‘She’ll be okay,’ says Dee. ‘She loves you and you love her. Just be patient. I know this is torture, but she has to come home sometime.’

I shake my head. ‘Michael’s not going to let her just leave. He has his prize. A way to hurt me. Do you think he’s going to let that prize walk out of the door?’

‘What are you saying?’

‘The only way Liberty is leaving is if I make out like I’ll trade places.’ I loop climbing rope over my shoulder, pushing past Nick and running down stairs two steps at a time.

‘This is idiotic,’ calls Dee over the banisters. ‘You’ll just get arrested. What exactly do you plan to do at Michael’s house anyway? Beat him up?’

‘Do exactly what Michael wants.’

Or at least pretend to.

Neither Nick nor Dee know about the samurai steel kitchen knife inside my jacket.

Liberty

I watch my DM boots squash leaves and flatten twigs as Michael and I head through his private woodland. It’s afternoon now, and the air is warm around the feathery fir trees. Bright blue sky frames the main house up ahead.

I sense Michael’s eyes on me.

‘Michael,’ I say. ‘I think I know who my real mother is.’

Michael slows, his shoulders stiffening. ‘Let’s have some lunch before we start down that road. I haven’t given you so much as a snack in hours. I’ve been a terrible father. I can’t have my little girl not eating.’

‘I’m not sure I can eat right now, truthfully.’

‘Well, that little pooch of yours will want something, won’t he? Come on. Back to the house with you.’ He quickens his pace.

Skywalker trots behind us, a good pack member following his leader. I can tell he wants to explore everything, and sometimes he sneaks a little sniff of a tree or the ground.

The trees thin out and bright sunshine struggles onto the woodland floor. We turn a corner and the turreted main house appears ahead of us, magnificently fake and multicoloured.

I stride to catch up with Michael. ‘So about my real mother…’

Michael slows again then, rubbing at his craggy face. ‘Yeah?’

‘I think … she’s Annalise, isn’t she? The girl who went missing.’

Skywalker trots behind us, his paws making a gentle puff-puff sound on loose soil and fallen fir frongs. We come out of the woodlands into full sunshine.

‘What makes you think that?’ Michael asks, turning to me then, eyes sharpening.