‘I get it,’ Steve says. ‘I do. And by the time that had come out, and you tried to mention this guy . . .’

‘No one was listening,’ I finish for him. ‘Yeah. I owe you an apology for that.’ Rory blinks, startled, and then comes up with a clumsy nod. ‘Lucky for us all Detective Moran picked up on it.’

‘Do you think you’d recognise the guy?’ Steve asks.

‘Yes. Almost definitely, yes. I’ve been thinking about him constantly, ever since I found out about Aislinn.’ Rory’s swaying forward eagerly; he’s our friend again. ‘The more I think about it, the more I think he . . . I mean, his face, Saturday night: something wasn’t right.’

Steve is pulling the photo array out of his bag. ‘OK,’ he says. ‘I want you to have a look at this and tell me if the man you saw is on here. If he’s not, say so. If you’re not sure, say so. Yeah?’

Rory nods, gearing up to concentrate. Steve hands him the card.

It takes Rory all of two seconds. ‘This guy. That’s him.’

His finger is on McCann.

‘Take your time,’ Steve says. ‘Make sure you’ve looked at all the faces.’

Rory does another scan because he’s a good boy, but his finger doesn’t move. ‘It’s him.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes. I’m positive. He looks a bit younger here, but it’s him.’

And there it is: a solid link. No if-then-maybe; this is the real thing, at last. It shakes the air as it thuds down between me and Steve, dense and tarnish-black and too heavy to move. We’re stuck with it now.

Rory can feel us believing him. ‘Do you think he . . . ? Who is he?’

‘He’s a guy,’ Steve says. ‘We can’t go into details right now. Can you write down where you’ve seen the man, at the bottom there? Sign it and date it, and put your initials next to the photo you recognise.’

Rory leans the card on a shelf and writes carefully. ‘Here,’ he says, passing it back to Steve. ‘Is this OK?’

Steve reads. ‘That’s great. We’ll need you to come in and give an official statement, but not right now. You can relax.’

‘You mean . . . ? Do I still have to go in to you later on?’

‘I don’t know yet. We’ll see how the day goes. For now, just try and chill out a bit; get some kip, get some breakfast. I know that’s easier said.’

‘Am I still . . .’ Rory’s throat moves; he can’t get the word out. ‘Did you talk to Aislinn’s neighbours? Did any of them see me, in the . . . outside her place?’

‘Not yet. We’ll get back to you. Like I said: try and relax for now.’

‘Do you . . . you know. Do you still think I did this?’