‘Why?’

‘We just were.’

Yardley tilts her head. ‘Where did you go?’

Alex is running, running away from the house. ‘Just around. Like, not very far.’

‘Did Nicole return to the house with you?’

Alex has the feeling again, of wanting to go back in time, to undo all the things that have been done. But it’s impossible, like trying to scratch an itch in the marrow of her bones.

‘No. She ran off. After that I was on my own.’

Yardley blinks. ‘Where did she go?’

‘I don’t know!’ Alex is crying now.

No one speaks for a few moments.

‘You don’t know why she ran off,’ says Yardley. ‘That’s okay. We can come back to that, see if there’s more you can remember about it later.’

Bowman writes something in his notebook, and a shrill sound builds in Alex’s brain.

The night air is on her cheeks, the salty breeze from the sea. Nicole walking next to her, talking on the phone. Alex feels worried, worried it’s all about to fall apart.

‘What about when you came back?’ Yardley presses. ‘We know you returned to the house at some point before 3 am. Can you tell us about that?’

Alex can feel the eyes of the chief inspector on her. Gazing with pity? Frustration? Disgust? She shakes her head vigorously, trying to block out the noise as it climbs, higher and higher, like a kettle boiling.

‘Alex?’

She’s lying on her side, arms and legs brick-heavy with booze and drugs. The dull ache of fading rage. She is sick of fighting, sick of everything. The front door is open, and it’s cold; she feels the shudder of the floorboards. Footsteps. Soft and firm. Firm and soft. Voices.

‘What about your housemate Evelyn? Did you see her? Talk to her?’

Alex blocks her ears with her palms, tears and snot dripping onto the table. She opens her eyes. The world is sideways, but she recognises the familiar hallway. Upturned furniture. Milk-pale skin. The knife in her hand.

‘All I remember is the blood,’ she whispers. ‘There was just so much blood.’

CHAPTER THREE: TUESDAY, 8 SEPTEMBER 2015

CHAPTER THREE

TUESDAY, 8 SEPTEMBER 2015