He stares at them, then says, “No. What are they?”

“I found them on an old camera. I think Mom took them.”

Dad’s eyes go wide, and I wonder if I’ve said too much or if he realizes what box they are from.

It’s been a long time since my father got his hopes up, and I don’t want to break his heart all over again with “evidence” that turns out to be useless.

“Do you recognize them?” I ask.

“I’m sorry, Jess. I’m not even sure what I’m looking at.”

But he looks anyway, staring into the mess of colors, because he’s as desperate for this to be over as I am.

If it was Mom’s camera, if she took these the day she died, it could be vital.

“It’s okay,” I say.

Back in my room, I stare at the blurred images, all reds and yellows and greens. They could be anything. I click through, from the grainiest to the clearest, over and over again, trying to figure out what it is I’m looking at. And then I focus on the image of someone I can’t identify, who is covering his face with a Polaroid camera.

Could it be him? Could this be a picture of the Magpie Man? We now know he took pictures of the women he murdered. He collected his kills. But is there more?

I try to slow my breathing, pushing my fingers against my temples to calm the headache that has come hard and fast.

I could call the police, but what would I tell them? I don’t even know what four of the photos are, and I can’t risk Lorraine taking them and putting them with everything else they never found a use for.

I could call him out. I could show the world these images and hope it’s enough. But you can’t see his features. All you can see are blurred lines and a hidden face, just hands and a camera.

Chapter 119

Again, like every week now, I’m awake hours before Danny arrives. The more I don’t tell him, the angrier he’ll be when he finally finds out.

I’m supposed to film every defining moment, but there was no way I was going to stick a camera in Clara’s face. Whatever she knows, she won’t tell me, let alone the whole world.

When I get to school, Mrs. Bradley is at the entrance, ready to do the late list, and she gives me a look but doesn’t say anything. If she thinks my nan lied for me, she keeps quiet, although she’s obviously suspicious. I smile at her and walk past without stopping.

You can tell Emily wants to talk about Mr. Humphries again, but one look at Danny and she realizes she has to keep her mouth shut.