‘I think John hid in the crawlspace, then shot your father and hid his body until it was time to stage his death. He knew that house better than anyone. Your grandad was always telling him to stay out of the walls.’

Given what they knew about the silencer, her theory held.

‘I remember the funeral,’ Sarah said. ‘John couldn’t look me in the eye. I thought it was grief. But later I came to think he was worried about being found out.’ She gave Richie a sideways glance. He was staring at John, his jaw tensed.

‘I asked John outright if he did it once,’ Mandy said. ‘He laughed and said I mustn’t speak of it again. It was all so odd. I couldn’t bear to live with him after a while, because deep down, I knew.’

‘Surely you could have pushed it, made the police listen.’

‘I tried. Believe me, I …’ Mandy’s voice broke as she struggled to explain herself.

‘Go on.’ Rain hammered against the hospital windows. The day was as grey as Sarah’s thoughts.

‘One night, John went to a function,’ Mandy continued. ‘It was only a week after the funerals, and I didn’t want to go. It seemed wrong, you know? Disrespectful. But if John was grieving then he didn’t show it. He went out and I stayed at home alone. I was going to bed when the power went out. I went downstairs to find the fuse box and …’

‘Yes?’

‘I’ve never told this to a living soul.’

‘You can trust me,’ Sarah said. ‘I just want closure.’

There was a pause before Mandy inhaled. ‘The next thing I knew, someone was grabbing me from behind. They blindfolded and gagged me. Tied me to a chair.’

Sarah was chewing her bottom lip. ‘Who? Not John.’

‘No. He was still at the party. I remember their rough hands. The smell of booze on their breath. I’ve never been so scared in all my life.’

‘What happened?’ Sarah wasn’t sure if she wanted to know.

‘They told me to shut up. They said if I even thought about speaking to the police that they’d be back to finish what they’d started. They didn’t mention John. But I knew. He’d got himself involved with some bad people. He was in way over his head.’

‘What about when he came home?’

‘He found me, still tied up. He seemed upset, but not once did he offer to call the police. There was no forced entry. He said I couldn’t have locked the back door. But I did. I specifically remembered doing it. That’s when I wondered if he’d given them a key. The next day I packed my bags and left. I wanted no part of it.’