‘I’m sorry, Kate. You’re right. What else can I say? I know we’re different, but most of the time we’re on the same wavelength. I’ve had to rethink a lot of life in the last few months. Like when I sold the massage parlours . . .’ He paused to pull on his cigarette. ‘I should never have taken you there tonight, I see that now. Even if you wasn’t an Old - I mean a DI - you’re not geared up for that type of thing. Renée wasn’t, either. All I can say in my defence is . . .’ He turned to face her. ‘It’s been a long time since I had a woman who didn’t just go along with whatever I wanted to do.’

Kate searched his face in the darkness, she could make out his features, and her eyes caressed them one by one. He kissed her lightly on the lips and it was like an electric shock going through her body. ‘I’m not sorry for being what I am, Kate, let’s get that straight now. I’m apologising for not thinking about you and what you must be feeling. Does that make sense?’

Kate nodded.

‘Well then, give us a proper kiss.’

He pulled Kate into his arms and kissed her hard on the mouth.

As they broke apart, Kate saw a head look in at the window.

‘Is everything all right, sir?’

Neither of them had noticed the Panda car pull up behind them.

‘Yes, thank you, officer, everything’s fine. We’re just going.’

Kate smiled at the officer and as Patrick pulled out of the layby she put her hand over his on the steering wheel.

‘I don’t want us to fight, Pat.’

‘Let’s just forget abut all this. Now, how about some food? What do you fancy? Italian, French, Spanish, chinky, what?’

Kate laughed. ‘How about an Indian?’

‘Trust you to say the one food I missed out! Tell you what, how about we skip the meal and just go home to bed?’

‘No way.’

Patrick sighed. ‘It was worth a try.’

Kate squeezed his hand gently. ‘I never go to bed on an empty stomach.’

Suddenly she wanted him so badly she could taste it. She felt him put his foot down on the accelerator.

‘Willy told you not to gun the car.’

He glanced at her and smiled.

‘Willy didn’t say anything about emergencies.’

Much later, as she lay beside him, the smell of him in her nostrils and the laziness that rough lovemaking brings enveloping her, she pondered her situation.

The warm loving individual beside her would murder the Grantley Ripper at the drop of a hat. He was capable of murder, she knew that. He had never made any secret of it.

Yet still she wanted him.