‘Yes.’ He sounded exasperated, like she was the one making this difficult.

‘Which house?’

‘Ah,’ Tom said, scratching his hair, switching the parting to the other side. ‘It was late, I wasn’t looking at the numbers. Didn’t see.’

‘Well, can you describe what the house looked like at all?’ She was gripping the wall now, fingertips grazing against it. ‘What colour was the front door?’

‘Um,’ he looked at her. ‘I think it was white.’

Pip exhaled. She sat back from him, unhooked her fingers and dropped her gaze. Not Nat da Silva’s house, then. Good.

‘Wait,’ Tom said suddenly, eyes settling on her again. ‘Actually no, I don’t think it was white. No, I remember now . . . it was bl-blue. Yeah, blue.’

Pip’s heart reacted immediately, a beating in her ears, quick couplets that almost sounded like: Nat-da Sil-va, Nat-da Silva, Nat-da Sil-va.

She forced her mouth shut, and reopened it again to ask: ‘White-bricked house? Vine on one side?’

Tom nodded, more life in his face now. ‘Yeah, that’s the one. I saw Jamie going into that house.’

‘Did you see anyone else? Who was at the door?’

‘No. Just saw him go in.’

Into Nat da Silva’s house.

That had been the plan after all, for Jamie to go to Nat’s house after the memorial. That’s what he’d told Connor. That’s what Nat had said to Pip. Except she also said he never turned up. That the last time she saw him was when he walked away from her into the crowd to find ‘someone’.

But Tom saw Jamie going into her house at 10:50 p.m. After the calamity party.

So, somebody was lying here.

And who would have reason to?

‘Tom,’ she said. ‘Would you mind if we went over this again, in a recorded interview?’

‘Sure. No problem.’

Twenty-Two

Pip tried not to look. She averted her eyes, but there was something about the house that dragged them right back. It could never be just a normal house, not after everything it had seen. It felt almost otherworldly, as though death clung to the air around it, making it shimmer in a way a house shouldn’t, with its crooked roofline and stippled bricks swallowed by ivy.

The Bells’ house. The place where Andie had died.

And through the window into the living room, Pip could see the back of Jason Bell’s head, the TV flickering at the other end. He must have heard their footsteps on the pavement outside because just then he snapped his head around and stared. He and Pip made eye contact for just a moment, and Jason’s gaze soured when he recognized her. Pip recoiled and dropped her eyes as they carried on, leaving the house behind. But she still felt marked in some way by Jason’s eyes.

‘So,’ Ravi said, unaware; clearly he hadn’t felt the same need to look at the house. ‘You got this idea from someone on Reddit?’ he asked as they walked up the road where it wound up to the church on top of the hill.

‘Yeah, and it’s a good theory,’ Pip said. ‘I should’ve thought of it.’

‘Any other good tips since the ep went out?’

‘Nah,’ she said, the effort of the steep hill breaking up her voice as they wound around a corner and the old church appeared in the distance, nestled among the tree tops. ‘Not unless you count the “I saw Jamie in a McDonalds in Aberdeen” tip. Or the one who saw him in the Louvre in Paris, apparently.’

They crossed the pedestrian bridge over the fast-moving road below, the sound of the cars like a rushing inside her ears.

‘OK,’ she said, as they neared and the churchyard split into two on either side of the building, the wide path separating them. ‘The Redditor thinks the “left” in the note might refer to left-hand side. So let’s check this way.’ She led Ravi off the path and on to the long stretch of grass to the left that wrapped around the hill. Everywhere you looked were flat marble plaques and standing gravestones in wavering rows.

‘What’s the name, Hillary . . . ?’ asked Ravi.

‘Hillary F. Weiseman, died 2006.’ Pip narrowed her eyes, studying the graves, Ravi beside her.

‘So, you think Nat da Silva lied to you?’ he asked between reading names.

‘Don’t know,’ she said. ‘But they can’t both be telling the truth; their accounts totally contradict each other. So either Nat da Silva or Tom Nowak is lying. And I can’t help but think that Nat would have more reason to. Maybe Jamie did go to her house for a bit that night, and she just didn’t want to say so in front of her boyfriend. He seems quite scary.’

‘What’s his name again? Luke?’

‘Eaton, yeah. Or maybe she just didn’t want to tell me she saw Jamie because she doesn’t want to be involved. I didn’t exactly treat her well last time. Or she could be lying because she’s involved somehow. I got this weird feeling when I spoke to them about where they were Friday night, like I wasn’t getting the full story.’

‘But Jamie was seen alive and well on Wyvil Road almost an hour after that. So if he did go to Nat’s, he was fine when he left.’

‘I know,’ she said. ‘So then why lie about it? What is there to hide?’

‘Or Tom could be lying,’ Ravi said, bending down to get a closer look at the faded letters on a plaque.

‘He could be,’ she sighed. ‘But why? And how could he have known that that house belonged to someone who’s . . . well, a person of interest?’

‘You going to talk to Nat again?’

‘Not sure.’ Pip wound down another row of graves. ‘I should, but I’m not sure she’ll talk to me again. She really hates me. And this week is hard enough for her anyway.’

‘I could go?’ Ravi said. ‘Maybe when Max’s trial is over.’

‘Yeah, maybe,’ Pip replied, but the thought that Jamie might still be missing by then made something in her sink. She quickened her pace. ‘We’re going too slowly. Let’s split up.’

‘No but I really really like you.’

And Pip could feel his smirk, even though she wasn’t looking at him.

‘We are in a graveyard. Behave.’

‘They can’t hear,’ he said, ducking from her frown. ‘OK fine, I’ll check this way.’ He traipsed up and over to the far side of the yard, starting at the other end to work back to her.

Pip lost him after a few minutes, behind an unkempt hedgerow, and it was like she was alone. Standing here in this field of names. There was no one else around; it was dead-of-night quiet, even though it was only six o’clock.

She reached the end of another row, no sign of Hillary, when she heard a shout. Ravi’s voice was faint as the wind carried it away from her, but she could see his waving hand above the hedges and hurried over to him.

‘You found it?’ she said, breathless now.

‘In loving memory of Hillary F. Weiseman,’ he read out, standing over a black marble plaque with gold lettering. ‘Died 4th October 2006. Beloved mother and grandmother. You will be missed dearly.’

‘That’s her,’ Pip said, looking around. This part of the graveyard was almost closed in, sheltered by a row of hedges on one side and a cluster of trees on the other. ‘It’s well covered here. You can’t really be seen from any side, apart from the path up there.’