I take both his hands and squeeze them between my own. ‘It’ll be okay,’ I tell him, and as he keeps watching me I feel the weight of what he’s expecting – that somehow I can make this better.

Suddenly a key turns in the lock and the front door swings open. Her perfume wafts in before she does. The familiar scent of Poison that always catches in my throat.

Olivia steps inside and slams the door shut, her eyes flicking between me and Dad and then trailing down to our clasped hands. ‘What’s happened?’ she says, dropping her handbag and grasping my dad’s elbow. She twists him to face her in a practised manoeuvre that leaves us automatically letting go of each other. She’s got him again.

‘What’s going on, David?’ she demands.

Olivia and I both watch in horror as a tear escapes the corner of his eye and rolls down his cheek.

‘Will one of you tell me what the hell’s going on?’ she demands, turning to me.

‘I just came to speak to my dad.’

‘David, why don’t you go and get yourself dressed.’ He nods and obligingly makes his way up the stairs. Olivia continues to glare.

‘I needed to talk to him.’

‘You’re worse than the police,’ she hisses. ‘Hounding him.’

‘His son’s in prison,’ I cry. ‘Having confessed to murder. I need to know what Dad knows.’

‘I have doctors and solicitors working for your father,’ she says flatly. ‘Clearly he isn’t in a state to get hauled into their stations and sit there for hours being asked about something that happened twenty-five bloody years ago. He can’t remember my name some days,’ she adds, slapping a hand against her chest.

‘But he does remember the past,’ I say. ‘And you know that.’

Back in the car I slam my palms hard against the steering wheel, accidentally hitting the horn, which makes an old lady stop and look at me. I ignore her as I fling my head against the headrest and close my eyes. My teeth are gritted so tightly my jaw aches.

As I reach into my pockets for my phone, my hand brushes against the piece of paper that is still inside. I pull it out, unfolding it.

STOP DIGGING. YOU WON’T LIKE WHAT YOU FIND.

The warning doesn’t make sense. If someone knew my brother had killed Iona, then why would they want to keep it a secret? Why warn me off and not go straight to the police?

I glance up, looking out of the front windscreen. Unless there’s something else they don’t want me finding out.

Chapter Twenty-Two