‘When did you last see Meg?’ I watched the young man for signs that he might know what happened to her. I saw none.

‘Last night. I went down the pub. Jess posted Meg’s birthday pictures on Instagram so I knew she’d be there.’ Nathan looked down at his hands. Fingernails bitten to the quick. He picked up a coaster and began turning it around and around.

‘Was she there?’ asked Wozza, knowing the answer.

‘Yeah.’

‘Tell us what happened when you saw her,’ I said.

Nathan looked up and met my eyes, the dull look suddenly sparking. ‘What’s this about?’ he said. ‘Has something happened to Meg?’

‘Why do you ask that?’ Wozza leaned forward.

Nathan bit his lip. ‘Because you’re here asking me questions.’

‘Tell us about seeing Meg at the pub,’ I said, careful to keep my voice even.

‘They posted on Instagram at seven thirty. When I saw the post, I went down there. I kind of hung back—you know, just to watch her.’

I made a note of the times. ‘Did she see you?’

He shook his head. ‘Anyway, this guy bought her a drink and I’d had a beer and I thought it’s now or never. I went up to her and said happy birthday and she looked happy I was there.’ Nathan grimaced at the memory.

‘Who bought her the drink?’ I asked a little sharply.

Nathan thought for a moment. ‘Dunno. From where I was standing, it was a bit hard to see. And anyway, I was focused on Meg.’

‘Would you recognise him again if you saw him?’

Nathan shrugged. ‘I guess.’

‘She was happy to see you?’ Wozza prompted.

‘I think so … at least, she seemed to be. She agreed to go outside with me and talk. I was gonna ask her if we could patch things up between us.’

From Nathan’s expression, it was easy to see the conversation hadn’t gone well; there was a fragility around him that did not suggest a reconciliation. ‘What happened then?’ I asked.

‘She was fine until we got outside, then she started acting all drunk. I reckon she was taking the piss out of me, because one minute she was fine, then a minute later she was slurring and staggering and doing this stupid giggle.’ Nathan’s lip trembled. ‘And all I wanted to do was tell her … how I felt about her.’

A grim realisation. I knew what had happened. The drink Meg was given just before Nathan asked her to go outside must’ve been spiked. Meg wasn’t acting drunk; she was a vulnerable drugged teen outside a pub. ‘What did you do then?’

Nathan looked at me. ‘She made me so angry …’ He bowed his head and finished in a low voice, ‘I called her a bitch and walked home.’

‘So you just left her there? Outside the pub?’ said Wozza.

‘Yep,’ said Nathan.