“He threatened me,” I correct.

“I meant,” he clears his throat again, “that you came in without it being at the request of the police.”

“The missing person report appealed for people to come forward. I’m her sister.”

“But you didn’t know anything about her disappearance—or at least that’s what you told the police at the time.”

“Wouldn’t it have looked more weird if her sister never contacted the police at all? Despite it being on TV? What would you have thought if you were the officer in charge of a missing persons case and their family just ignored it like it was nothing?”

“I would go to their house and interview them,” DCI Rosenmeyer says.

“Exactly. Chris pre-empted what you would do. He couldn’t have you anywhere near the house, could he?”

“But… could you not have given one of the officers a sign, some kind of signal that you were being held against your will?”

I take a deep breath and place the palms of my hands on the table in front of me. “Three things, Detective. Number one; Chris is a psychopath. A violent, unpredictable man who can be sweetness and light one moment, and then pinning you by the throat the next. If he had thought for a moment that I was trying to get one over on him, what do you think he would have done? He had told me, at this point in time, that Megan was still alive.

“Number two; I had raised an alarm through my bank. I was half-expecting some kind of special forces squad to suddenly rappel in through the windows of the house at any moment and for this whole sorry mess to be done with. But that didn’t happen, did it? And yes, eventually I realized that you weren’t going to come for me, and that I would have to rescue myself, but I was still hopeful at this point.

“And number three; there was a signal. Jesus Christ. I told the officer all about how Leah would pretend to be me. I couldn’t have been much clearer in what I was implying. Chris beat me with his belt that night, it was so damn obvious. And I was wearing the fucking watch. The one that Tom bought me in Vegas. I had hoped that someone might see it and realize. Stupid, I know, but what else could I do?”

“What’s the significance of the watch?”

“I couldn’t exactly wear a T-shirt that said ‘Hey, I’m Leah, by the way’ could I? But I thought someone might look at the watch and realize it wasn’t Megan’s. It has registration documents with Jaeger-LeCoultre. I figured you’d be looking out for a ten-thousand-dollar watch. For something that Leah had posted about on her social media. Wouldn’t it be an identifying item?

“When I was reported missing, wouldn’t you have at least tried to piece together what I was wearing at the time?” I’m exasperated now, my voice raised.

“All right, let’s calm down a bit, eh?” He shows me both palms.