‘So do I,’ Duggan said. ‘But not the way you’re telling it.’

‘And do you remember what was in the car?’

‘I remember,’ Duggan said. ‘I’m not stupid. I’ve not forgotten those days. Even if the rest of the country has.’

‘No one’s forgotten them.’

‘Of course they have,’ Duggan said. ‘We were soldiers sent out to fight and when the war was over, we were the villains. People apologising for things we did, things we were told to do by them. “That should never have happened.” What the fuck does that mean? The things that happened, they happened exactly the way they were meant to. Like this. This bullshit, going back here.’

‘It’s the right thing to do,’ Barr said, feeling it was the only part of the conversation to which he could make a contribution.

‘That’s easy for you to say, son, it’s not your bullets lodged in whatever’s left resting in that hole in the forest now.’

‘Nothing can be done with them,’ Barr said. ‘They’re not allowed to investigate–’

‘Seriously? Since when did we trust them? They link Kelly to other killings, they’ll know I did it.’

‘But they can’t do anything about that.’

‘But they’ll know it was me!’ Duggan snapped. ‘And I don’t want that.’

‘Why?’ Tony asked. ‘They knew you did other things.’

Duggan folded his arms. ‘But this one was different. Martin was my friend and I had to shoot him anyway because of what he did. What others said he did.’

He stared at Tony, but seemed to address Barr as he added, ‘And this whole time since, I’ve been asking myself, what if we got it wrong?’

Chapter Seventeen

‘What if this is wrong?’ Tony asked.

They had parked in the car park to the rear of Watson’s restaurant. Tony had picked up the car from the church grounds as instructed. The key had been lying under the mat in the footwell on the driver’s side. He’d gone early, hoping to see whoever left the car, but it was already parked there and, when Tony slipped his hand on the bonnet, the engine felt cold.

He’d driven to Karen’s to pick her up. She’d invited him inside briefly, while she got herself ready. Her place was a one-bedroom flat, with a kitchenette abutting the living area. It was neat and clean, as Tony had expected. An oversized sofa dominated the lounge area; it was old, the velour worn on the armrests, but Karen had covered it with a knitted throw to brighten up its drab brown.

She came out of her bedroom, pulling on a waist-length leather jacket. She wore jeans and a striped blue T-shirt. She’d put on make-up, he thought, but not so much as to be obvious. But he couldn’t tell whether she saw the meal as a date or a favour to Duggan.

‘You look really well,’ he managed.

She smiled. ‘Thanks. You don’t scrub up too badly yourself.’

He considered what he was wearing: jeans and a checked shirt. He’d hardly gone to town, scrubbing himself up.