It was as though I’d touched you with a red-hot poker. Do you remember you stopped and grabbed me?

‘I never hurt that suspect,’ you were almost snarling.

‘And yet here you are,’ I replied. ‘Kicked out of the police, working alone.’

‘Whatever you think you know about me, I’m not the one being investigated for murder,’ you said.

You took a half-step back. I think you realized you’d said too much.

‘So that’s what the police are doing?’ I scoffed. I knew, of course. ‘Good luck. You’re all wasting your time.’

Do you understand now why I said that?

‘You never answered the question. Do you think we could ever love each other? Under different circumstances?’ I asked.

And do you remember what you said?

‘There are no different circumstances. Things are how they are. The crazed genius act might work on other people, but it won’t wash with me.’

I remember smiling, beaming like a fool. It was such a sparky answer.

‘You hurt me, Ben,’ you said. ‘You hurt me more than you can ever know.’

‘I know exactly how much I hurt you,’ I replied. ‘And how much I hurt myself too, but I had no choice.’

‘Why do you keep saying that?’ you asked.

‘Because it’s the truth,’ I replied.

I took your hands at that point, didn’t I? You were horrified, but I felt complete. I knew then that we were meant to be together, but you weren’t sure whether you were being held by a murderer. Perhaps you were. I’m still not sure what I am. But for me, that was a moment I’ll never forget.

In you, I’d found everything I’d ever need.

‘Things aren’t always what they seem, are they? You say you were innocent. Perhaps I am. Whatever happens, know that I only want happiness for you,’ I said.

You pulled your hands free, and backed away.

‘Don’t ever touch me again.’

You almost spat the words. You were so angry. Do you remember? I think you were afraid. Maybe you did still love me?

And what did I say? I told you, ‘I can’t make that promise. I can’t promise never to touch you again.’

And you hated me for saying that. I could see it in your eyes. They burned bright with indignation at what you thought was a threat, but which was simply a statement of truth. I couldn’t imagine never touching you again.

‘Get away from me,’ you said.

‘Mr Elmys,’ Sabih Khan shouted.

DS Khan, I mean. Poor man. Poor, poor man. Know that not a moment passes when I don’t regret what happened.

‘They want you back,’ DS Khan yelled up from the cottage.

Do you remember what I said to you before I left?

‘I think we would. I think if we’d met somewhere else, in another time, another place, I think we would love each other.’

Your eyes told me that the first time we met, your lips told me that when we kissed, and you should know that I felt it too. I still do. It was as though I’d wounded you with those words. You deflated and for a moment all your indignation seemed to dissipate.