Driving home in the darkness the black cell phone cripples my mind. It’s as if I’ve found the murder weapon. I know I should bring it to Turner, but I want to see what I can find out myself first, and I want to be sure it’s the phone that made the fateful call to Katie Collins. If it is, it means Danny or Dad arranged to meet her in Treehill Park that night. The night she was killed.

Jeff rushes to meet me when I come through the door. Taking the box from my hands, he sets it down on the coffee table.

‘What is it?’ he says. Flopping down on the couch, I watch his face while taking the cell phone from my pocket.

‘This.’

‘A cell phone?’ he says, looking disappointed. Then he realizes what the cell phone represents. ‘You mean…’

‘Yes.’

‘Christ, Becca, what are you doing with it?’

‘It was found in Mom’s room, at the back of her bedside locker, when they were cleaning it out.’

‘Take it to the cops, Becca.’ Stomping away from me, he says, ‘You know what this means, this is too fucking serious, you’ve got to protect yourself.’

‘Do you have a charger that fits this?’ I say, walking towards the kitchen cupboards.

‘Becca, don’t you hear what I’m saying to you? You can’t play games. You need to do the right thing.’

Anger starts to boil up inside me. This is my life, Louise Johnson’s life. Doing the right thing was for Becca, for the pushover. I’m taking charge now.

‘I’m going to find out if this is the cell that contacted Katie Collins and if so, who sent the text.’

Jeff places his hand on my arm.

‘Don’t touch me.’ I shout, pulling away from him.

‘But Becca…’

‘And stop calling me Becca!’

Everything stops. With his mouth open, Jeff stands frozen to the spot. In my hand the cell sits like a grenade ready to be dropped into the dugout where I’m hiding. Hiding from the truth. My mother is not my mother, my father is not my father, Danny is not my brother. One of them is a killer. My sister is dead. Becca Wall is dead. All this and more, and Jeff wants me to go to the cops.

After a moment of silence, I look up at him.

‘I will go to the cops, Jeff, but give me a day, just a day. Turner won’t know how long I’ve had the phone, and with the funeral and everything… Please Jeff, I promise I’ll go then. Just one day.’

He turns to look directly into my eyes.

‘I think you’re mad,’ he says. ‘Completely mad.’

‘I don’t doubt it.’

‘So how are you going to find out who sent the text?’