‘When were you going to have a funeral for the baby?’ Jamie asked, his words directed to the front of the church and his voice breaking through the uncomfortable silence that had settled over the mourners. ‘Or has she just been forgotten about?’

There was a succession of gasps before a loud sob emanated from the row where Keira’s parents were sitting. Alex stood hurriedly and sidled out from her pew. She grabbed Jamie by the arm and pulled him out of the church. ‘You’re not supposed to be here. Close friends and family only, you know that. What the hell do you think you’re playing at, going in there and mentioning the baby like that?’

The young man looked for a moment as though he might push past her to go back into the church. ‘I am close,’ he told her. ‘Closer than most of that lot in there.’ He waved an arm in exasperation and turned away from Alex, folding his arms across his chest in a gesture of childish defiance. It didn’t last long; moments later, the boy was in tears. ‘I haven’t had a chance to say goodbye.’

Alex wondered how Jamie Bateman had survived living with Tom Stoddard for the past nine months. The two young men were polar opposites: one brash and obnoxious, the other quiet and sensitive. From what she’d seen of him so far, Jamie seemed the type to be scared by his own shadow; this was the first time she had detected any fire in him. Perhaps he’d had enough of fading into the background. It was difficult for Alex to look at him without considering him a suspect, but she knew that until they found out the truth about what had gone on at that house, everyone remained guilty until proven innocent. Had he hated Tom enough to kill him?

‘I know,’ she said. ‘But you need to find another way. It’s nothing personal to you, Jamie, but any reminder of the house in Treforest is a reminder of what happened to Keira. You understand that, don’t you?’

Jamie turned back to her. His eyes were red-rimmed with tears. ‘They don’t know her, not really. Not like I did.’

Alex watched as he ran a hand over his eyes, looking so much younger than his twenty years. There was something a bit pathetic about him, she thought; something vulnerable. He had the kind of face that looked as though it didn’t know where it belonged. Lost.

‘Have they even mentioned the baby?’ he said, his voice rising. ‘Has anyone even mentioned the baby?’

Keira’s pregnancy was no longer a secret, but the Norths – Louisa in particular – had on several occasions made it clear they wanted nothing said about it in front of them. As far as Alex could see, they were in denial. If they refused to speak about the unborn child or hear a word spoken about the pregnancy, they might be able to convince themselves it hadn’t been true after all.

Alex shook her head. ‘Not today. Today’s about Keira.’

‘So when does the baby get a funeral?’ Jamie snapped, moving closer to her. ‘Or has no one even thought of that?’

Alex smelled alcohol on his breath. ‘Have you been drinking, Jamie?’

He stepped back, apparently aware of his sudden aggression.

‘Bloody hell,’ she muttered. ‘Jamie, don’t you think there’s already enough going on without creating more trouble for yourself?’ She reached into her bag for her car keys. ‘Come on.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘I’m taking you home,’ she said.

She walked away, confident Jamie would follow her. His brief moment of bravado had been followed by obvious embarrassment, if the red flush of his neck and cheeks was anything to go by.

‘What about my car?’

‘You’ve got two choices,’ Alex said, turning back to him. ‘You can get back in that car and I’ll arrest you for driving under the influence, or you can get a lift home with me and find a way back up here tomorrow to collect it. Which will it be?’

Admitting defeat, Jamie sighed and followed her through the graveyard towards the main road.

‘Why didn’t you tell us before?’

‘Tell you what?’ he asked, trailing alongside her like a reprimanded schoolboy being taken to face the head teacher.

Alex stopped for a moment. ‘That you were the father of Keira’s baby.’

Jamie’s eyes dropped to the floor; Alex couldn’t tell whether through embarrassment or as an attempt to hide imminent tears. He shifted from one foot to the other. ‘I know how it would have made things look. You might have thought I’d killed her. I’d never have hurt her.’

Alex sighed and led him to the car. Once they were settled inside, she asked him about the extent of his relationship with Keira.

‘It was only once,’ he told her, ‘but the dates matched up. When I found out … I don’t know. A few things started to make sense, looking back. She went really awkward around me for a while after.’

‘She didn’t tell you about it?’

He shook his head. ‘I only found out when …’ He trailed off, unable to put her death into words. Alex understood. If you spoke something aloud, it made it real. Ignore it for long enough and it might go away. Only it never did. It festered and developed, usually evolving into something even more difficult to face.

‘Did Keira have any enemies that you know of, Jamie? Anyone who might have wanted to cause her harm?’

He looked at her questioningly, his face creased with a look of hurt. He’d apparently taken the suggestion personally. ‘No. No one. She was a kind girl. Everyone liked her. There was nothing not to like.’

‘What about Leah and Tom?’ Alex asked, realising that Jamie’s opinion of Keira was clouded in a mist of bias. ‘Know of any enemies either of them might have made?’

She couldn’t get her mind off what Chloe had said during the previous evening’s meeting. It made so much sense that someone might have pushed Keira thinking she was Leah, but if that did turn out to be the case, Alex was frustrated with herself for not having noticed the resemblance and the possibility sooner.

She was grateful that Chloe had, though. Someone needed to keep on top of things while her own focus was elsewhere.

‘Tom makes enemies like other people make cups of tea,’ Jamie told her. He’s not … he wasn’t the nicest of people, didn’t you notice?’ He looked at Alex as though trying to read her reactions. ‘You think I killed him, don’t you? I didn’t. I hated him, but I could never do that to anyone.’ There was a moment’s silence. ‘Keira slept with Tom, didn’t she?’

Alex didn’t respond to the question, keeping her eyes fixed on the road ahead.

‘It’s OK,’ Jamie said. ‘I know she did. He only did it to get at me. He’d never shown any interest in her before … It was only when he knew I liked her.’

Alex glanced at the boy sitting in the passenger seat beside her, his hands balled into fists in his lap. He had turned his face to the window, not wanting her to see him.

‘I did really like her,’ he said. ‘I might have loved her … I don’t know. I don’t really know what that’s supposed to feel like. But I’d have done the right thing by her and the baby, I know that. Why didn’t she tell me? If she’d told me, maybe none of this would have happened. Maybe she’d still be here and we’d be …’

His words fell short, silenced by a swell of stifled tears. He ran his sleeve across his face and kept his eyes fixed to the window, watching the landscape move past in a blur of green fields and blue sky.

Alex believed him. She believed that this young man – still little more than a boy himself – would have done the right thing by Keira and her daughter; or at the very least, he would have tried. It was a sad fact that in a world filled with Tom Stoddards and Leighton Matthewses, Jamie Batemans were few and far between.

Unless she’d got him wrong, she thought. And just how bad were the others really?

Increasingly it seemed to Alex that the true catalyst of harm in all this mess wasn’t any of these men.

It was Leah Cross.