‘Look at her family group. Five siblings and a football team of nieces and nephews. Obviously a close sibling group. A man as controlling as this wants his victim to be isolated, not at the heart of an intimate family group.’

‘We don’t know that they’re close,’ Carol objected.

‘We don’t, that’s true. It’s a reasonable assumption, though. But even if they weren’t, the killer I have in mind wouldn’t acknowledge their existence. He wouldn’t include them in the death notice at all. No, Carol –’ he stabbed the photocopies with a finger – ‘check this out. No death notice. No quote from the grieving widower.’

‘Maybe he was too grief-stricken.’

Tony shrugged. ‘It’s possible. But look at this photo. She’s strung as tight as a bow string.’

‘Some people don’t like having their photographs taken.’

‘She’s posing with her kids. Most women are so concerned about how the kids are coming across and whether they’re behaving that they lose their own self-consciousness. I think she’s anxious. I’d go so far as to say scared. That’s the kind of expression you see on the faces of victims of abuse. Terrified of putting a foot wrong, of provoking the rage that’s always just round the corner.’

‘I think you’re reading a lot into a photograph.’ Without even thinking about it, Carol had fallen back into her old patterns with Tony. She was the test-bed for his ideas. He threw them at her and she poked them and prodded them and pronounced them fit for purpose. Or not.

‘It’s one small part of a bigger picture, Carol. Who sets off after eleven at night with two small children to drive to York? To visit parents who are definitely past the first flush of youth and probably like to be tucked up in bed by then?’

‘It says there. She wanted to miss the traffic.’

‘If you want to miss the traffic, you leave at eight, not eleven,’ Tony scoffed. ‘You set off at eleven in the car with the kids because you’re in fear for your life.’

There was a pause while Carol considered his words. Finally, she said, ‘It’s a long shot.’

His shoulders slumped. ‘It’s always a bloody long shot. But it’s paid off more often than I have any right to expect. Carol, I’m penned up in this bloody awful place. I’m accused of two murders that I didn’t commit. If long shots are all I have, I’ll take them.’

‘I understand that. But it’s probably whistling in the dark.’