‘Any reason in particular?’ said Wozza in his gentle dad-voice.

Meg just shook her head and looked miserable. But there was something in her eyes. Fear?

When she didn’t answer, I changed the subject. ‘What do you remember after he left?’

Meg looked from me to Wozza and shook her head bleakly. ‘Nothing. At least, nothing until you picked me up.’

‘In the car yesterday, you said something like they threw you out of the car. Do you remember that?’

Meg looked towards the ceiling as she searched her memory. ‘I have this vague idea that I was in a car and there was more than one person with me. They didn’t even stop the car properly. They pushed me out and I—’ She raised her left elbow and I saw the elbow and forearm were grazed.

‘You hit the gravel?’

‘Yep.’ Meg took a deep breath.

‘We can take a break if this is too hard for you,’ I said gently.

‘No!’ Meg’s eyes flashed. ‘I don’t want to be a victim here. I don’t want this to ruin me. I didn’t do anything wrong.’

‘No, you didn’t. And good on you,’ I said, admiring her spirit.

Before I finished, I had one more question: ‘Did you get Rachel’s SMS? From the night at the pub?’

Meg shook her head. ‘I accidentally left my phone on the dressing table in my bedroom at home. We had it out taking birthday selfies for Insta. By the time I realised I didn’t have it, I figured the others had theirs if we needed one to call a cab or anything.’

No phone meant no electronic trail.

We met Trish Mulligan on the way out. She looked showered and fresh in a change of clothes. I could only imagine what she was going through. As much as parents wanted to protect their children, the harsh reality was that there always came a day when they had to go through something on their own and there was nothing parents could do but stand by their side and be there for them. Bad things happened to good kids. I could only hope that the aftermath would serve to make them stronger, not crush them. Early signs were good.

‘I just spoke to the doctor,’ said Trish. ‘She said everything went well. Meg was very lucky.’

‘She seems like a tough kid,’ said Wozza.

Trish nodded thoughtfully. ‘Yes, she is.’

As soon as we were clear of the Mulligans, I said one word to Wozza. ‘They.’ And he nodded grimly like he had the same word stuck in his head.

They. More than one.

Randall was on duty, sitting on a chair outside a room two doors down from Meg’s. I saw him and raised a hand to wave, then realised he must be guarding Matthew Bunting, my intruder from last night. I nodded to Wozza and we both headed over.