“That seems to be the most plausible explanation, yes. Don’t forget his mental health has been deteriorating since Danny died, and he’d been violent in the past. Also I think the fact that he’s not come forward to clear his name is pretty damning.”

Cara nods, turns her dark head to stare out of the window, the countryside a blur.

“So, did you tell your mum I was giving you a lift today?”

Cara snorts. “No! She thinks I’m working at the pub. But she’s so wired with everything, she won’t know I didn’t go in.”

Great. Cara lying to her mum will give Susan and her mates another reason to hate me. But I remind myself that Cara’s an adult, she can make her own decisions and, besides, Cara instigated all of this. I haven’t done anything wrong.

“And you? How are you doing ‘with everything,’ I mean? Walking into a murder scene is pretty rough, especially when you know the person.” I glance over at Cara. Her eyes widen, her pale skin blushes, she looks like she’s about to be sick, but she just shrugs.

“I feel better when I’m busy,” she says.

“So, what does your dad reckon about all of this?” There’s been plenty about Susan in the news reports, but nothing about Cara’s dad. Cara glances quickly out of her window before looking straight ahead. She keeps picking the skin around her fingernails.

“I have no idea, he hasn’t been in touch. He lives in Scotland with his new family, they’re kind of hippies—don’t have a telly, that kind of thing—so he probably doesn’t even know what happened.” Cara pauses, before she adds, “He’s nothing like the dads in your article, if that’s what you’re getting at. I don’t have a restraining order against him or anything. He just kind of opted out of being my dad a long time ago.”

Before I can say anything she turns to face me and asks, “What about you? How’s your son?”

I feel her eyes move. I know she notices my jaw tighten. I force a lightness I don’t feel into my voice.

“He’s good, just made the school football team actually, he’s playing—”

“So he doesn’t have cancer anymore?” Cara interrupts. She’s not interested in hearing about Jakey’s football. I let her question hang for a moment. She’s skilled, I’ll give her that: deflecting my questions, turning me into the subject, but nevertheless I don’t like it. She’s looking at me like I owe her something. Perhaps she’s right. What was it Dr. Bunce said that made Ruth snort with laughter? “Honesty demands reciprocity” or something like that. If I want Cara to be honest with me, I need to choose what to give her in return. I want her to trust me. I shift in my seat.

“So you read my article about Grace and Megan?” I say, and out of the corner of my eye I see her watching me.

“Of course: everyone in Cornwall’s read it. I looked it up again last night.”