‘Oh, thank God.’ Siobhan’s relief was so physical that she gripped the side of the clothes rack to steady herself. ‘I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to . . .’

‘It’s fine. You can even keep the money’—I felt Andy nudge me as I said this: Are you sure, man?—‘but Michael’s dead because of what he found. Whatever he dug up . . . someone else is trying to bury it. What you can do for me is help me fill in the blanks. Because whoever knows too much about your daughter seems to be in danger, and that includes me and my family. And now you, I suppose.’

‘Tell us how we can help,’ Edgar said. Siobhan nodded behind him. I could tell she didn’t care about the risk, she just wanted to know about her daughter.

I desperately wanted to ask about the photographs, but knew I should start at the most logical place. ‘How did you meet Michael?’

‘He came to us, actually,’ Edgar said. ‘He had some big story he was spinning and, honestly, it was nothing we hadn’t seen before. For years we tried some private investigators, a few different ones with varying levels of legality, but they all got the same results: useless. We tried offering rewards, too, and, believe me, our phone rang then, so we know a con when we see one.’

‘But we haven’t done that for twenty-eight years,’ Siobhan added. It struck me as a very specific number. ‘Now it’s mostly people who want to make a movie, or a podcast, or write a book.’

Edgar took over from his wife. ‘Michael was different, though. We knew that immediately. He told us some things about a policeman who worked on the original money drop, the one that went wrong. A guy named Alan Holton. Your brother said he knew where Rebecca was buried, and not only that, he had proof of who killed her.’

‘Photographs,’ I whispered, half to myself. Marcelo had thought my father had witnessed a murder, but, I realised now, he’d also recorded it. No wonder someone wanted the photos covered up.

‘Of the murder. That’s what he told us, anyway. He was supposed to bring them. Have you seen them?’

‘Go back a bit. Alan Holton worked on your daughter’s kidnapping?’

Siobhan nodded. ‘There were around fifty police officers. Plus the detective. I don’t mean to be condescending, but this wasn’t just any kidnapping.’

I knew what she meant by that. Rich kids make the news.

‘Did Michael show you the photos?’ Edgar repeated himself, annoyed that I’d skipped his question the first time.