“I’m going to turn on the recorder on my phone,” I told Stephanie. “Is that okay? I really think we need to … uh…”

“It’s fine. It’s okay.” Stephanie nodded, wiping tears. “I know you have to do what you have to do.”

The girl had become stiff, numb. Val crept into the room and stood leaning against a spare gurney near us. I brought up the voice memo app on my phone and started recording.

“You’re not obliged to say anything at all to me,” I said. “You’re here of your own free will. No one’s threatening you. No one’s pressuring you right now. Would you agree?”

“Yes,” Stephanie said, nodding.

The hand that held the phone was shaking. I tapped the screen, made doubly sure the seconds were being recorded.

“I’m Ted Conkaffey,” I said. I’d forgotten the old scripts I used to use for interviews, the ones that ensured the confession was useful to Sweeney and her team. My career as a police officer seemed a million years ago. “I’m in the presence of Dr. Valerie Gratteur of the Cairns Hospital’s Forensic and Scientific Services office, and Stephanie Neash. Stephanie, you’ve … you’ve just said something to me and I think it might be a good idea if you say it again for the recording.”

I stated the date and time, having almost forgotten to, struggling to decide if this was appropriate. She was over eighteen, legally an adult. I wasn’t obliged to wait until she had a lawyer or a parent or guardian with her. The recording I was about to make might not stand up in any courthouse. But exhilaration and terror were coursing through me, and all I knew was that I wanted to capture what she was about to say even if it meant it would be legally problematic.

“I killed Keema and Andrew,” Stephanie said. She blurted the words between sobs, eyes fixed on the floor before her. “I was there that night. I knew about the affair already. I found out weeks ago. I was so mad I just killed them both. I was so mad, so humiliated. I’m so fucking humiliated.”

Stephanie held a fist to her eyes, seemed to want to beat at her forehead with it. Val lit the cigarette she’d been intending to have and started sucking hard on it, blowing smoke over her shoulder. I felt a sudden impulse to ask her for one, to do the same.

“Can you go back for me?” I asked. “When did you discover the affair, exactly? How did you find out about Andrew’s relationship with Keema?”