“What if he can’t help?”

Upton looks away. She can’t answer me so instead she says, “Thanks for coming in at such short notice, Jon.”

We shake hands and I’m relieved. I want to get out of here, need to get out of here, now. The bleach feels like it’s coating the back of my throat, makes me want to gag. I need to breathe, to think.

It’s pouring with rain as I drive away from the station. I haven’t slept in thirty-six hours but I don’t want to go back to the flat, I need some space. The closest beach to the police station is about five miles away. Ruth once told me the locals call it Goat Beach. Granted, it’s no beauty spot—it’s overlooked by an industrial center and the pebbles are always covered in drink cans and used condoms—but at least it won’t be busy. The rain has darkened the day, the lights are already on outside the boxy buildings, lighting up the back of the beach. I trip over the pebbles and slide over a couple of tendrils of seaweed that lie slick like long, wet hair. I’ve never seen another person down here so, for me, it’s perfect. My phone vibrates in my pocket but I ignore it. I need to shake off the connection with Simon, make sure his madness hasn’t rubbed off on me. I open my body to the wind, like Ruth does, and let it creep under my T-shirt and down my back, let the air freshen and cool. I let myself shout out to the sea, before I feel self-conscious and lie back on the pebbles to look up at the sky. My phone vibrates again. I toy with not answering it, but then I think it could be Jakey so I look at the screen.

It’s Cara. I want to be alone but I also feel an urge to answer. I want to tell her about my conversation with Simon.

“Cara.”

“Where the fuck have you been?” She’s out of breath, she sounds like she’s been running.

“Long story. I only just heard the police found a body, but—”

“I know, it’s not Grace.” She cuts me off. I thought she’d sound relieved, but she only sounds tense.

“What’s wrong, Cara?”

“I can’t tell you over the phone. Where are you?”

“You know Goat Beach?”

“That shitty little spot near the industrial estate?”

“Yeah.”

“I’ll be there in ten minutes.”

I wait for Cara at the top of the beach, next to an abandoned pram. She’s wearing a red raincoat, her arms wrapped around her chest like a straitjacket. As she gets closer I see she’s shaking and there’s mud between her toes, but her eyes are wired, full of stars, and for a moment I think she’s taken something. But as soon as she starts talking I know she’s sober.

“I saw her.”

“Cara, you’re shaking. Here, take this.”

She watches as I take off my sweater and hand it to her, pauses before taking it.