‘Are you okay?’ he says, moving to the wall and beckoning me to follow. For some reason I trust this man and without thinking I tell him everything that happened, everything that led to me being stripped of my identity. Barry listens without interference offering his help if I need it. When we’re finished talking, I walk away feeling better. But Something is niggling at me. Something Detective Turner said. I take out my phone and call her.

‘Detective Turner. I need to see you.’

She’s sitting waiting on me when I arrive, her stiff dark eyed stare displaying unrelenting confidence.

‘You wanted to see me,’ she says.

‘Yes, I wanted to ask you about the DNA sample you mentioned when we last spoke. I have no recollection of giving you any sample?’

Turner stretches her back into the chair.

‘Well, Becca, we didn’t ask you for a sample, we got Dr. Josie Reilly to do that.’

What? I can’t believe what she is saying.

‘Was the whole clinical trial thing a set up then?’ I say.

‘Oh no, that was real, we just asked her to invite you on board.’

I feel my heart thumping in my chest but not in a nervous way. It’s anger. How was I played like a fool?

‘Don’t feel bad, Rebecca, we had to do what we had to do.’

‘But you’re no closer, are you?’

‘No closer to what?’

‘To finding the killer. I guess you know by now it isn’t me but you don’t know who it is, do you?’

‘We have our suspects, and yes, you are no longer one of them, but I still need you to answer my questions.’

What the hell is she going to ask me now? I was the one who came to see her.

‘Did you ever find the note? This time, before you answer, remember we will find the killer and if we find out you lied to us, you will be charged.’

The bitch thinks she’s scaring me, she’s not. After what I’ve been through, it would take a lot more than her threats to scare me.

‘No.’

‘Did you ask your brother Danny about it?’

‘Yes, he didn’t see it.’

‘Your father, Nicholas Wall, did you ask him?’

‘Yes, he didn’t see it.’

‘Have you seen either of them using a phone that wasn’t their usual one?’

‘No.’

I’m sitting here listening to this woman ask the same questions and expect a different answer. This woman who insisted I produce an alibi for the night of Katie’s murder.

‘Did you need the alibi? Or did you know at that point it wasn’t me?’

She puffs air out of her mouth while placing both her two hands on the table. ‘Rebecca, we had to keep the pressure on you. See what you would tell us.’