Another shrug. “I wanted to keep things simple, I s’pose. I didn’t think it mattered. I told you all the important stuff, all the stuff that might help . . .” She saw his throat move as he swallowed. She wanted to step closer again but she didn’t dare. It was all she could do to keep her voice even.

“So you don’t know any more than you said?”

“No, of course not! Why do you have to be so suspicious?”

“I’m only asking.”

“First Dad, now you’re starting on me!”

Suddenly Emma felt herself snap. When would he stop demonizing her? Idolizing Robin at the expense of everything else?

“You’re not going back to your dad’s,” she said. “You’re going to stay here and help the police.”

“No, I’m not.” He turned again to go. “I’ve done what I can. I’m going home.”

“This is your home.” She rushed forward and grabbed his arm. “I’ve had enough of this, Zeb!”

He shook her off. As she glimpsed his face, she recognized the signs that he was about to cry.

“Zeb—”

He slammed out of the flat. Emma started to chase him but stopped in her doorway, imagining the cameras springing into action outside, capturing their altercation—maybe Steph looking down from above. The questions that would follow while Emma’s legs were still trembling.

So she watched from her living-room window, as she had on so many occasions recently, but this time it was to see her son weaving a path through the journalists, pausing at one of the posters of Freya, glancing back toward the house before he was gone.

50.

CHRIS

An engagement ring was visible in the photograph, glinting like a piece of treasure among earthquake debris. Except that the debris in the photo was treasure, too, in a way, the treasure of other people’s lives: a set of keys on a dolphin-shaped key-ring; a treble clef cuff link; a red Prada glasses case. And the silver pillbox, which had been the first thing to tumble out of the glove box that day, into Freya’s lap.

What’s with all the stuff in here? she’d said as Chris had frozen, watching her sift through.

He’d just managed to think of an excuse—they’d been having a clear-out at home, he was taking these things to a charity shop—when she’d recognized the pillbox. It belonged to Jess’s cousin, whom Chris also taught. Apparently she’d recently lost it and had been asking all her friends if they’d seen it because it was a christening present that meant a lot to her. Then Chris had been able to see Freya making connections, reading his own panic, understanding she’d discovered a stash of strangely personal loot.