That rattled me a little. Surely Marcelo had checked Michael’s bank accounts? How did nobody in a murder trial notice such a large amount? Even if Michael had taken it out incrementally, it would have been obvious. I didn’t know the specifics of legal discovery. I made a mental note to read more legal thrillers.

‘I don’t know what you’re implying, but I got Michael the best deal I could, using what I had to do so. That’s my job.’

‘You’ll bend the rules for Michael but not Sofia.’ I remembered he was choosing not to act as his daughter’s lawyer on her malpractice suit.

‘That’s . . .’ He bristled. There was a rustle of clothes as he sat upright. ‘That’s not entirely true. Believe it or not, I’m doing what’s best for her.’

‘Then what is the truth, Marcelo?’ I raised my voice, opening my eyes to put him on the spot. I was aware that they were likely bloodshot, intense, half-drowned. Marcelo glanced towards the corridor. I caught this, interpreting his worry that we’d be interrupted as meaning he still felt he needed me alone. Getting worked up was hurting my hand, but it was stressing Marcelo, so I kept it up. ‘It can’t be a coincidence that the truck went renegade down the hill after I’d spoken to Michael and I’d started looking at this morning’s victim more closely. The truck’s handbrake was off. Erin thought there was brake fluid. That has to be deliberate. Someone just tried to cover up something they hoped was buried thirty-five years ago, something that Alan and Michael have brought to the surface. Dad was looking for a smoking gun before he died, and we know Alan sold Michael information about something—’

‘All right, all right.’ Marcelo hushed me through gritted teeth. His eyes darted to the door again. ‘All I know is he was supposed to meet his handler that night, to give her something important. I think Robert witnessed a murder.’

There it was.

‘A child,’ I said, matter-of-fact.

He blanched, sturgeon-fish-stunned. ‘How’d you know that?’

‘Hunch.’