Banks said nothing. He sensed Annie glance at him.

Wells leaned forward and rested his forearms on the table. “You can’t choose the object of your desire. You know you can’t. It may be a cliché to say that love is blind, but like many clichés, it’s not without a grain of truth. I didn’t choose to love Steven. I simply couldn’t help myself.”

Banks had heard this argument before from pedophiles—that they weren’t responsible for their desires, that they didn’t choose to love little boys—and he had at least a modicum of sympathy for their predicament. After all, it wasn’t only pedophiles who fell in love with the wrong people. But he didn’t feel enough sympathy to condone their actions. “I’m sure you are aware,” he said, “that it’s illegal for a thirty-eight-year-old man to initiate a sexual relationship with a thirteen-year-old boy, and that it’s inappropriate for a teacher to be involved in any way with a pupil, even if that pupil did happen to be over the age of consent, which Steven wasn’t.”

“There was no sexual relationship. Steven lied. They made him do it. I never touched him.”

“That’s as may be,” said Banks. “You might not have been able to help your feelings, but you could have controlled your actions. I think you know right from wrong.”

“It’s all so hypocritical,” Wells said.

“What do you mean?”

“Who says there can be no real love between youth and age? The Greeks didn’t think so.”

“Society,” said Banks. “The law. And it’s not the love we legislate against. The law’s there to protect the innocent and the vulnerable from those predators who should know better.”

“Ha! It shows how little you know. Who do you think was the vulnerable one here, the innocent one? Steven Farrow? Do you think just because a boy is of a certain tender age that he is incapable of manipulating his elders, incapable of blackmail? That’s very naive of you, if you don’t mind my saying so.”

“Luke Armitage,” Annie cut in.

Wells leaned back and licked his lips. He was sweating profusely, Banks noticed, and starting to smell sour and rank. “I wondered when we’d be getting around to him.”

“That’s why you’re here, Norman. Did you think it was about Steven Farrow?”

“I’d no idea what it would be about. I haven’t done anything wrong.”

“The Farrow affair’s all water under the bridge. Hushed up. No charges, no serious damage done.”

“Except to me.”

“You were among the last people to see Luke Armitage on the day he disappeared, Norman,” Annie went on. “When we found out about your past, isn’t it only natural that we should want to talk to you about him?”

“I know nothing about what happened to him.”

“But you were friends with him, weren’t you?”

“Acquaintances. He was a customer. We talked about books sometimes. That’s all.”

“He was an attractive boy, wasn’t he, Norman? Like Steven Farrow. Did he remind you of Steven?”