Jo struggled to keep her temper. ‘But you didn’t push him, is that what you’re telling me? Seriously, you think I believe that, that the police would?’

‘No.’

Jo wanted to scream at the woman sitting across the table from her, forearms resting on the coffee-damp table, the sleeves of her robe soaking up the residue left behind by the swipe of the towel. How could she sit there looking so calm and dare to insist she hadn’t killed her husband? ‘No? What the fuck is that supposed to mean?’

She had to wait for an answer. Allison got to her feet again and left the room. She could hear her opening and shutting cupboards in the kitchen. Food? In the middle of this. Shit, what kind of woman was she?

But when Allison returned, it was with a bottle of whisky and two glasses. She put both glasses down, opened the whisky and poured a generous amount into each glass.

Jo thought if she made a toast, any sort of toast, she’d throw the drink into her face. Luckily, Allison didn’t. She sat, lifted the glass and downed half in one swallow. ‘No,’ she said then, finally answering Jo’s question. ‘The police might not believe I didn’t kill him.’ She met Jo’s gaze and frowned. ‘I’m not sure why you wouldn’t believe me, though; you’ve no reason to doubt me, no reason to believe me capable of such a thing. Unfortunately, the same isn’t true of the police. They would have every reason to believe me capable.’ She rolled the glass between her fingers before lifting it and emptying the contents. She stared into the empty glass and spoke, her voice barely above a whisper. ‘Many years ago, I did something bad. There’s no need to tell you the details, suffice to say it would make the police look at me with suspicious eyes if they knew I’d been on the platform that day. They’d never believe the real reason.’

Something bad? Was that how she saw what she’d done? Jo didn’t like whisky. She drank it anyway, throwing the entire contents back, choking and spluttering. ‘Fuck!’

Allison reached for the bottle and refilled both glasses. ‘Probably not a good idea to get blotto. I promised I’d bring back the passports when the money comes through.’

‘It’s not like you’re planning on keeping your word to those monsters, is it?’

Allison looked surprised. ‘I’ll give them their passports back as I promised. That much I’ll do. You never heard me promising I wouldn’t tell the police, did you?’

‘Is that what you’re going to do?’ Jo frowned.

Instead of answering, Allison picked up her glass and swirled the whisky, sniffing the aroma appreciatively. She put it down without drinking. ‘Did you know that someone is reported missing every ninety seconds in the UK?’