‘Detectives for someone who died of exposure?’ said Erin, thinking aloud, realising something was wrong, and giving Michael a worried look. Sofia’s smile in reply was a thin line. She’d seeded what she wanted.

‘If you don’t want to stay, we can go somewhere else,’ our mother said. ‘We wanted it to be up to you.’

‘You’ve got nothing to worry about,’ Marcelo said. ‘In my experience, being in prison is a pretty good alibi. Besides, the officer here, he’s not what we’d call experienced. The body’s got him rattled. So he’s waiting on his superiors. They’ll come, they’ll be here five minutes, and then they’ll all be out of here.’

‘And the accommodation is—’ Katherine started, and I knew she was one breath away from the word ‘non-refundable’.

‘Crawford’s his name,’ I cut in.

‘Crawford. Sure,’ Katherine said, with the implication that it didn’t matter. ‘He doesn’t have the chip on his shoulder that the city cops do. Seems the name Cunningham doesn’t travel like it used to.’

‘And as for police presence,’ Lucy jumped on the reassurances because she clearly thought, if we did disband, she was a hundred dollars and a motel room away from losing Michael for good, ‘there pretty much is none. He’s not asking questions. We’ve barely seen him around.’

‘This cop that’s supposedly not doing anything,’ Michael said. ‘Is that him?’ He pointed to the steps of the guesthouse, which Officer Crawford was currently hurrying down. He steamed over to us, sought our faces for the new arrival. Spotted my brother.

‘Michael Cunningham?’

Michael raised his hands in jest and said, ‘Guilty.’

‘Glad we agree. You’re under arrest.’

CHAPTER 14

Katherine was right: the name Cunningham didn’t travel like it used to. If it had, Officer Crawford may have better considered his personal safety before striding into a circle of us.

‘What do you think you’re doing?’ Lucy was first to erupt. She barged in front of Michael, forming a physical barrier.

‘There’s been a misunderstanding,’ Katherine said, firming up the defence beside Lucy and dragging a reluctant Andy with her.

‘Everyone just chill out,’ Andy said, faking a small shaky laugh. He was a married-in Cunningham, remember, so he still held the usual law-abiding citizen’s reverence for police.

‘Get out of the way.’ Crawford had handcuffs dangling from his left hand like a lazy whip, I noticed.

‘Can’t you just leave our’—this was my mother, not sprightly enough to be part of the blockade but the venom in her words was enough of a shield—‘fucking family alone?’

I suddenly believed every news article I’d read about mothers lifting cars to save children. Well, the ones they liked anyway.