He must catch a flick of surprise off one of us, because he laughs. ‘You thought I got back from my road trip and came charging straight in to save Mac from you two big scary avengers? I was in the observation room. Because I knew Mac didn’t need saving, seeing as he’s done nothing – well, apart from sticking his dick in the wrong place, which isn’t a hanging offence in my book. But I think we can all agree he’s had a tough few days, so when I saw you two going all out to wreck his head, I figured it might be time to call a halt.’

He wanders over to the table, flicks up the Murray family photo to have a long look. ‘Huh. No wonder Mac didn’t recognise her.’ He flips the photo back at the table, ignores it when it misses and spins to the ground. ‘So,’ he says. ‘All the time I thought we were working together. All the time I was getting a lovely warm feeling about what beautiful interviews we pulled off with Rory. This was what was going on in your heads. Tell me: when you looked in the mirror this morning, you didn’t taste just a little bit of sick in the back of your throats?’

Breslin doing what he does best. It feels strange, somehow it feels like a loss, that I don’t have the faintest urge to punch his face in. ‘And all the time I thought we were working together,’ I say, ‘all the time I was enjoying those beautiful interviews, you were keeping this back. You wanna throw stones?’

His eyes snap wide and he points a finger at me. ‘No no no, Conway. Don’t you try to turn this around on me. You’ve just proved that I was dead fucking right not to let you in. This interview . . .’ His mouth twists up in disgust; he takes a swig of water to wash it away. ‘Go ahead; tell me. What do you think you accomplished with this interview?’

I say, ‘We got enough for a warrant on McCann’s gaff.’

Breslin thinks that over, nodding. ‘A warrant. Nice. And what are you planning on finding in there?’

‘Those brown leather gloves McCann wears all winter? The ones I haven’t seen once this week? Either we’ll find Aislinn’s blood on them, or we won’t find them at all.’

‘Wow,’ Breslin says, raising his eyebrows. ‘Impressive. I’d say Mac would be shitting himself if he heard that. Shall I save you some hassle? Would you like to hear what actually happened?’

‘Love to,’ I say. ‘From McCann, but.’