When the Lowthers arrived at West Street next day, Fry showed them into the DI’s office, where they sat in an uncomfortable silence. Hitchens swivelled his chair once, then stopped when he heard the squeal and looked embarrassed.

Fry found a seat to one side, out of the Lowthers’ immediate view. But it was her that Moira Lowther was looking at when she spoke. ‘You weren’t listening, were you? I told you John wasn’t a danger to anyone but himself. He was psychotic, not a psychopath. I told you, but you didn’t listen.’

Fry didn’t know how to answer her. According to Cooper, Dr Sinclair had said the same thing. And it seemed they had both been right.

‘Our officers did their best to save your son’s life,’ said Hitchens with a placatory gesture. ‘It was a very difficult situation.’

‘You were pursuing him.’

‘No, Mrs Lowther.’

‘She was.’

The jerk of the head was insulting, but Fry stayed calm.

‘DS Fry wasn’t even at the scene when the incident happened,’ said Hitchens.

‘What about the officers who were there? Why can’t we speak to them?’

‘There’ll be a full enquiry into the circumstances, I assure you.’

Fry and Hitchens exchanged glances. The enquiry wouldn’t be comfortable, and these things often left a sour taste – personal grievances, doubts about where loyalties lay, and whether officers could depend on the support of their chiefs. But it all had to be done properly and above board.

‘We’ll keep you to that promise,’ said Mrs Lowther.

‘Of course.’

Fry could still feel herself being glared at. ‘We questioned John as part of the investigation into your daughter’s death,’ she said. ‘We were trying to cover every possibility, that’s all.’

‘It’s ridiculous. John would never do anything like that. They were so close. As close as a brother and sister could be.’ Mrs Lowther choked on the last word. ‘And now we’ve lost both of them.’

Cringing at the onset of tears and the threat of full-blown hysterics lurking below the surface, Fry looked at Hitchens for support. In a storm, you clutched at any straw.

‘Mr and Mrs Lowther, I can’t tell you how sorry we are,’ he said. ‘Believe me, if there’s anything at all we can do –’

Henry Lowther had been sitting rigid and furious, his tension showing only in the trembling of his hands and the throbbing of a small vein in his temple.

‘Anything you can do?’ he said, his voice an ominous whisper. ‘Don’t you think you’ve done enough to us already?’

Cooper couldn’t help looking for the Lowthers’ Rover in the visitors’ car park that morning. Sure enough, they’d already arrived. He could see their car in front of the main entrance as he pulled up to the gates of the compound.