‘The men I work with, a lot of them are corrupt, most of them are racist, and all of them are out for their own. It’s about whatever they can get for themselves first, and solving crimes second. I knew it before I retired and came back, and I definitely know it now.’ He glanced at the view again, as if drawn to it, but all Jo could do was stare at him, transfixed, shocked by his words. ‘You know, sometimes you can come to a place like this and the air is so unexpectedly still, so clear, that for a while you can forget all about the imperfections, all the shit that makes your life less bright than it should be. On a morning like this, it’s easy to see that beauty in so many things, and see it with absolute clarity: the colour of the sky, the warmth of the sun on your skin before it gets too hot, the immensity of a view like this, the purity of the sound. You can see it all, and you’re suddenly as far away from the pain in your life as it’s possible to get.’ He stopped. ‘But it never lasts long.’

Jo didn’t know how to respond to that.

To any of it.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, holding up a hand to Jo, and for the first time she could see something else: he had tears in his eyes. ‘I know I’m making you uncomfortable. I’m sorry. This is so unprofessional.’ He took a long, deep breath. ‘It’s just … it’s my wife.’

Jo took a step forward. ‘What about her?’

He swallowed, tried to blink the tears away.

‘Ray?’

‘She’s dying,’ he said. ‘She has Alzheimer’s.’

‘Shit, I’m so sorry.’

‘They reckon she maybe has a week left.’

‘Shit,’ Jo said, the word like an exhalation, ‘that’s terrible, Ray,’ and as she took another step towards Callson, drawn to the sadness flowing out of him, she spun back to this morning, to the drive in, and of her final thought before she’d got to the office.

It didn’t matter how much you loved a person.

Eventually, you had to let them go.

Callson forced a smile. ‘I’ve made a fool of myself.’

‘No,’ Jo said, stopping short of him, uncertain if she should reach out and offer him a hand. In the end she did, squeezing him above the elbow, and he smiled at her again. ‘Shouldn’t you be where your wife is?’ she said. ‘Don’t you want to be with her?’

‘My girls are there,’ he replied softly. ‘I’ll go after this.’

They stood there for a moment, the sun baking the mud, the grass, the hills. From their left, a couple were approaching, a black Labrador running ahead of them.