Joanna walks towards me, calculating her next move, I imagine. How to explain this. I cannot let her have one more moment of control. I must get the note to Turner before she has a chance to take it from me and make up some story, manipulate the situation. Lie. Kill me too.

Turner has to be told Joanna is the one who had the note, the only one who could have made that call. I can’t believe she was letting Danny take the fall for this. Turning on my heels, I head towards the door. Joanna follows me.

‘Becca, Becca,’ she calls out, her voice swelled in panic.

‘Detective Turner,’ I shout, pushing my way towards the door, one hand in the air parading the note. ‘Turner, I have it. I found the note.’

‘Becca, Becca,’ she calls out after me. ‘It’s not what it looks like.’

It is what it looks like. Everything is spinning into control.

Out of the corner of my eye I see Dad standing up, looking at me with a concerned expression. He doesn’t know what’s going on. His whole life, he hasn’t known what was going on.

The door swings open with one push. Left? Right? I don’t know… Go right. Mom always said, ‘If you’re ever lost, Becca, turn right.’ Funny I can think of that now.

‘Turner,’ I call out, officers in uniforms looking bemused as I pass their stations.

‘Can I help you?’ one guy says, standing up. I rush past him, Joanna closing in behind me, the clanking of her high heeled shoes on the tiled floor becoming more rapid. Click-clock, click-clock.

‘Detective Turner,’ I shout again, continuing to hurry as I enter a narrow corridor. Joanna’s pleas ringing in my ear. ‘Wait, Becca… I can explain.’

I’m going to run out of options if she doesn’t appear soon. Where the hell is Turner?

‘Rebecca.’

I hear her voice, her dull, unexcited voice. Turner is standing behind me when I look around.

‘I have it. I have the note.’ I say, holding my hand out. ‘I know who met Katie Collins at Treehill Park.’ Turner’s eyes move to the piece of paper imprisoned in my grip.

Click-clock, click-clock, Joanna is now running down the corridor, away from us.

‘You might want to stop her.’ I say, gasping for breath while pointing in Joanna’s direction. But before my words have an impact, Joanna is apprehended by a man in uniform as she tries to escape.

With the evidence safely in Turner’s possession, I walk down the corridor. I have no job, no place of my own. Maybe it’s time to make a fresh start. Move away from here and own my new identity. New Orleans is nice. I open the door to where the only other person deceived by this lifelong pretense waits outside. Will I call him Dad? Probably.

Chapter Sixty-Four

Four Weeks Earlier