‘How is everyone?’ Rob asks. ‘In the pub?’

‘I’m outside.’

‘I should be with you. Honestly, I can come back down tonight.’

‘Back down’ after returning to London yesterday? Or ‘back down’ after a secret flying visit to the village this morning? She leaves it for now, closes her eyes and leans against the outside wall of the pub, trying not to think about the dead man on the beach. The wall is still warm, retaining the heat of the day. She knew at once that he was Herman, the same person who’d been trying to kill her. What looked like a bullet wound – she was exposed to some graphic crime-scene photos when she was working for the force – had left the lower forehead barely recognisable, but she could still make out the prominent brow.

She knows that she must ask Rob if he was in Cornwall when they spoke earlier. For her own sanity as much as Bex’s. Settle the matter once and for all. It might not have been his car that Mark saw, but the jets are still troubling her.

‘Today, when we were talking on FaceTime, some military jets flew low over the house,’ she begins, determined to hold it together.

‘Is Bex with you?’ Rob asks. She’s not sure if he’s even listening to her. ‘In the pub?’

‘And then, two seconds later, we heard them flying over you,’ she continues, ignoring him. Her lip’s bleeding she’s biting on it so hard. ‘The same sound came through the speakers. Which means you were talking to us from somewhere nearby, Rob. In Cornwall.’

‘I don’t know what you’re talking about,’ Rob says.

‘Please – just tell me if you were down here this morning,’ she says, as firmly as she can without raising her voice. Tears are coming now. She looks around, in case anyone is nearby. A man on the far side of the square glances over at her.

‘We’ve been through this, Kate. I was up here. In the flat and then over at the office. I’ve been in meetings all day. The IPO is next week. Things are a little crazy right now.’

She knows the feeling. She wipes away a tear and closes her eyes. As his words wash over her, she decides that Rob isn’t lying. Her relief is immediate, the tension melting away. It’s so much easier – for her, for Bex, for Rob – to believe that he’s telling the truth. And that maybe she is delusional, suffering from this thing called Capgras.

‘So why did we hear the jets twice?’ she asks, all conviction gone now. She knows he’ll have some technical explanation, a plausible theory that will allow her to sleep tonight.

‘There was a lot of delay on the line today,’ he says. ‘You know what reception’s been like down there. Nightmare.’