‘Right. Now you better get off this phone. And get rid of it – they can check to see what calls you made. Get rid of it now and ring the police. You’ve left it too long already, that’s gonna look dead suspicious.’

I wondered afterwards why I had listened to Jenna, who had after all failed to steer me right in the rest of my life choices. But she was my mother, and I was little more than a child, and I had just killed a man. I would have done whatever I was told, in that moment. Still holding the baby, I ran out into the back yard, the grass prickling against my bare feet, and threw my mobile phone deep into the canyon behind the house. After a few seconds, I heard a faint crack. I was lucky the police had never found it – though, really, what was lucky about ending up on Death Row?

Then I went back inside and, stepping over David’s body, part of me terrified he would rear up and grab my ankle, horror-movie style, I picked up the cordless landline. I called the police from the hall cupboard, and I didn’t need to fake the shake in my voice.

‘They’re d-dead. The family I work for. I just came back and – I think they’re dead.’

This same recording would be played over and over in court, on true-crime podcasts, on documentaries. Looking for evidence. Any tell-tale sign that I was a liar, a murderer.

The truth is, there are no signs, not always. Sometimes you can make yourself believe the lie, and I think I did, once I closed the cupboard door behind me. It was about ten minutes before the police arrived, entering the house, calling my name.

‘In here!’ I shouted, muffled. I stood up, smoothed my hair down with my free hand. Carson had looked around at the sound of the voices. He would need a change and feed soon. I’d used those ten minutes of waiting to prepare, as if for an audition. Jenna’s lessons at last coming in handy. How I’d open the door. How I would cry, and maybe collapse into their arms. Oh thank God. The words I would say. I took the baby for a walk and when I came back they were dead. I had not seen Madison dead, something I’d always be thankful for, so I would say I didn’t know where she was, that I would have searched but I was scared, so scared, and I’d seen David and Abby dead, and heard a noise and been so frightened I went into the cupboard. The baby, Officer. I had to protect the baby.

A rap on the door, a loud man’s voice.

‘Ma’am? It’s the police. You’re safe now.’