Same story as the other three, or bits of it. She wasn’t sure who’d asked for permission, who’d left the art room; looked vague at me when I asked if she’d gone to the toilet. Agreed that she might’ve done, but agreed like she was saying it to make me happy, being kind because it didn’t matter to her either way.

She hadn’t looked at the Secret Place, any time during the evening. I asked, ‘Have you put up any cards there?’

Selena shook her head.

‘No? Never?’

‘I don’t really get the Secret Place. I don’t even like reading it.’

‘Why not? You don’t like secrets? Or you figure they should stay secret?’

She wove her fingers together, watched them fascinated, the way babies do. Soft eyebrows pulling together, just a touch. ‘I just don’t like it. It bothers me.’

I said, ‘So this isn’t yours.’ Slapped the photo into her hands.

Her fingers were so loose, the photo fell right through them, spun to the ground. She just watched it fall. I had to pick it up for her.

It got us nothing, this time. Selena held it and gazed at it for so long, not a budge in that sweet peaceful face, I started wondering had she copped what it meant.

‘Chris,’ she said, in the end. I felt Conway twitch, No shit Sherlock.

I said, ‘Someone put that up in the Secret Place. Was it you?’

Selena shook her head.

‘Selena. If it was, you’re not in any trouble. We’re only delighted to have it. But we need to know.’

Another head-shake.

She was mist-smooth, your hand went right through her without touching. No cracks to jimmy, no loose threads to pull. No way in.

I asked, ‘Then who do you think it was?’

‘I don’t know.’ Puzzled look, like I was a weirdo to ask.

‘If you had to guess.’

Selena did her best to come up with something; trying to make me happy again. ‘Maybe it was a joke?’

‘Would any of your friends play a joke like that?’

‘Julia and Holly and Becca? No.’

‘What about Joanne Heffernan and her friends? Would they?’

‘I don’t know. I don’t understand most of what they do.’ The mention of them slid a faint frown across Selena’s forehead, but a second later it had faded.

I said, ‘Who do you think killed Chris Harper?’

Selena thought about that for a long time. Sometimes her lips moved, like she was about to start a sentence but then it fell out of her mind. Conway at my shoulder, sizzling with impatience.

In the end Selena said, ‘I don’t think anyone’s ever going to know.’

Her voice had turned clear, strong. For the first time, she was looking at us like she saw us.

Conway said, ‘Why not?’