Murphy shrugged, still keeping hold of his shoulder, and flashing the car keys he’d just lifted from Con’s pocket. ‘Your boss lady told me I should drive, and honestly, I’m more scared of her than I am of you.’

Con thought about fighting. Then he just nodded and let Murphy help him back to the car.

CHAPTER 39

MURPHY

Con fell asleep the moment Murphy started the BMW. He drove back to his own house, the detective occasionally shifting in his sleep.

When they arrived, Murphy saw that Butch’s Hilux wasn’t in the drive. He roused Con from his nap. There was a feral glint in his eyes before he oriented himself to where he was. ‘Thanks for waking me,’ he said, back to hiding the hint of pain that had briefly been on display.

Murphy felt a sudden protectiveness. ‘Do you want to crash here? You can have my bed, I’ll sleep in Jasmine’s.’

‘No, it’s okay. But I appreciate the offer.’

As they parted, Con clasped Murphy’s hand and gripped his shoulder.

Inside, Murphy stopped by the fridge to grab a six-pack of beer. He sat on his bed, back against the headboard, and opened the laptop.

He cracked open a bottle and drank as he played the third video.

Jasmine was in Madison’s room again, a different day. She picked at the hem of her sleeve.

‘I was thirteen when I discovered that my dad is not my biological father.’

Murphy choked on his beer, spitting it over the screen.

‘It’s Dad’s brother, Butch. He raped my mum. That was how I came to be.’

‘No,’ said Murphy aloud. He leaned forward.

‘Mum told me the whole story. She was dating my dad, but then she and Butch got drunk. He came on to her, she couldn’t stop him . . . nine months later, there I was. They had the DNA test not long after.

‘So Butch knows, but Mum made me swear never to tell Dad. My real dad, Jordan Murphy. She didn’t want him thinking less of her, or less of Butch . . . or less of me . . .’

The video ended.

That was it, the entire file.

Murphy clicked on the next video, his finger trembling. He couldn’t even feel the rage yet, but it was coming from a distance, like the rumble of the railroad when a train is coming.

Jasmine’s make-up was done more sharply this time, eyeliner and thick foundation and red lipstick. This video began even worse.

‘Dad . . . if you’re seeing this, then you know. Uncle Butch is my biological father.’ She took a deep breath. ‘And that means you also know me and the others planned to disappear. I know it’s hard for you to believe this, but I’m doing this for us. For you and me.

‘Now that I’ve taken this step, what I need you to do is . . .