‘I got a couple of daughters,’ he said, smiling again, trying to put her at ease. ‘One of them is about your age. You remind me of her, actually. They’re tough girls. They’re beautiful and loving and kind, and I’m so proud of them both, but they’re tough. I brought them up to be like that, because women get treated like shit, every day, all the time, which I always find ironic. Because whenever we bring couples in – the parents of kids who’ve been killed, or husband-and-wife teams who’ve robbed a bank, or abused children – it’s always the man that breaks first. Always. Men, they’re weak, that’s what I’ve come to learn doing this job. We cry first and we confess first.’

He wiped his eyes.

‘I guess I’m here proving my point, right?’ He dabbed his eyes again, forcing a smile. ‘In a week’s time, my wife’s not going to be around any more and, man, that’s just hurting me so much … It’s hurting me so much, I can barely even think straight …’

‘Is there anything I can do to help?’ Jo said.

Callson nodded, pointing to the file.

‘Find out who really killed that kid in the tub.’

‘Donald Klein is an LAPD case, Ray.’

‘You find out who killed that kid, you won’t need Klein, or the LAPD. That motel is in West Hollywood and that’s your patch. That’s all that matters here.’

She looked down at the file.

‘And you?’ she asked.

‘I’m just glad you landed this,’ he said, by way of a response.

‘Look, Ray, that’s kind of you, but you don’t even know me.’

‘I know enough,’ he replied, and glanced again at where Donald Klein had been found. ‘I should never have come back after I retired. I’ve been coasting in this job for too long. I can barely concentrate any more, barely even function. When I get home in the evenings, and I think of Georgette in that nursing home, I just get drunk and cry. I’m fucked, that’s the truth of it. I’m an old man, standing here, confessing everything to a woman I only met an hour ago. So I’m sorry you had to hear this. I’m sorry you had to be the one that was standing here when all this bullshit finally poured out of me. But you know what? I stopped believing in providence a long time ago. Maybe I stopped believing the first time I ever turned up to a crime scene and saw the damage one person could inflict upon another, and then I definitely stopped believing when Georgette got sick. It’s hard to believe in divine government when the person you love doesn’t even recognize you. But you landing this case, of all the cases you could have landed …’

Jo stared at him.