‘Tobey, there would’ve been blood spatter from the neck wound. It would’ve been on the assailant’s hand and sleeve at the very least. I’ve defended and prosecuted enough knife-crime trials to know what I’m talking about. Mum doesn’t even have a drop of blood on her. I think she came in, saw Dan slumped over his desk with a knife in his back and – for whatever inexplicable reason – removed it and then replaced it. And, what’s more, that’s a case I could win in court. There’s enough doubt to guarantee Mum wouldn’t be convicted.’

I watched the footage yet again. Callie was right.

‘Why are you so determined to believe that Mum killed Dan?’ Callie asked, genuinely hurt.

‘I’m not. Hellsake! Everything I’ve done since I discovered the recording and the murder weapon has been to protect your mum, not drop her in it.’

Callie smiled, her gaze softening as she looked at me. She believed me – thank God.

‘And you’re right,’ I said. ‘There’s no blood anywhere on her, including her hand. I saw your mum stab Dan in the back and thought—’ I trailed off.

Callie nodded reluctantly. ‘Understandable. And your first instinct was to protect her so thank you for that,’ she said.

‘Callie, I’m sorry if I jumped to conclusions about Sephy.’

‘If?’

‘Scratch the “if”,’ I said. ‘Forgive me?’

‘Find my brother and bring him home safe and well and I’ll forgive you anything,’ she replied.

And the way she said it … More incentive, if any were needed, to bring Libby and Troy home. ‘Fair enough. Let’s go get our loved ones back.’

Just as we stood up, a ping came from Callie’s jacket pocket. A text alert by the sound of it. She took out her phone and glanced at it. I headed for the door to give her some privacy, only to stop after a step or two when I heard her gasp. I turned.

Eyes narrowed, Callie was frowning at me.

‘What now?’

‘May I see your chest, please?’ she asked.

‘Excuse me?’

Callie raised an eyebrow – and then I knew what this was about. Pulling my T-shirt out of my trousers, I rolled it up to my neck. I was doing that a lot today.

‘Oh. My. God! It’s true!’ she breathed.

The day after Callie discovered my tattoo, I’d had it taken care of. I went to see Feenix, a Cross tattoo artist of repute who had been recommended to me. I’d promised to pay her five times her usual fee if she didn’t balls up the end result. After she’d signed a non-disclosure agreement, I showed her my chest and explained what I wanted done. A true professional, Feenix hadn’t commented on my original tattoo. She’d just got down to business, listing the pros and cons of my proposed replacement.