He scratched at his chin. I could see, on the edge of his cheek, the tiniest of cuts, probably from shaving. I remembered what he’d said to me about marriage, and I wondered if his wife had kissed that cheek this morning, if he had kids and a dog to go home to after he spent the day skulking around a memorial service and harassing me – an American dream. I glanced at his hand. There wasn’t a ring. Maybe he was divorced, I thought, drank too much and smoked too much, like detectives did on TV, tried to numb himself to the overdoses and domestic violence disputes a mountain town would bring you. Maybe he was just as lonely as I was, could smell it on me.

‘The truth is,’ McKnight went on, ‘neither of you saw him fall, and yet you were so sure he had.’

‘I already told you this. It was raining,’ I said. ‘It happened so fast. I know I heard the scream, though. And then I saw his backpack and the water bottle, and I just thought …’

He held up a hand. ‘Yes, it sounds like you know this part well. But why would your mind ever go to a fall in the first place? Why land on that story, exactly? Especially before Officer Parker took you down to the riverbank and you all found the camera. There are other options. He could have gone off trail. He could have been calling for help.’

I gripped the edge of the table, as if I could stop my head from spinning if I pressed hard enough. ‘Then why would his stuff be right there on the edge?’ I asked. ‘What was I supposed to think?’

McKnight grunted, adjusting in his seat. ‘Have you ever been to the cabin Mr Nolan used as his studio, the one where we found him? People in town say that he used to bring women there.’

‘No,’ I said. And then, correcting, ‘Vera and John drove me by, but I never went inside.’

‘Never?’ he asked.

‘I never went there,’ I said, my voice stiff. ‘I swear.’

He leaned back, his stomach resting against the edge of the table, spilling over just slightly. ‘Here’s what I’m thinking, Miss King, and granted, it’s just a theory. I think maybe you and Mr Nolan came up with a plan in tandem. Maybe you guys agreed he would disappear on this hike, and you’d run off together. Then he starts to get cold feet, he maybe feels bad about leaving his wife, he changes his mind – who knows, maybe he even reconnects with his old friend Rachel – and you don’t like that.’

‘No,’ I said.

He wasn’t as stupid as I’d pegged him – that scared me.

Could I tell him the truth?