I look at him, the sound of his fake laugh still hanging in the air. The aura of self-confidence around him cracks. The arrogance of the man is a pathetic act. This has never been about The Chronicle or my colleagues at all. Nor has it been about not rocking the boat and upsetting the good people of Derry. This is about him covering something up. I’d bet my life on it.

He is not, I realise, the man I thought him to be.

‘Ryan,’ I say. ‘Fuck you and fuck your job. I quit.’

It’s my calmness that rattles him. I can see the confusion on his face.

I grab my bag from his desk and turn to leave. Just as I reach for the door, he reaches out and grabs my wrist, tries to yank me back towards him. I feel my skin twist and bruise. My mind flashes to how Jen had rubbed at her own wrist at the front door. This man is nothing but a liar and a bully. I can’t believe it has taken me so long to see it.

‘You’re making a big mistake,’ he hisses, his face twisted.

‘What are you going to do, Ryan? Smash the windows of my car in? Break into my flat? Slash my tyres? If you don’t let go of me right now, I swear I will scream as loud as I can until Jen wonders what the hell is going on up here.

‘When she comes up to see what all the fuss is about, I will describe in detail to her how you fucked me over this very desk when she was away for the weekend with the boys. I will tell her all the times you’ve had your way with me in her home. How we did it on her precious kitchen island, where she is baking you a fucking cake right now. Do you understand?’

He releases his grip, hisses at me that I’m a fucking bitch and that I’m not to say I wasn’t warned. I storm out of his house without so much as calling goodbye and get into my car.

I am flooded with adrenaline. How wide does this mess spread? How many people have been lying all these years? How deep will I have to dig to find the truth? Because I’m determined I will find it.

Chapter Thirty-Nine

Ingrid

There are a number of things I could do. I could drive up to Coleraine now, try to find the spot on the train line where Jamesy Harte’s body was discovered. I could drive to Portstewart and see if I can see in his bedsit, although I imagine it will be taped off as a possible crime scene. I have no contacts in the PSNI in Portstewart to bend the rules for me and let me in. So I decide both of those are a non-starter.