‘The secrets on there. Any of them yours?’

‘No.’

No beat beforehand, no split-second decision. No lie.

‘Why not? You don’t have secrets? Or you keep them to yourself?’

Rebecca said, ‘I’ve got friends. I tell them my secrets. I don’t need to go around telling the whole school. Even anonymously.’

Her head had gone up; her voice had filled out all of a sudden, rang through the sunlight to the corners of the room. She was proud.

I said, ‘Do you figure your friends tell you all their secrets, too?’

A beat there; quarter of a second when her lips opened and nothing came out. Then she said, ‘I know everything about them.’

Still that ring in her voice, like joy. A lift to her mouth that was almost a smile.

I felt it change my breathing. Right there, a flash like a signal: the something else I’d been looking for. Burning hotter, throwing off sparks in strange colours.

Not the same thing, Conway had said; not the same as Joanne’s lot. No shit.

I said, ‘And you all keep each other’s secrets. You’d never rat the others out.’

‘No. None of us would. Ever.’

‘So,’ I said, ‘this isn’t yours?’ Photo into Rebecca’s hand.

Breath and a high whimper came out of her. Her mouth was open.

‘Someone put that on the Secret Place yesterday evening. Was it you?’

All of her was sucked into the photo. It took a moment for the question to sink in enough that she said, ‘No.’

Not lying: not enough of her attention was left for it. Another one down.

‘Do you know who did?’

Rebecca hauled herself out of the photo. She said, ‘It wasn’t any of us. Me and my friends.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Because none of us know who killed Chris.’

And she put the photo back into my hand. End of story. She was pulled up straight-backed and head high, looking me in the eye, no blink.

I said, ‘Let’s say you had to guess. Had to, no way out. What would you say?’

‘Guess what? Who did the card, or . . . Chris?’

‘Both.’

Rebecca gave me the blank teenage shrug that sends parents apeshit.

I said, ‘The way you talk about your friends, it sounds like they mean a lot to you. Am I right?’

‘Yeah. They do.’

‘People are going to know the four of you could have had something to do with this card. Fact. No way round that. If I had friends I cared about, I’d do whatever it took to make sure there wasn’t a killer out there thinking they had info on him. Even if it meant answering questions I didn’t like.’

Rebecca thought about that. Carefully.

She moved her chin at the photo. ‘I think someone just made that up.’