‘Have you found who did it?’ he whispers.

‘Not yet,’ I admit to the top of his head, ‘but we’re working on it. Please take as much time as you need to get your head around it. When you are feeling up to it, would you mind answering some questions? It would help us with our investigation.’

He nods again.

‘Can I have a few minutes alone please?’ he asks. ‘Then I’ll answer any questions, I’ll do anything I can to help.’

‘Of course,’ I reply. ‘Stay here, as long as you need. We’ll be outside when you are ready.’

The radiator in the interview room has been left on too long. I can feel beads of sweat form on my scalp and make their way down my forehead. The room is small, almost oppressively so; sometimes a useful psychological tool during interrogations with savvy, tight-lipped criminals. There is no clock, no window; no way to judge the passing of time. A low table, currently holding 3 plastic cups of water, separates Rory from Liam and me.

‘Thanks for doing this Rory; anything you can tell us could be useful in helping to catch the responsible party. We’re going to record this, standard procedure,’ I say, noticing his eyes dart to the camera in the corner of the interview room. ‘If you want to stop at any stage, please say so. Remember, you are here voluntarily.’

Without looking at us, he nods, his glassy eyes fixed on a point on the table. His shoulders rise and fall in a steady rhythm, like his body is on autopilot. His suit jacket is draped over the back of his chair and a tuft of hair is showing over the top of his open collared shirt. He looks like he has aged ten years in the past hour.

‘Commencing interview with Rory Knox. Present are Detective Sergeant Liam Sutton and Detective Inspector Erika Piper. Interview conducted at,’ Liam pulls up his shirt sleeve to check his watch, ‘13:33 on Saturday the first of December 2019. Rory Knox has declined the offer of legal representation. He is here of his own free will.’ Liam gives him a reassuring nod. ‘Rory, please can you tell us about your relationship with Anna Symons?’

‘Yeah… we met, uh,’ he looks up, time travelling in his head, ‘seven years ago. She was doing some filming in the park near my work. I happened to walk past during my lunch break and saw her mid-scene. I waited in the small crowd that had gathered and watched her; I couldn’t take my eyes off her. When the scene ended, our eyes met. There was this instant electricity. I pointed to a nearby bench and she nodded.’

He smiles, a welcome memory amongst the current chaos.

‘I didn’t think she’d actually come, but eventually she did. We introduced ourselves and talked for a while but I needed to get back to work, I was already late. Took a bollocking for it but it was worth it. We arranged to meet up later that day, when she was done. We met in the city and went for a few drinks. And the rest, as they say, is history.’