And that’s when he caught sight of his hunting jacket, the unexplained tear in the arm. He’d been wearing it the night of the angel dust. He’d been wearing it the morning of Jasmine’s disappearance. The night he couldn’t account for.

If you raped Sara without knowing it . . . what else might you have done without knowing it?

This was a real thought, churning in his mind. And in a way it was the same thought that had been churning ever since he’d found Jasmine was missing – he didn’t know where he’d been at the time that she disappeared.

But he’d convinced himself that no matter what Skinner said about angel dust, he doubted it could’ve taken him from his backyard all the way up to the track where she’d been taken, without him even being aware of it. But . . . was it possible there was something dark within him? Something that he didn’t even know about? That the drugs had snapped something within him, unleashed some hidden demon?

That’s not how drugs work, he thought angrily.

‘Murphy?’ came Butch’s voice from behind the door. ‘The cops are here for you.’

Murphy rushed to the door – he hadn’t heard sirens or even knocking. ‘Have they found something?’ he croaked.

Butch shrugged. ‘They’re in the kitchen.’

Murphy ran down the hall.

Two uniformed policemen and a detective stood there: the detective he’d seen up at the car park the first day of Jasmine’s disappearance.

‘Who are you?’ he asked the detective.

‘Detective Stuart Coops. Would you mind coming down the station with us?’

‘What’s this about?’

‘Detective Badenhorst wants a word with you,’ said Coops.

‘And he couldn’t do it here?’

‘He’s busy. Come on, I’ll give you a ride.’

‘And if I refuse?’ said Murphy, fists curled. He felt the anger starting to rise. His mind kept spinning back to the video, Jasmine’s damning confession, that hunting jacket . . .

‘I’ll still be giving you a ride to the station,’ said Coops. ‘Come on, mate. This way is much nicer for both of us. Sooner we go, the sooner you can come back.’

Murphy ignored Butch, who was hissing under his breath, trying to get his attention, and walked out the door with Coops and the other policeman.

He pushed his anger down. He’d go see what Con had to say.

I didn’t rape your mum, Jasmine.

I know I didn’t.

Please come back to me.

Murphy walked up the front steps of the police station with Detective Coops in front of him and the other two policemen behind. Media crowded the steps, shouting questions at him.

‘Mr Murphy! Do you have anything to say?’

‘Was Eliza Ellis sleeping with Jasmine, too?’

‘Were you and Eliza seeing each other?’

‘How disgusted are you that a local teacher —’