Jo returned her attention to Vale’s mother and could see the worry already forming in her face, stark as neon. ‘I have a case,’ Jo said softly, trying not to set off any alarms before Vale had even got here, ‘and it might be one that Adrian can help me with. That’s all.’ She smiled at Valeria reassuringly and, in the silence that followed, Jo thought of the phone call she’d had with the anonymous woman three days ago.

‘Why would you call Vale a “monster”?’

‘Because that’s what he is. The thing is, though, not many people have seen that side of him. In high school, mostly he was just this quiet, book-nerd loner.’

‘You were in high school with him?’

‘Yeah, but I didn’t know him. I didn’t know him at all. That’s the point. No one did. He was good-looking, crazy smart, but he’d always just go about by himself, listening to music, reading, all that sort of shit. He was polite, would always talk to you if you talked to him, but he never had any friends, far as I could tell. He was never at any of the parties we went to. I never saw him out at all, ever. I bet no one he went to school with could tell you a damn thing about him – except for Martina.’

‘Who’s Martina?’

‘She’s the girl whose life he destroyed.’

Valeria Vale moved in her armchair, coming forward to the table where she’d left a glass of water for herself. She looked at Jo. ‘Is it something to do with the law?’

‘I’m sorry?’

‘Is Adrian going to help with your case?’

Jo was touched by the woman’s naivety, the absolute faith she had in her son, the love she carried for him, and felt distressed at the thought of having to crush it in her home.

‘I think it’s easier if I just talk to Adrian, Mrs Vale.’

‘Si,’ she said. ‘Of course. I’m sorry.’

‘Not a problem.’

‘I’m so proud of him, that’s all.’ She paused, looking at Jo, a flicker of emotion in her face. ‘He’s never had it easy. He’s had to fight for everything. His father and I, we never had any money. We arrived in this country with just the clothes on our backs. We never took Adrian on vacation … It was hard.’ She blinked, let out a breath. ‘Adrian’s father, he was …’ She stopped again. An alcoholic.

Jo nodded. ‘He died in 1979, is that correct?’

‘That’s right.’

‘And he worked for a building supplies company?’

‘Si. The same one, for ten years.’