I’m shaken from my thoughts by my phone buzzing in my pocket. I’ve missed three calls and have a text message, all from Cara.

Call me.

She’ll want to talk about Simon’s arrest, maybe seek reassurance that his arrest means we’re about to find Grace, or Zoe. But I can’t offer her any until I speak to Dave and find out more. Why is Cara different from everyone else in Summervale? I can see her vulnerability, the way she looks at me like I’m a baffling but longed-for rescuer. She’s smart, and her instincts are sharp. I wasn’t lying when I said she’d make a good journalist. She grew up next to Grace, she saw more than anyone. I think we both know that Grace is Zoe, and that this is the first of many secrets. I think she wants to find out the others as much as I do.

I stand up from the curb, slow and weary. My joints creak like they need a good oiling; the last few days feel like a decade in my bones. Not knowing where to go, I walk slowly back to my car. I’ll go home, that’s what I’ll do, I’ll go home and see if Dave wants a pint this evening. I glance at Dr. Bunce’s house, resist the urge to wave as her curtains twitch. The sun is high now, but on the horizon there are dark, angry clouds gathering in the west, towards the Point.

On the drive, my head is thick with exhaustion. I need some rest before I can think clearly about Ruth, about Grace, Zoe, about any of it. I’ll read the diary again once I’ve had some sleep.

I’m waiting at a red light, straining to not let my eyes close, when my phone starts ringing. I glance at it, expecting to see Cara’s name on the screen. But it’s not Cara. It’s a withheld number, which always means one of two things: it’s either a trash call or it’s important.

“Hello?”

“Mr. Katrin?” The woman’s voice is clear, the voice of someone who has been expertly trained.

“Speaking,” I say, trying to match her professionalism.

“Mr. Katrin, my name is DCI Upton, I’m calling from Ashford police station.”

“OK. Can you hold the line for a moment please?” The lights have turned green. I need to get off the road to concentrate. The car behind beeps as I pull up at the side of the road, forgetting to signal. I turn the engine off and say, “Thank you for waiting.”

But Upton doesn’t respond, she’s not calling to be thanked.

“Mr. Katrin, you might be aware that I’m leading the investigation into the murder of Megan Nichols and also into the disappearance of her daughter, Grace.” She pauses.

“Yes, I’ve seen you on television.” I cringe as soon as the words are out of my mouth.

“Right. Well, you might have seen we arrested Simon Davis today.”

“I just heard on the radio. Where was—”