She ran out of breath. She always talked too much. The police had this habit of making her feel guilty, of wanting to confess her sins. When she was growing up, officers of the law were treated with courtesy and respect. Times had changed, but that didn’t mean she had to.

“Is your husband in?” said the lady officer. “We’d like a quick word with him, too, if that’s possible.”

“He’s in the garden,” said Audrina, lifting herself unsteadily out of the wheelchair. “Come on through.”

Cooper was putting his tools away in the shed. Night was falling fast. Five minutes ago, she could pick out every detail of his weathered face, but now he was a smudge in the textured air.

Audrina half listened as they asked Cooper the same set of questions they always asked when a body turned up. Her husband was leaning on his fork, frowning and nodding, talking in serious tones. A jolt of pride surprised her.

In his capacity as neighborhood watch coordinator, Cooper’s view was frequently sought. He’d acquired a sort of godlike status after tracking down the culprit behind a recent spate of burglaries. During the window of time that spanned the afternoon school run, he’d noticed a stranger lurking on the street and carried out a citizen’s arrest. Which made the police’s lack of competence all the more shocking when one thought about it. Five lives taken and still no trace of the killer.

“The name Stanton does sound familiar,” he was saying. “Dark hair, shortish?”

“Yes,” said Wildeve, a trembling excitement making her voice rise. “That sounds like him.”

He took a pipe from his breast pocket, packed tobacco into its bowl. “He came by early yesterday. Had a cup of tea and a slice of Audrina’s famous Dundee cake.” He put the pouch away. “He wanted to talk to everyone on the street again, to see if anyone had seen any odd behavior near the entrance to Blatches Woods.”

“What time was this? Did he say where he was going? Who he was going to see next?” The words tumbled from her.

Cooper struck a match and lit his pipe. The smell of his smoke was her childhood.

“About ten. He said he was on his way to talk to Trefor Lovell. Number thirty-two.”

“Thank you,” she breathed.

They left Cooper smoking his pipe and tidying his tools while Audrina escorted them back to the front door.