Niall leans over to touch her shoulder. ‘What? What happened? We need to know, c’mon.’

Ann-Marie’s face changes. ‘There was meant to be a plan. Diane was going to meet me after. We invited him to her house first. It all went wrong.’

Not knowing what else to say, he shakes his head and says, ‘I’m so sorry. C’mon now.’

She is quiet. Her fist tightens around what she is holding in her hand.

The two Irish wolfhounds stand at the top of the drive, looking down towards them.

‘Ann-Marie, if you can, tell me. Who is it? Be clear. Nothing bad is going to happen to you.’

Ann-Marie nods her head. ‘There was this story. About a dog with a leg in its mouth. I drove him away. It was … him. The guy I was looking for.’

‘Take your time,’ Niall says, trying to encourage her, sitting back in his seat to give her space.

‘Uh-huh,’ she says, still nodding her head. She swallows. ‘It’s hard to talk about.’

‘Look, I’m not following. You went to Diane’s after I left you that night and … Who did this to you? Tell me.’

‘He wasn’t like I thought. Diane knew him better, at the Black Horse. I had this idea that he would meet us for a drink and a smoke and we would record him talking. Secretly. Diane said he liked to talk. Show off. She thought he was arrogant, so I was nervous. But he was so nice. I was convinced we had something wrong. We started talking about his band; he wouldn’t stop talking about it. He said we should go and see him some time, at a ceilidh that was happening. He liked that we were interested in Christine and said he had his own theories, about his old PE teacher – you know, Alan Mackie. He told me how he really admired me. For caring about Christine. He said he thought Alan Mackie was guilty. And that he used to know her really well too, like I did. I felt sorry for him. And that – I’m sorry, Niall – that you were his friend and you didn’t know how well he and Christine knew each other. He got his friend to rent her a room, for her therapy.’

He slams the heels of his hands against the steering wheel, making the truck shudder. ‘Sandy Ross. Are you telling me it was him?’ It is too much to take in. ‘She didn’t know him.’ The few times they met flash through his mind. He remembers how he and Sandy became friends in the years after she went missing.

Her voice is low. ‘He said he could show me where he thought she was buried.’

For a few minutes he is paralysed, his brain working too fast and then too slowly. Violent thoughts crawl over him.