Murphy had taken a lot of beatings in his life; he was hardier than most. He found his way to his feet and before he knew it blood was on his knuckles, and two of his assailants were on the ground.

People were screaming, sirens were ringing, and then Dave was there, shoving people away, pulling Murphy from the crowd. Murphy, wild with fury, threw Dave off. Uniformed police officers appeared, moving between Murphy and the vigilantes.

‘Your brother needs you, Murphy. Go,’ came Badenhorst’s voice from right beside him. Murphy turned to see him spreading his arms to hold people back.

Dave tried to wrench Murphy towards his waiting car. ‘I’m going to sue all of you bastards! I’ll see you in court!’ He tugged on Murphy. ‘Move, for fuck’s sake!’

Murphy saw that Badenhorst was now supervising the arrest of the vigilantes. He let himself be pushed into Dave’s car, even as a group of teenagers started clambering on top of it, jumping up and down, calling him a paedophile, shouting threats.

‘Mad-i-son! Mad-i-son!’ they began to chant.

The teenagers leapt off, screaming and laughing, as Dave put the car into gear and sped off.

Blood in his mouth and dripping into his eye, Murphy nearly started swinging again when Dave pushed a box of tissues from the centre console into Murphy’s hand.

‘We should take you to hospital.’

‘I’m gonna kill them.’

‘Who?’ said Dave.

‘Anyone.’

Dave didn’t reply. He drove towards Butch’s house, not speaking as Murphy swore and raged, punching the door.

‘I didn’t give her weed,’ Murphy finally said. ‘Any of them. You know I didn’t.’

‘If you don’t supply Cierra or Georgia, then someone you do supply must have . . . maybe they were having sex with Cierra.’

‘We have a middle-man,’ said Murphy. ‘His name is Skinner. I don’t know everyone he sells to: he has this rule where he won’t tell his suppliers who he sells to. Keeps a buffer between things. But I know he doesn’t sell to minors.’

‘You need to talk to him. Do some investigating yourself. If you won’t tell the cops that the weed really did come from you —’

‘You told me not to!’

‘And I stand by that,’ said Dave. ‘But Cierra had a bag, and Georgia had a bag, so —’

‘And Jasmine had one,’ said Murphy.

‘What?’

‘She stole a bag of weed on her way out the door, before the camp. Butch knew, but he lied to me about it.’

Dave was silent for a moment. ‘So . . .’ he began gently. ‘We do know that someone who smokes your weed was in Cierra’s room. It’s not much to go off, but you need to sort this out, mate . . . because if Jasmine had a target on her . . .’

Murphy felt like a bullet ripped through his chest. ‘What?’ His voice rose. ‘What did you just —’