For years, Liam Birch had been untarnished in her memory, an abstract version of a man, beautiful and wild, quixotic in his generosity to her. In the past few weeks, she had come to know another far less shiny version. He had been selfish, heedless and cruel. He had cheated on Danny while she lay in hospital with their newborn son. He had hurt people and hadn’t cared. As she stood and looked at the patch of ground where he had died, Jude held both of these men in her mind, all the contradictions that had made him squalid, beguiling and dangerous.

She walked on and the riding center came into view. Beyond it, the skating rink.

Skating. Jude stopped in her tracks and looked back at the way she had come—at the path that led from here to the murder site, and from there across the marshes to Liam’s house.

She forced herself to concentrate, to remember. She heard Danny saying crossly that Vin and Irina had promised to look after Alfie but hadn’t turned up.

I was going skating. It’s my thing. I go every Saturday afternoon with my sister, come rain or shine. We’ve done it for years.

What time had that been? Jude screwed up her eyes in the effort of remembering. Danny had asked her the time; Jude had looked at her mobile. Twenty to five: that was it. Danny had said if she didn’t hurry, she would miss her slot, had thrust Alfie into Jude’s arms, seized a torch and raced from the room.

Twenty to five. Presumably her slot would be something like between five and six.

When had Liam been killed? She didn’t know. She was sure that Leila Fox had never said. She knew that his body had been dragged off the path into the patch of brambles where it was found by a dog walker late on Saturday night.

Jude walked to the skating rink and stood at the entrance. She looked at the map on her phone, then pulled up walking directions to Liam’s house. She followed the instructions back along the path she had come from, and soon she was standing once more beside the forlorn shrine. It was the only route for Danny to take, every Saturday, come rain or shine. Right past the place Liam had been stabbed to death.

Jude walked all the way to the flat. By the time she arrived she had large soft blisters on the soles of her feet. She eased off her shoes, fed the cat and watered the plants. Then, before she even took off her damp grubby clothes or filled the kettle, she called Leila Fox.

“What time was Liam killed?”

There was a sigh at the other end of the phone.

“What are you up to now, Jude?”

“Do you have a time?”