Jack nodded. “Talking of building, tell me about John Maynard.”

Connie blushed slightly, but still chose to look him straight in the eyes as she responded.

“My, my, you have been doing your homework. I was a twenty-something woman stuck in the middle of nowhere with a bunch of other women so, yes, me and John had a bit of a thing. Have you got my mugshot from back then, DC Warr?” she teased. “I was a good catch, don’t you think? Even in a photo taken under your harsh police station strip lights.” Connie sat up straight and leaned toward Jack. “When a lady’s got no one to look good for, Jack, this happens. John was nice. Before him, I was with Lennie—he’d beat me senseless, quite randomly. Training, he called it.” She looked at him with her gentle smile and her dimples, and he could see tears pooling in the bottom lids of her striking, pale blue eyes. “What were those dogs called that were trained to think about food every time they heard a bell ring? Have I got that right?”

“Pavlov’s dogs.”

“That’s them. Within a couple of months of being with Lennie, he’d stopped hitting me—but every time he walked into the room I’d shake, and sweat, and my heart would beat out of my chest. The memory of the beatings was enough by then, you see. That’s what kept me in my place. The fear.” A tear rolled down Connie’s cheek. She put her hands flat on her knees and pushed down slightly, as if trying to contain her emotions. “That’s why I like being here. Nobody knows I’m weak and nobody wants to take advantage of me—not now I’m past my prime and on the big side. I can just be on my own and be me and I like that.”

As Jack watched Connie’s chubby fingers wipe away the tears from her chubby cheeks, he thought she looked like a little girl. She stared out across the Blackdown Hills and tucked a stray blonde curl behind her ear. Her wet eyelashes glistened in the early evening sun and Jack felt that he should hug her, or put a hand on her shoulder, or something.

“I’ve not seen John since the day Dolly was shot. I don’t miss him. I don’t miss any of them.”

Jack’s mobile rang; he excused himself and stepped away to answer it.

With his back to her, Connie lifted her hands an inch or two off her knees. Her skirt was damp from where her palms had been, and her hands shook now that they were unsupported. Jack hung up and Connie quickly put her hands back down on her knees to stop the shaking.

“Thank you for your time, Miss Stephens. My boss is wondering where I am, so I’ll have to go. And thank you for the water.”

“My pleasure.” Connie stood and picked up the two glasses. “Have you got a car somewhere or do you need a lift?”