‘Hello,’ he says. ‘Today is clearly my lucky day. Please sit down.’ As he reaches out his hand, the chains around his wrists clink together. ‘Already regret coming to visit me?’ He shrugs good-naturedly. ‘Fair enough.’

‘Sorry.’ Immediately cursing herself for apologising, she sits in the chair opposite Isabelle’s killer. She has seen footage and photos of him—the truth is, she devoured everything she could find about him online when he was arrested—but in person he looks younger than she expected. He’s attractive, his features symmetrical except for his nose, which bends roguishly to the left. A small bruise blossoms on his temple, but other than that his tawny skin is clear.

She has a strange urge to ask how he is, but he gets in first. ‘How are you, Miss Journalist?’ He looks amused. ‘No, don’t tell me. You’re trying to get inside the mind of a killer? Grappling with good old nature and nurture?’ He laughs, revealing straight beige teeth. ‘Am I on the right track?’

‘No.’ Her hair swings forward as she rests her elbows on the table. ‘I want to know how you knew where Isabelle Yardley was going to be the morning you killed her.’

Bouris cocks his head. ‘Righto, we’re playing that game, are we? Right, right.’ He strokes his stubble, his gaze piercing. ‘We had a special bond, Yardley and me. I could sense she was going to be there.’

Fury bursts like a dam inside Oli. ‘Bullshit.’

‘Okay, fine.’ He traces his finger across the table. ‘I followed her. You haven’t done your homework, you naughty girl.’

‘I know what you said in court—I just don’t believe you. I think she would have noticed if an amateur like you was following her, especially that early in the morning.’

He throws his weight back against his chair, his face sullen.

They sit in silence for a few moments. Tingles run up and down Oli’s limbs. ‘I think someone told you Isabelle was going to be there.’ She almost chokes on the words. ‘And I want to know who it was.’

He eyes her with renewed curiosity. ‘She was a friend of yours?’

‘Just tell me,’ Oli says through gritted teeth. ‘What have you got to lose now?’

‘I’m a man of my word.’ He crosses his arms.

She stands, pushing back her chair, her legs shaky. She can’t tell if he’s messing with her or not.

‘Your perfect detective friend wasn’t so perfect, you know.’

‘What do you mean?’

He shrugs. ‘Just that. Perhaps you didn’t know her as well as you think you did.’

Oli has an urge to laugh before her hands start to shudder uncontrollably. ‘If you’re not going to tell me, there’s no point me being here.’ She takes a few steps backwards, wanting to keep her eyes on him.