“Where’s Jeremy now?”

Dr. Rossi swallows. “Heart attack, three years ago.”

I nod, feel Dr. Rossi twitch beside me.

“And now Megan’s dead you never thought about going to the police with any of this?” I don’t bother keeping the anger out of my voice.

“I thought about it, of course I did, but we kept our secret for so long. We both had so much to protect, and now that Jeremy’s dead I couldn’t do it to his widow, his kids. I can’t destroy their memories of him.”

“I don’t think you’re trying to protect anyone other than yourself.” I sound bitter, angry. She turns to me then; her face is flushed but her eyes are hard.

“Oh come on, Jon, you of all people know the extremes we’re capable of when people we love are threatened.” She must have read up on me, knows about the photo of Jakey, the whisky and the golf club. She knows I have no right, taking the moral high ground.

“Look, what are you going to do now, with all of this—with everything I’ve told you?” she asks.

“I don’t know. Not yet. I’ve done a fair bit of asking around, but no one’s ever mentioned Megan’s toxicology being anything other than normal.”

Dr. Rossi raises her eyebrows.

“You’re surprised,” I say, as a fact.

She nods. “I never thought she’d get off the drugs, not the amount she’d taken over the years.”

We fall into a heavy silence.

I turn to Dr. Rossi. “What are the main side effects of OxyContin?”

“Well, short term, besides numbing pain it can cause vomiting, stomach pain, headaches, that kind of thing.”

“And what if someone takes an overdose?”

“Then things get more serious: respiratory problems, swelling of the face, throat, tongue, cardiac arrhythmia, seizures . . . all sorts of nasty stuff.”

Something starts buzzing in my chest. I don’t recognize it at first, it’s been so long since I felt it, but eventually I know. It’s the feeling of making a discovery, of flipping a slanted world and finding it makes more sense upside down than what you thought was the right way up. I can’t move, can barely breathe, I’m just staring straight ahead.

“Jon? Jon, what is it?”

I turn the key in the ignition.

“I need to go, I have to go. Right now.”

I leave her outside the office and drive away before she has the chance to question me again.

A few moments later, I pull into a quiet road, let my head drop to my hands. I need peace to order my thoughts, to try to make some sense out of them. Simon would have known Grace’s real name, her real birthdate—why wouldn’t he tell someone? Was Meg blackmailing him too? Or did he have another reason not to tell the world the truth? There were no drugs found in Meg’s system and no one has ever mentioned her being unwell with any withdrawal-like symptoms. Meg certainly didn’t seem like someone addicted to drugs when I met her and, besides, when would she have found the time to get off them while caring for Grace around the clock? Dr. Rossi mentioned that Simon could have been taking OxyContin too, but when I picture someone suffering from addiction I don’t see Meg and I don’t see Simon. I see someone else completely.