“You understand?” My voice is stiff, my hands clenched around my bag. My eyes flutter open—did I say that out loud? The woman in front shifts in her seat. She probably thinks I’m mad, talking to myself. I close my eyes again, letting myself drift. If this is a lost memory, I need to find my way back to it.

Bella rolls her eyes. “Don’t be like that. You were the one who stomped off. You were the one who said those awful things to him.”

“You said you hated him.”

“That was before I knew him. He’s like us, Tess, he really is. He’s angry because of what she did. He’s…” Her voice trails off as she gets lost in her memories of whatever he did or said to steal her away.

I could finish her sentence but I don’t think she’d like what I had to say. He’s dangerous. He’s manipulative. He’s using you. He’s wrong and everything she’s doing is wrong.

I’d forgotten all this. I’d forgotten this bus journey. I’d forgotten her words.

Wait. Where are we going? I try to pull out of the dream.

“This didn’t happen,” I say, and she laughs. “I didn’t get the bus back with you. We didn’t have this conversation.”

The bus is fading, the landscape outside blurring.

“But didn’t you always wonder?” she says. “We never talked about it, did we? Dad told us about marrying Julia and we never got around to talking about it.”

I pull awake with a gasp and the woman in front turns to look at me. “Are you okay, love?” she says, a wary frown on her face. I stumble up out of my seat and go to the front of the bus, pressing the bell for the next stop.

I get to the police station just before eleven, walking the last mile. My head feels spacey, weird.

“Is Detective Levinson here?” My voice sounds strange again as I speak—faraway, not mine. I’m aware of curious glances as I’m shown into an office. There are three messy desks, but I’m the only person sitting in here. People walk by, slowing as they look at me. Am I shaking? God—am I even dressed? I check myself—yes, clothes, shoes. No coat and I haven’t brushed my hair or put any makeup on, but I’m dressed at least. God, I can’t remember the last time I slept properly. My eyes hurt. My head hurts. I have to start taking those sleeping pills. I will. Tonight.

“Tess? Have you remembered something?” Detective Levinson comes in, taking a seat opposite me, moving a pile of paper into a tray.

“Is my dad still here?”

He frowns and shakes his head.