‘It was on Mr Nolan’s phone,’ McKnight said. ‘Taken October thirty-first, two nights before your hike.’

I had to say the right thing, to not screw this up, too. ‘I don’t,’ I managed, cursing myself for how flustered I’d gotten. ‘I mean, it wasn’t like that.’

‘Like what, Miss King?’

A sour taste in the back of my mouth. I imagined old radiators, caked with dust and mold. Spores, seeping into my lungs like poison. ‘Like it looks.’

‘So you don’t deny that Mr Nolan was in your bedroom that night?’

‘No … I just mean … nothing ever happened,’ I said. ‘He had too much to drink. He stayed over. That’s all. I don’t know why he took that photo. I don’t know –’

‘And you never thought fit to mention,’ he went on, ‘that Mr Nolan spent the night with you two nights before he was murdered?’

‘He didn’t spend the night with me. It wasn’t like that. It was nothing.’

‘Does Ms Abernathy know about this little bit of nothing?’

My cheeks burned with shame. ‘No,’ I said. ‘No, of course not. But –’

‘But what, Miss King?’

‘We didn’t do anything. We had too much to drink, and he passed out in my cottage, but he woke up fully clothed. That’s it. I had no idea he took this photo, or why he took it,’ I said, as betrayal surged through me. ‘But it’s not my fault that he did.’

It was the truth, and I hoped McKnight could see it in my eyes. I couldn’t imagine John doing something like that, while I was sleeping, no less – without my consent. Was he no better than those guys in college? Had I mistaken him completely?

McKnight leaned forward and adjusted the printout, as if he wanted it to be perfectly straight. ‘I don’t know if you and John were sleeping together, and I don’t really care. Seems there was a lot of … activity … with people he wasn’t married to. What I care about is why you lied about seeing him fall. And this, to me, is a reason.’

Blood rushed in my ears.

‘Whether you slept together or not, you obviously were more than just friends. Sometimes, when those feelings start, people want to, you know, be with each other. Sometimes they make plans to leave their wives. Disappear on a hike and have their girlfriend swear up and down that they fell off a cliff. Even toss their camera down toward the river to make it look like they fell, to make sure their wife never guesses …’

He was so wrong, and yet he was so right at the same time. So close. ‘You don’t understand,’ I said. ‘That’s not what happened.’