“No shortage of stories in this city—I’ve heard alibis that were harder to swallow.”

She smiled. “I was a teacher for a while, same as Tom, except primary school. Used to love telling my class a folk tale. Once you had their attention, you kept it.” Her voice trailed off. He knew she was thinking of her daughter again; doubted Sally was ever out of her thoughts for more than a few minutes at a time on any given day. She kept threatening to place her glass on the table, but it hadn’t quite happened yet. It was almost reduced to ice in any case.

“Get you another?” Rebus asked.

“My turn.”

“I’m fine,” he said, having hardly touched the pint. “Got the car outside, and this isn’t my first tonight.”

She decided to have another drink anyway, reaching into her bag for money. Rebus played with a beer mat while he waited for her to return.

“So, anyway,” she said, squeezing around the table and sitting down again, “you’ve managed to unearth the files on those other poor women?”

“The records aren’t as complete as I’d like.” He saw her look. “It happens—things get mislaid; notes that should have been written up aren’t…”

“Oh.”

“Not that there were gaps in Sally’s case,” he sought to reassure her.

“Is there any possibility that I…? No, I suppose not.” She lowered her eyes.

“I doubt they’d come as any consolation. You might find them a bit…”

“Upsetting?”

“I was going to say ‘cold.’ Nobody working the case knew Sally, you see.”

She nodded her understanding. “You’re trying to protect me.”

“I’m not sure I’d put it like that.”

They focused on their drinks for a minute. Rebus didn’t know what else to say to her. He didn’t like to think of her as being trapped in limbo, but that’s where she was. The past had its grip on her and wasn’t letting go. He worked with the past, too, but he could always put it back in a box and have it delivered to a storeroom or warehouse.

“Is there a draft?” he asked.

“I don’t think so.”

“Thought you were shivering.”

“It happens sometimes. You know that saying about someone walking over your grave?”

“Never really understood it, though.”

“Now you come to mention it, I’m not sure I understand it either. Sure you don’t want another?”

“Trying to get me arrested for drunk-driving?”

“Couldn’t you talk your way out of it?”

“Not these days.”