I’m almost proud. Bet she never thought I’d be willing to go this far. It’s rarely been me convincing Becca before. All our life she’s been the one with the bold ideas, while I’m usually the hesitator.

I grab for the pills but she gets there first, holding them to her chest. “Kate, come on.”

“You said you were here to help.”

“For fuck’s sake, I am. But spiking a guy’s drink?”

“He’s not just a guy. He’s . . . he’s . . .” My tears surge back and Becca reaches out to me: She never could stand to see me cry. But I blink my eyes clear and take my chance to snatch the pills. “He’s the guy who gave my mum a hundred bruises.” I close my fingers around the tub and for the first time in weeks, perhaps the first time ever, I feel powerful.

30.

PAUL

Paul charged toward home, the rain still hammering down, his car an exasperating distance away. On his street, the colored ink was bleeding out of the Freya posters, making grotesque rainbows in the puddles. He took several down and folded them gently inside his coat as if to keep her dry. Glancing up at his flat, he imagined his parents and George inside, wondering what was going on. There was no time to explain. Where would he even begin?

Paul got into his car and reread the text that had interrupted his talk with Steph.

It’s Yvette. This is my personal number—use this from now on. I did some digging. Sanderson still lives near the Chainwell Estate. Don’t say anything to Glover. Please be careful. I hope I’m doing the right thing here.

She’d followed it with an address and postcode. Paul keyed it into his GPS, still disbelieving even as the location was confirmed. Sanderson had moved barely two miles from the old tower block, had stayed close to the memories all this time.

Thank you, Paul replied to Yvette. So much. His chest swelled with gratitude and hope, temporarily masking his dread of the journey he now had to make. As he set off, anxieties old and new swarmed in. The echo of Steph’s question in the stillness of the church.

Did you kill someone?

Once this nightmare was over—and he had to believe it would be—how could he make his wife and daughter understand, and forgive him? How could he even describe his former life of confused identity, confused loyalties? Buddying up with a man who’d potentially committed an unforgivable crime; getting closer than he should have to a woman who had no clue who he was. Freya and Steph would surely see him differently if they knew, just as he’d always feared.