They had reached the far edge of the holiday park. As they passed, a bulldozer raised its bucket high and brought it down on the roof of one of the few remaining caravans, breaking the structure’s back. Will heard a dreadful creaking and snapping, like the breaking of old bones. He felt the pain inside his body, as if some part of him was being damaged too.

‘I had a long chat with Ms Richards,’ said Mr deVillars. ‘I told her there were some alternative theories about who might be responsible for Alice Lang’s death. I asked if you’d been open with her about your movements that night.’

‘I was with my mother.’

‘Were you? All night?’

‘Yes.’

‘Strange then, how you were seen behaving aggressively outside Caravan 49.’

Will was shocked into silence.

‘For your information, Will,’ said Mr deVillars slowly, ‘my son wasn’t in Severn Sands on the evening the girl disappeared. He’d gone to the music festival in Weston-super-Mare. Afterwards, he and his friends drove up into the Mendips and camped out near Cheddar Gorge. The following day they were at the festival again. Guy didn’t get back here until lunchtime on the Sunday.’

The wipers moved backwards and forwards. A small leaf was caught under the rubber flap of the left one. It made a smear on the screen with each pass.

‘Guy’s alibi was checked by the police and corroborated. He shared a tent with two friends. It would have been impossible for him to get back to Channel View, do away with the girl, and get back to the campsite before morning. Absolutely impossible. So, whatever happened to her, it was nothing to do with him.’

He paused for a moment, then continued: ‘I told your journalist friend that any more of this sort of nonsense and I’ll be having a word with our solicitor and her editors. And if I were you, Will, I’d tread very carefully.’

Will watched the leaf on the windscreen. It couldn’t be true. Guy must have gone to the festival after he killed Alice. He must have manipulated the truth somehow, changed the timeline…

When Mr deVillars next spoke, the tone of his voice had changed.

‘I knew this news would affect you profoundly, William. You never could hide your feelings. Heart-on-your-sleeve kind of fellow, aren’t you? I know that at the time you tried to keep it quiet, you and your mother, but everyone knew you were mad about that girl. Everyone knew how possessive you could be. Everyone saw you mooning after her, like a dog.’

Will felt as if he was being circled. He had no idea where this was going.

The old man was quiet for a moment, then he seemed to change tack once again. ‘Camille and I have followed your career, you know. We’ve bought all your books. How many is it now? Ten? Eleven?’

‘The twelfth was out in November.’