‘Well, let me tell you, I can, because I’ve been over it a thousand times in my mind. I go over it every time I close my eyes to try and sleep or just sit in a place like this with a cup of tea. But since I pulled that trigger I feel different – better. That bastard finally got what he deserved. He knew who I was too. You should have seen his eyes. Fear, Glenn! He was terrified of me. Why would he be so scared? I tell you why: he knew who I was and he knew what he had done to me, and he knew that there would be no more saving his own skin.’

Glenn was still shaking his head. ‘I don’t know what you want me to say, mate. I don’t know why you would tell me either.’

‘Because I wanted to tell someone. I can’t tell Colin, he wouldn’t understand. If I kept it to myself then the police will write off another suicide and this man just disappears for ever, like it never happened, like I never did what I did. Like I never took care of it. But I did. Telling you means I did.’ Richard waited until Glenn met his gaze. ‘And there’s no one else in the world I trust more than you.’

Chapter 31

Joel sat at his own dining-room table. The look and smell were familiar, as was the sound of his youngest daughter bundling past him to put her favourite television show on, asking his wife for a biscuit only to be told that dinner wasn’t far away.

He sat in the standard bustle. But it felt different, almost like he was sitting in someone else’s place entirely. In his daze he looked around to pick out the little homely touches they had gradually added since they extended the back of the house last year.

The sight of Hannah Ribbons, his fallen colleague, still weighed heavy on his mind, as did the conversation that had followed with DS Rose. Joel needed an ally, someone he could work with, be honest with and talk to about feeling the pressure, like he had been thrown in at the deep end. Instead DS Rose had made it quite clear that she was there to be sure the pressure only increased.

It wasn’t just his new colleague who was proving to be difficult either. The source unit had totally closed shop. Even Debbie Marsden wasn’t expecting to get any information out of there until Monday at the earliest. It seemed so ridiculous to him: here was the man tasked with finding who had murdered one of their own and they were withholding key information.

His wife put a cup of tea down in front of him to shake him from his musing.