I stood quite still for a moment. The creeping sense of fear welling up inside me wasn’t rational. I knew that. It had been triggered by the Rooneys and it was making me paranoid. I was jumping to conclusions. There was no reason to think that Krystal had been killed. If she had, the police would have found something. People would have asked questions. Mitch would have wondered.

It occurred to me I could easily google everyone involved. Even if Krystal had changed her name, Mitch probably hadn’t. I headed for my office, making a mental list; I would google Krystal, then Joyce, then Mitch, then Sue King and Steve King and Cooktown. I would work out when Sue King had replaced Joyce Rooney. I would find out when Scott had left Otford.

But on reaching my desk, I couldn’t even log onto the internet. I tried again and again until I finally worked out that the phone was dead too.

When I looked outside, I discovered that the line had been severed.

‘Warren?’ I hurried onto the parade ground. ‘Warren!’

He emerged from his hut, looking surprised. ‘Rob?’

‘The line’s down.’

‘What?’

‘My line! The phone line…’ I was breathless. Frantic. ‘Someone cut it. On the wall.’

His forehead creased. ‘Little bastards,’ he growled, moving in my direction.

‘No. No, not the—I don’t—it might have…’ I couldn’t think straight. ‘Did you see Scott get on the ferry?’

‘Who?’

‘I mean Steve. Aaron’s dad. Darren’s dad.’

‘Darren’s dad?’

Oh, Christ. It was all so confusing.

‘I thought Steve was Darren’s brother.’ Warren had reached me at last. He was looking puzzled. ‘Though I have to admit, it’s a pretty big age gap.’

‘Did Steve get on board? Did you see him?’

‘I don’t know. There were lots of people.’

‘I think he cut the line.’ Turning, I charged towards the jetty. ‘We need to leave.’

‘Wait! Robyn!’

I shook off his hand and kept moving. ‘Something’s wrong. We have to tell the police. Shit, there were coppers right here—I could have said something.’

‘About what?’ Warren had caught up with me.

‘About Joyce. I mean Sue. Sue is really Joyce. And she’s Darren’s grandmother.’ I fumbled for my keys. ‘Steve is Darren’s father, and his name is Scott. It’s weird. It doesn’t make sense.’ I had to slow my pace as I searched for the key to the boathouse. Ah! There it was. ‘I could be wrong, but…I think there’s a chance they might have murdered Darren’s mum.’

‘What?’

‘I mean, I don’t know for sure. But someone cut the line. What if they did it to stop me from calling the police?’

‘Rob, it could have been Jake—’

‘It could have been Scott.’ I reached the boathouse and grabbed its padlock. ‘He might have stayed behind.’

‘But there’s no one around. I looked.’