The setting sun had moved from bruiser to fire raiser, setting the sky alight, before it too died and left behind only darkness.

He lay down on the hard surface which served as a bed, but dared not close his eyes, because every time he did, an image of strands of blonde hair, barely hiding Ailsa’s dead face, presented itself.

If he succeeded in banishing that, then other images replaced it. Ailsa laughing at what she called his serious lack of fun, his obsession with worrying. She would play at tempting him when she had no need, because he was always tempted by her presence. Sometimes the image of her pouting mouth arrived as she prompted him to take her photograph, showing how much she enticed him. But, each time, the image was slowly transformed into that other one. The one where she was dead.

The sound of footsteps in the corridor brought him to his feet. There was a rattle as the lock was undone. The door swung open and the uniformed officer urged him out. Greg realized by the look on the officer’s face that it would be better not to ask questions.

Following him along the corridor, he heard a scuffle, then Josh’s voice rasped from one of the side cells as they passed.

‘They’ve got you, you bastard.’

Any hope he might have allowed to trickle in now gone, he steeled himself for what was to come.

Snyder was alone, DS Reid having no doubt gone home. Detectives had a life too, he thought. He briefly imagined what DS Reid’s might be, and saw only pleasant things. As for Snyder, he wasn’t so sure. How many murder and rape cases had he investigated? How many crime scenes and post-mortems and morgues had filled his life?

How many times had he caught ‘his man’ and charged him? Such as was about to happen here.

He felt cold, both outside and in. The phrase ‘as cold as the grave’ presented itself before that image of a real grave was with him once again. He pulled himself together as he realized Snyder was about to speak.

‘We’re releasing you, Mr Taylor. However, we expect you not to leave the area and be aware you may be rearrested in the near future.’

The words entered his brain in jumbled form, and he had to reconstruct the sentence in order to absorb it.

‘You mean I can go?’ he said, surprised.

‘For the moment, yes.’

Having convinced himself otherwise, he now found he was at a loss as to what should happen next. He thought of how late it was and how he might get home.

As though interpreting his thoughts, Snyder said, ‘Mr Webster is waiting for you in the car park.’

‘How did he know you would let me go?’

‘He didn’t.’