As he passed her she could smell him, and see the worn seams of his jacket, and the bristles on his head. Dan opened the door. With a sudden movement Russ threw back his arm and flung his backpack towards the car. It landed against the wheel. He rubbed both hands over his head. He flexed his neck with a small jerk of his head.

‘Did I do something to piss you off?’ he said quietly.

‘It’s just time to go, mate,’ said Dan.

Bea held her phone up, letting him know she was ready. Russ was tall, but Dan was younger and fitter than he was.

‘I don’t know what you both think about me.’

Dan said nothing, holding the door open. Russ made a short, ironic sound.

‘Hey. I get it.’

Dan nodded. Russ moved his head in Bea’s direction.

‘I guess I should apologise. And I’m sorry about Alex. He was a – he was a good guy. He was a friend of mine.’

Bea felt unaccountably guilty, as if he had pressed a button in her, marked Sympathy. He went out to his car. Dan waited for him to get into it, and until he had started the engine, before he closed the front door.

Neither of them moved. They didn’t even look at one another. They heard the vibration of heavy bass inside the car, and watched through the glass as he reversed the BMW, idled for a moment, and drove out through the gates.

Bea’s phone vibrated in her hand and the feeble screen glowed. It was Capitaine Vincent. He had just come out of the cinema.

They met a Detective Jean Clement, at the gendarmerie. It was shut for the night. The buildings were silent, and the parade square was invisible, hidden in the dark. The two soldiers on the gate looked tired beneath the bright white security lights. The glass-walled reception was a luminous box, floating in space, with a solitary officer at the desk inside. Detective Clement took them through the powered-down metal detector, across the square, up into the office, where he switched on all the lights, and took down Russ’s description. They had coffee. Clement was scruffy and polite, wearing a gun in a shoulder holster and wrinkled jeans. They hadn’t met him before. They liked him more than either Dufour or Luis. He asked after her father.

‘It’s a tragedy,’ he said. ‘I’m sorry about your brother. The English newspapers telephoned here.’ He sounded incredulous at the idea of journalists pursuing information from the police, and didn’t say anything else about it.

They left the gendarmerie after midnight and said goodbye to Clement on the pavement.

‘OK, take care, yeah?’ he said, in English, as he walked away.

Bea shivered with cold and lonely fear as she fumbled with the keys to open the car again.

‘Here, let me,’ said Dan, taking the keys. ‘Nearly there.’