Vera took the time for a half-hour power nap and a shower when she got back from Harbour Street. There was a change of clothes in her office, kept in case she was called suddenly to court, and she looked unusually smart when she joined Joe in the interview room. She could tell that he was impressed by the transformation. It was another cold, sunny day, hoar frost on the roofs outside the station window.

She hardly recognized Kate at first, she looked so lined and withered. The woman had aged overnight. Ryan was super-cool, lounging across the table, loving the attention. The court case would be a dream for him. All those years of being in his sister’s shadow, and now he’d be centre-stage. What made you different? Losing your dad when you were young? Watching him batter your mother? Or were you just born evil? The shrinks will have a field day.

Vera didn’t talk directly to the boy, but to his lawyer. Her way of showing Ryan that he wasn’t as important as he believed himself to be. ‘I hope your client is ready to cooperate, Mr Watson.’

The man nodded. She knew that he had teenage lads of his own. Was he wondering what his sons got up to when they weren’t at home?

Now she did turn to Ryan. ‘Let me tell you about that day in the Metro, the day you killed Margaret Krukowski. You’d bunked off school at lunchtime again, and gone into town to hook up with a mate and a couple of lasses from the posh school. I bet they thought they were so grown-up, going out with a dangerous moron like you. Thief, petty drug dealer and full-time scrote. I spoke to Emily Robertson, who was at St Anne’s too, and she knew all about you. You were one of the reasons she ended up in a place like the Haven. She saw you at the winter fair there and she freaked out big-style, asked to go back to the hospital rather than having to face you and your taunts.’

Vera paused before returning to the thread of the story. ‘So there you were, playing the lad about town, and who should catch on but Margaret Krukowski.’ Vera took another breath, watched the sun edge over the roof of the building opposite, and found that her mind was wandering. She’d be glad to get home. She’d ask her neighbours in for a drink. A big drink. They’d stay up and see Christmas Day in together. She didn’t fancy being alone tonight, dreaming of vulnerable women and violent men. Or perhaps Joe Ashworth would be let off the leash for an hour to come back with her.