‘No,’ Joe said. ‘I just want to find out whether you can think of anything else. It’s been three weeks now.’

Mike Corley gritted his teeth. ‘I know exactly how long it is,’ he said. ‘I have felt every day of it.’

‘So have you thought of anything else?’ Joe asked.

Mike Corley shook his head. ‘No, and now someone else has died.’

Joe nodded, and then looked at Laura to let her know that it was time to go.

‘If you come across Jane’s name, will you tell us?’ she said.

Corley nodded slowly, but then said, ‘Could you please leave? All I see right now are detectives who have failed us. Speak to me when you find out who killed my daughter.’

Laura exchanged quick glances with Joe, and then she nodded. ‘Sorry, Mike. Thanks for your time.’

As they headed for the door, Laura stopped and looked back. ‘Why were you at the scene this morning?’ she said.

Corley’s eyes widened in surprise, and then he shook his head. ‘So that’s why you are here, to catch me out.’

‘It’s not like that,’ she said. ‘We saw you, that’s all, and were curious.’

‘So if you think I had something to do with it, I’m not the cleverest, am I?’ he said.

Laura realised that she didn’t have an answer for that.

The door almost hit Laura as they got to the doorstep and it slammed shut behind them.

‘Not my finest hour,’ she said.

‘It was never going to be,’ Joe said. ‘He doesn’t like us at the moment, and do you know what, I’m not sure I would in his shoes.’

Once they were in Joe’s car, Laura glanced towards the Corley house, tranquil from the outside, but raging within.

‘So do you fancy that drink now?’ Joe asked.

‘I should be getting home,’ she replied.

‘Bobby will still be there later on.’

Laura wavered, and when Joe raised an eyebrow and smiled, she relented. ‘Come on then,’ she said, sighing. ‘I’ve time for one.’

Chapter Fourteen

Jack checked the clock. Just gone nine. Bobby was playing on the floor with some action figures, talking to himself, playing out a scene. He should be in bed, but Jack wanted him to see Laura before he went to sleep.

The piece on the murder had long been submitted, and so he was idling, lying down on the sofa, just waiting for Laura. Johnny Cash boomed out of the speakers, as usual, the Orange Blossom Special album, boxcars and railroad drum rhythms, but it gave the house an energy that he didn’t feel.

There were some wedding magazines on the coffee table, with brochures for venues tucked in like bookmarks. Jack reached over for one, knowing that they had to start making some decisions, but as he flicked through the glossy shots, it didn’t hold any interest for him.

Bobby looked up and smiled, and Jack saw Laura in him for a moment, with small dimples in his cheeks.

‘What time is Mummy coming home?’ he said.

‘Soon,’ Jack said, although he didn’t know whether that was true or not. He knew that she would be tied up for most of the night, the first days of a murder are like that, where all the hope is for a quick hit, but the day had long since gone.

He pulled his phone from his pocket to call Laura, just to see if she was going to be much longer, but he paused. She might be in a meeting, or driving. And was he ringing for updates, ever the reporter, or was he just missing her, wanting to hear her voice? Or was it worse than that; was he just bored?

The album played itself out and the house fell silent again, except for the creak of the stylus arm as it moved slowly across to its resting place. Jack listened to Johnny Cash because it reminded him of his father. He had been killed a few years earlier, but he had spent his life collecting and playing Cash records. In the line of duty was the phrase they had used when he died, although Jack didn’t think he’d volunteered for that part of the job. And it wasn’t just the songs that brought his father close again. It was the album sleeves, the paper inserts, the orange Columbia labels. Jack kept his memory alive by driving his car and blowing the fluff from the stylus.

He turned back to Bobby, who was engrossed in his game once more. Bobby made them a proper family, but Jack knew the truth: if he parted with Laura he would just become a distant memory to Bobby, despite the years he’d put in. It would mean nothing in the end, because they were bound only by Laura.

And there had been some rocky patches. Laura took a long time to settle in the north, and their first couple of years had seemed like a constant battle with Geoff, Bobby’s father, who was still in London and wanted Bobby nearer to him. There had been arguments, and when things had got really strained, Jack could see Laura’s uncertainty about life in the Lancashire hills.

But they loved each other, and so far that had taken them through the difficult times. Jack hoped that their marriage would settle any doubts she might have left.

His melancholy was interrupted by the rumble of a car engine. He sat up and looked towards the window, expecting it to be Laura. He groaned. It was Dolby, his Jaguar making Jack’s Stag look shabby and old. As he climbed out of the car, Jack felt his hackles rise. He tried to stop it, knew that it was an ego thing, because Dolby looked like he could fall into just about anything he wanted. His jeans were designer, and as he walked to the door he threw on a linen jacket. One quick run of his fingers through his long blond locks and then he knocked.

Jack forced a smile as he opened the door. ‘It’s late, Dolby. What have I done to deserve this visit?’

‘Jack, don’t be like that,’ Dolby said, his hands spread. Wide grin. Perfect white teeth. Only to be expected. ‘I was in the area, and so I thought it was a good time to talk.’

Jack stepped to one side and let him go past, until Dolby turned round and said, ‘It might be better if we spoke alone.’

Jack bent down to ruffle Bobby’s hair and whispered in his ear that it was time to go upstairs. Once they were alone, Dolby sat down on the arm of the sofa. Jack didn’t object. It made Dolby look like he wasn’t staying long.

‘How’s the press conference piece?’ Jack said.

‘It’s good, and it’s on the website, but we need more than that now,’ Dolby said.

Jack was confused. ‘What do you mean?’

Dolby smiled in that condescending way that he had. ‘Jack, it’s old news now, and you know what sells newspapers? Anger, that’s what. People are dying and the police can’t catch the killer, but people can get that from the internet. What about a campaign? Make the people scared. We need to make the paper stand for something again.’

‘And that something is spreading fear?’ Jack said, surprised. ‘The police shouldn’t have to spend their time combating the press, they should spend it catching the killer.’

‘How very fucking noble of you,’ Dolby said, flicking at his hair. ‘Nobility doesn’t keep the paper afloat. The world’s changed, Jack. It’s a tough economy for local papers. You know how it is. It was hard enough before the banks sent us all down. We’re in a different news culture than the one you trained in. It’s instant now, and so we have to do something different. I want to run a campaign, getting at the police, asking why this killer is still loose.’

Jack held back his first response, that he didn’t need a lesson in newspaper politics. Instead, he said, ‘You know it’s difficult for me. Laura’s on the murder squad, for Christ’s sake.’

‘So that’s a no, is it?’ Dolby said, his eyes wide, and Jack guessed the subtext, that there were plenty of eager young hacks getting ready to step in, and that it wasn’t just the one story that was up for grabs.

Jack sighed. ‘No, it isn’t,’ he said quietly.

Dolby slapped his legs with his hands and jumped to his feet. ‘Good man, I knew you would. Can you get something to go in tomorrow?’