Once I was ready for bed, as a treat, Mum asked me to log into our Meg and Grace Facebook page, to post a thank-you for all the nice things people have said online. Over three thousand people have subscribed to our page and Mum says they’ve been really supportive. It’s how she does a lot of our fundraising.

Home at last! Thank all you lovely people for your help. It means the world to us both during this really tough time. Biggest thank-you of all to my mum, who is always by my side. Merry Christmas, everyone!

I added I love you, Mum at the end without her even asking. I knew she’d like that.

The phone started ringing then. Neither of us said anything. It’s better to pretend it’s not happening. But he wouldn’t stop ringing and ringing, and Mum shouted at the phone to leave us alone and I hated him even more for making her upset when she had been so happy.

“I think I’ll sleep in your room tonight, Gracie.”

I heard her checking the locks before she dragged the roll-up mattress into my room. We both know who keeps calling. But neither of us dares say his name. That’s the biggest secret of them all.

Lots of love, Grace xxx

12

Jon

The last time I was in Ashford police station was after I was arrested on Meg’s lawn. The police had to yank the golf club from my hand. The station smells familiar, institutional, like a hospital or a school, of bleach and sand on vomit. I think only fleetingly about telling Upton about Grace’s real name and birthdate, about GoodSam, but I’m too wired to think through what the implications could be for withholding information—besides, they might know already, and I don’t want to give Ruth any more ammo, any reason to keep me away from Jakey. So I won’t risk it, not now.

Upton leads me into a gray, windowless interview room. The metal table is pushed up tight against a wall; it’s bolted, as are the four chairs, to the floor. There are microphones in every corner of the room and the beady eye of a camera at each end. There’s another door in the far corner. Upton sits down on one of the chairs and points to the chair opposite. “Please.”

I sit, dutifully. I’d anticipated a briefing, but from the way Upton is leaning forward across the table, the way she glances at her hands clasped in front of her, I have the feeling she’s about to tell me something big. She takes a deep breath before she starts to talk.

“My colleagues are preparing to speak to the press right now, but I wanted you to hear from me. The body of a young woman was recovered this morning, at the Point.”

I feel myself wince but she keeps her gaze steady and professional.

“You didn’t know?”

I shake my head. I’d only heard about the dress, not a body. I remember all those missed calls from Cara.