of getting drunk is more important than that?’

A glare in answer.

‘If I miss any work, I’ll catch up. I always do. Please trust me. I need you to trust me.’

Just as Ravi had trusted her, and she couldn’t leave town without knowing they’d done it. No mercy, no holding back, this was the final fight. Pip had given the police everything: she’d placed Max at the scene during the time-of-death window using the mobile phone tower, she’d left Max’s hair at the scene, his shoeprints, traffic-cam footage of his car driving away after burning it down, blood on the sleeve of his hoodie at his house, and in the mud caked under his shoes. Maybe they hadn’t found all that yet, but she was about to give them something else too: episode 1. Tie the narrative all together, the motive. The background of this town, what happened to Andie, to Becca. Bad blood between two men, an altercation confirmed by witnesses, a hint at wounded pride, at a fight that maybe went too far. CCTV cameras at this individual’s home that would surely back him up if he had nothing to hide. The interview with Jackie had already gone some way, but Pip had to take it one step further.

The worst they could do was tell her to take it down, tell her to stop interfering, but the damage would already be done, the seed planted. She couldn’t name the suspect and she wouldn’t have to; Hawkins would know who she was talking about and this was just for him. He was the only listener who mattered. Build the case against Max for him, so he never tried to build one against her.

A Good Girl’s Guide to Murder: Who Killed Jason Bell?

Season 3 Episode 1 successfully uploaded to SoundCloud.

Another game, another race, between her heart and the pounding of her trainers, pattering out of time. Pip filled herself with the sound, just one foot in front of the other, to take herself out of her head. Maybe, if she ran fast enough, she might even sleep tonight. She was supposed to have been in a new bed tonight, in a new city, but Little Kilton wouldn’t let her go just yet.

She shouldn’t have been looking down at her feet, she should have been watching where she was going. She hadn’t thought about it, hadn’t needed to think; it was just one of her regular routes, her circuit. One road flowing on to another, and her mindlessly following.

It wasn’t until she heard the commotion of voices and vehicles that she glanced up and realized where she was running to. Tudor Lane, about halfway up, on the way to the Hastings house.

The house was just there, but there was something new that didn’t belong, catching her eye. Parked outside the house, jutting out on to the road, were three police cars and two marked vans, bright grids of yellow and blue along their sides.

Pip kept going, her eyes dragging her closer and closer, until she could see a gathering of people moving in and out of the front door. Dressed in white plastic suits that covered the bottoms of their feet to the tops of their heads. Masks across their faces and blue latex gloves for hands. One carrying a large brown paper bag out of the house and into the waiting van, followed by another.

A forensic team.

A forensic team searching Max’s house.

Pip slowed to a stop, her heart winning out against her feet, throwing itself against her ribs as she watched the orderly chaos of the plastic-wrapped people. She wasn’t the only one. Neighbours were standing at the edges of their drives, eyes wide, murmuring behind their hands to each other. A white van was parked on the other side of the street and milling around it were more people, one taking photographs of the scene, another man with a large camera propped on one shoulder, pointing it across the road.

This was it. This was it. She couldn’t smile, she couldn’t cry, she couldn’t let any reaction play out on her face other than faint curiosity, but this was it. The beginning of the end. Her heart beat back that black hole in her chest as she watched.

A uniformed officer in a high-vis yellow jacket was standing beside one of the police cars, talking with two people: a man and a woman. The man was spraying clipped, heated words at the officer, his voice carrying on the wind. It was Max’s parents, back from Italy, huddled together with their deep, expensive tans. Pip searched him out, but Max wasn’t here. Neither was DI Hawkins.

‘Ridiculous,’ Max’s dad barked, pulling his phone out, his movements rough and angry.

‘Mr Hastings, you have already been shown the signed search warrant. It shouldn’t be too much longer. If you could just calm down.’

Mr Hastings spun on his heels, ramming the phone up to his ear. ‘Epps!’ he barked down into it.

The officer was pivoting too, keeping his eye on Mr Hastings. Pip turned before he could see her down the street, her hair whipping out behind her, shoes scraping on the pavement.

The officer might recognize her and she shouldn’t be seen here. Keep herself on the periphery.

She picked up her heels and started running, back the way she’d come. Another game, another race, and she was winning now.

It wouldn’t be long, it couldn’t be. They’d issued a search warrant for the house. They’d comb through it and they’d find that bloodstained hoodie and the trainers with the zigzag soles in Max’s room; maybe Pip had even seen them being carried out, inside two of those large brown bags. If they had a warrant to search the house, it was likely they also had one to take DNA samples from Max, see if he was a match for those blonde hairs found in dead Jason’s hand and in his river of blood. Maybe that’s where Max was right now.

She rounded the corner, her eyes no longer on her feet but on the grey churning sky. The results of the DNA testing could take several days to come through from the lab, verifying the blood on Max’s clothes and the hairs found on Jason’s body. But once they did, Hawkins would have no choice. The evidence was overwhelming. Pieces shifting on a board, players staring out at each other from their own corners.

Pip picked up her pace, faster and harder, and she could feel it, the end, catching up behind her.

From: [email protected] 11:39

To: [email protected]

Subject: some news!

Hi Pippa,

I hope you are keeping well! I see from the episode you just released that you have found the case for your third season, or rather it found you. Such a tragedy, and poor Mr Bell! I really hope you find who did this to him.

I understand totally why this case had to take priority over looking into Billy and the DT Killer case, but I had some news this morning and I thought you would like to know. Apparently, Billy’s case is under review! There is some new evidence that has come to light. I don’t know all the details yet but it sounds like it’s big – new DNA or fingerprint evidence. That’s why everyone is suddenly taking an interest. I wonder if they’ve finally identified the unknown fingerprint that was found on Melissa Denny, the second victim.

These things take time, I’m sure, but a lawyer from the Innocence Project has been in touch with Billy about filing a motion to the CCRC to overturn his conviction. So, it seems as though the police may think they’ve found the real DT Killer, or at least they’ve found enough evidence that Billy’s conviction is no longer ‘safe’ – that’s the terminology, I looked it up.