Max lets out a steady breath. ‘I managed to track down some of the people who Ian was friendly with in his early thirties, before he, sort of, went missing. You’ll know from the podcast that I revealed he worked in the steel industry. They all said the same thing that he wasn’t too keen on hanging out outside of work, and only came to very few work events; he seemed to them to be a bit of an introvert, although he was pleasant enough to deal with in the office. They told me they spoke to the police about this at the time, but they were only questioned about Ian a couple of times, I s’pose the police thought there wasn’t much for them to pursue.’

‘D’you know how he met my parents?’ I ask, keeping an eye on the time; Emma normally gets back just after five, another forty minutes away, we’ve got plenty of time. I flick my gaze back at Max.

He sighs. ‘I still didn’t quite get to the bottom of where they met. I asked the people Ian knew and they didn’t know either; it’s why it came as such a huge shock to them when his name was revealed by the police, they hadn’t heard from him in years. It was only seeing his photo in the press that made them remember him. One thing I did find interesting, is that bearing in mind he’d been working in the same job for more than ten years, all of a sudden he left, with no explanation, he didn’t even hand in his resignation. They tried to get in contact with him, but he blocked all their calls.’

I study this piece of information inside my mind. Could this have been around the same time he met my parents? ‘So there was no sign, at all that he was intending on leaving his job?’ I ask trying to think if any other news reports have covered this, but nothing springs to mind.

Max shakes his head. ‘They all told me he was a lot quieter in the weeks leading up to it, they all just assumed something was going on in his family life and that he didn’t want to talk about it.’

‘But did he have any family?’ I ask.

Max opens the blue folder and flicks through the pages, I catch glimpses of pictures, scrawled writing on pages; these are the notes he must’ve made when he was investigating for the podcast. I spot a picture of the house where my parents were killed, I look away. ‘I think he might’ve have had one parent still alive, but they’ll be dead by now, he had no brothers or sisters who I’m aware of. Do you mind me asking what your brother spoke to you about?’ Max asks. 

I bite down hard on my lip. ‘I wanted him to tell me why he did what he did all those years ago. It’s been hell for me growing up knowing everyone in the country knows about my family. He, he didn’t say anything new to me, he just . . .’ I'm no sure exactly what to say to Max. I don't want to tell him everything. 

‘I’m sorry, if you think I might’ve played a part in that, Danielle,’ Max says. ‘But I can assure you I have only ever dealt with the facts; I’ve never given the conspiracy theorists time of day and whenever people discuss the different theories on my Facebook page, I always shut the comments down.’

I nod; tears prickle the corners of my eyes, blurring my vision. ‘He told me to go to this address, this place in Essex. I’ve since been told this is the place where I was born. I also found out, how true it is, I don’t know, that Ian got it into my parents heads that they needed to leave, I still don’t know why though, this was three weeks before the murders.’

Max is staring at me, eyes wide. He’s probably wishing he could interview me for his podcast, I’m pretty sure that would end up sending his ratings sky high. I look into my lap. There’s no way I’m doing that, even if he suddenly thinks it’s a good idea.

‘This is some scary stuff, um, do you have any memories from that time at all, before your parents were killed?’ he asks.

‘There are snatches of things. I can remember hiding in the wardrobe the day my brother murdered my parents; there are memories of me playing in this garden, which I’m pretty sure is the garden at the house, where Harvey told me to go to, and memories of Harvey reading to me, but I’ve never been sure if they’re real. I went to this place at the weekend, it was quite weird; they all seemed really pleased to see me and wanted me to stay.’

Max leans forward in his seat. ‘Danielle, I would urge you to be really careful here. These people may claim to be like your family, but they sound dangerous. I’ve already told you about what happened to me, and now I think it might’ve been them who threatened me.’

I think of Oliver and Jeremiah. Would they really have threatened Max just because of his podcast?

‘I don’t know what to do. I want to get to the bottom of what happened to my family so badly, but . . .’

‘I can only imagine how difficult this must be for you,’ Max says. ‘Look, when I was speaking to various people about the case, before the threatening letters started arriving, I spoke to a police officer who worked on the investigation. He’d recently been let go by the force due to some sort of misconduct, which I think made him quite angry. He was quite willing to talk to me when I spoke to him, turns out he was a fan of my podcast, but God could he drink.’

‘What did he say to you?’ I ask the back of my neck prickling.

‘He . . . look, Danielle, he could’ve just been spouting lies because of the way how he was treated, but . . . he told me that the DNA of an unidentified person was recovered from the scene at the house the night your parents were murdered. It was compared to the owner of the house, but it wasn’t a match. No one else was known to have visited your family while they were staying there during those three weeks.’

I swallow. Jesus. There are sweat patches forming underneath Max’s arms now.

‘What else did they do to look into this?’ I ask.

Max shakes his head. ‘Not a lot, they had your brother’s confession that was what they needed to successfully wrap the case up.’

‘What about this police officer though who spoke to you, d’you know what happened to him?’ I ask.

‘Sorry, but I think he ended up going off the rails, that’s why I would take what he’s said with a pinch of salt, Danielle. I haven’t tried contacting him since then. But the DNA could’ve been from anyone, I think there were reports that before your family moved in, people used to break into that house, particularly teenagers.’

He can’t expect me to just put it to the back of my mind. I shake my head.

‘And this is everything, there’s nothing you haven’t told me,’ I ask, my voice trembling.

He sighs. ‘I wish I could be of more help, Danielle, but please . . . I’m not sure what it is you’re thinking of planning, but please be careful.’

I smile. ‘Don’t worry, I will,’ I say. ‘Thank you for talking to me.’

‘I’m here for you if you need me,’ he says. ‘If there’s anything you want to talk to me about.’

‘Sure, thanks, anyway, I think I better get going.’ I want to get off the call now.

‘Stay safe, Danielle,’ Max says.

The call ends. I get up from my seat and drift out of the living room and into the kitchen, my head swimming. I grip hold of the edge of the kitchen work surface, before throwing up in the sink.