The buzzing in my head is soon replaced with the muffle of voices, one or two at first, but soon everyone is expressing their shock, their disbelief. Why is Danny Wall being arrested? Did he kill that poor girl? My ears close to their chorus, my eyes still fixed on Danny’s black funeral suit in the distance, watching as Turner’s hand pushes his head down into the back seat of the car.

A ghostly figure moves towards me. Dad, his face, whiter than before, black rings circling his eyes.

‘What’s going on?’ he says in a hushed voice. Does he think no one else noticed? That he might be able to hide this too? I can’t look him in the eye, can’t tell him what he wants to know. ‘Why are they arresting Danny?’ he says.

Choosing to move past him, I walk down the pathway, not knowing where I’m going or what I’m doing. A hundred eyes burn into my back as Jeff arrives at my side to clutch my arm.

‘Are you okay?’ he says.

Holding on to his arm, his strength, the only life jacket on my leaking boat, I keep my head down and walk past Joanna, who is sobbing into the arms of some unfamiliar woman. She turns to look at me but I ignore her as she calls out, ‘Why have they taken Danny away, Becca? Becca?’

The name echoes through the air, floating amongst the dead where it belongs.

I need to get away from here, away from this memorial circus.

We’re outside the cemetery when the two cop cars pass by, Turner’s satisfied face turning to look at me from the side window. It’s the first time I’ve seen anything other than a grim expression on that face. She thinks her job is done, that she has her man. But I think she’s wrong. It doesn’t feel right. Something doesn’t add up.

That can mean only one thing. One sad, bad thing. My father knew about the abduction. It was my one last vestige of hope, the straw I was clutching, wishing he too had been taken in by Nancy Wall’s performance. But now I realize my life has been spent on the stage with three, not two, brilliant actors. Oscar performances all around.

‘I need to go down to the precinct,’ I say, when I finally manage to speak.

‘Okay. Have you got the cell with you?’

‘Yes.’