“Ruth can be a bit melodramatic when the mood takes her. How did I feel? You know damn well how I felt. I told you last time you were here, when you were pretending to be her father. I was devastated. Hurt. Heartbroken. But I got over it.”

“Only after you’d followed her around for a while.”

“Yeah, well, I’m not proud of that. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”

“Maybe you weren’t thinking clearly when you killed her?”

“That’s absurd. No matter how cynical you are, I loved her and I would never have hurt her.”

“So you said. Are you sure?”

“Of course I’m sure. Look, are you suggesting I killed her over three months after she dumped me?”

“People have been known to brood for longer. Especially stalkers.”

“Well, I didn’t. And I’m getting sick of this. I don’t want to answer any more questions.” He stood up. “And if you want anything more out of me, you’ll have to arrest me.”

Banks sighed. “I don’t want to do that, Craig. Really, I don’t. Too much paperwork.”

“Then you’d better leave. I’ve had enough.”

“I suppose I had,” said Banks, who had asked almost all the questions he wanted. “But there is one small thing you might be able to help me with.”

Craig looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Go on.”

“Last time I came to see you, you told me that when you saw Emily with her boyfriend in London, you were taking candid pictures in the street, right?”

“Yes.”

“Were you really taking pictures or just pretending for the sake of cover?”

“I took some candids. Yes.”

“Do you still have the photos from that day?”

“Yes.”

“Do you have one of Clough?”

“I think so, yes. Why?”

“I know you’re pissed off at me, Craig, but would you do me a favor and make me a copy?”

“I could do that. Again, though, why? Oh, I see. You want to show it around up north, don’t you? Find out if anyone saw him up there. I suppose he’s got a watertight alibi, doesn’t he?”

“Something like that,” said Banks. “Believe me, it would be a great help.”

“At least you’re thinking in the right direction again,” said Craig. “I can probably get some prints to you by tomorrow.”

“What about now?”

“Now?”

“Sooner the better.”

“But I’d have to get set up. I mean… it’d take a bit of time.”

“I can come back.” Banks looked at his watch. Lunchtime. “How about I pop down to the nearest pub and have some lunch while you do the prints, then I’ll come back and pick them up.”

Craig sighed. “Anything to get you off my back. Try The Plough, down by the roundabout, end of the High Street. And you don’t need to come back. I’ll drop them off there. Half an hour to an hour, say?”

“I’ll be there,” said Banks.

“Will you do me a favor in exchange?”

“Depends.”

“When’s the funeral going to be?”

“That depends on when the coroner releases the body.”

“Will you let me know? Her parents don’t know me, so they won’t invite me, but I’d like… you know… at least to be there.”

“Don’t worry, Craig. I’ll let you know.”

“Thanks. Now, I suppose I’d better get up to the darkroom.”

Of all the different ways that Annie had tried to imagine this moment turning out – confronting her rapist – the one thing that had never occurred to her was that it would end with a sense of anticlimax, of disappointment.

But disappointment was exactly what she felt as she stood in front of Wayne Dalton on the banks of the River Swale, with a pile of steaming cow-clap between them. Indifference, even.

Her heart was still pounding, but more from the anticipation and the long walk than from the actual encounter, and he looked like a guilty schoolboy caught masturbating in the toilets. But instead of the monster she had created in her mind, what stood before her was all too human. Dalton wasn’t frightening; he was pathetic.

For a few moments they just stared at each other. Neither spoke. Annie felt herself calming down, becoming centered. Her heart returned to its normal rhythm; she was in control.

Finally, Dalton broke the silence. “What are you doing here?”

“I work here. Eastvale. I followed you.”

“My God. I never knew… What do you want?”

“I don’t know,” Annie replied honestly. “I thought I wanted revenge, but now I’m here it doesn’t seem important anymore.”

“If it’s any consolation,” said Dalton, avoiding her eyes, “there’s not a day gone by when I haven’t regretted that night.”

“Regretted that you didn’t get to finish what you started?”

“That’s not what I mean. We were insane, Annie. I don’t know what happened. The drink. The herd mentality.” He shook his head.

“I know. I was there.” Calm as she was inside, Annie felt tears prickling her eyes and she hated the idea of crying in front of Dalton. “You know, I’ve dreamed of this moment, of meeting one of you alone like this, of crushing you. Now we’re here, though, it really doesn’t matter.”

“It does matter, Annie. It matters to me.”

“What do you mean? And don’t you dare call me Annie.”

“Sorry. The guilt. That’s what I’m talking about. What I have to live with, day in, day out.”

Annie couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Oh, Wayne,” she said, “that’s a good one. That’s really good one. Are you asking me for forgiveness?”

“I don’t know what I’m asking for. Just for some… some sort of end, some resolution.”

“I see. You want closure, is that it? Popular term, these days, especially with victims. Everyone wants the bad guys put away. Gives them a sense of closure. Are you a victim here, Wayne, is that it?” Annie felt herself getting angry as she spoke, the indifference resolving itself into something else, into something harder. Two ramblers approached slowly from the woods beyond the river meadows.

“That’s not what I meant,” said Dalton.

“Then tell me exactly what you did mean, Wayne, because from where I’m standing you’re the bad guy.”

“Look, I know what we did was wrong, and I know that being drunk, being part of a group is no excuse. But I’m not that kind of person. It’s the first, the only time I’ve ever done anything like that.”

“So you’re telling me that because you’re not a serial rapist you’re really an okay guy when it comes right down to it? Is that it? You just made one silly little mistake one night when you and your pals had had a bit too much to drink and there was this young bird just asking for it.” She could tell her voice was rising as she spoke but she couldn’t help herself. She was losing it. She struggled for control again.

“Christ, that’s not what I’m saying. You’re twisting my words.”

“Oh, pardon me,” said Annie, shaking her head. “I don’t know what’s worse, a contrite rapist or an unrepentant one.”

“Don’t get it all out of proportion. I didn’t rape you.”

“No. You didn’t get your chance, did you? But you held me, you helped rip off my panties, and you stood there and enjoyed it while your friend raped me. I saw your face, Wayne. Remember? I know how you felt. You were just waiting for your turn, weren’t you, like a little kid waiting for his go on the swings. And you would have done it, if you’d got the chance. In my mind that doesn’t make you any different from the others. You’re just as bad as the others.”

Dalton sighed and looked at the ground. Annie glared at him as the ramblers passed by. They said hello, but neither Annie nor Dalton answered.

“So what do you want from me?” he asked.

“What do I want? I’d like to see you off the job, for a start. In jail would be even better. But I don’t suppose that’s going to happen, is it? Would I settle for an apology instead? I don’t think so.”

“What more can I do?”

“You can admit what happened. You can go back down there, go see the chief super again and tell him you lied, tell him the three of you got carried away and you raped me. That I did nothing to lead you on or encourage you or make you think I was going to let the three of you fuck me senseless. That’s what you can do.”