“Uh?”

“What sort of mood was she in?”

“All right, I suppose.”

“She wasn’t upset about anything?”

“No. We were having a good time.”

“Leanne didn’t confide anything in you?”

“Like what?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Some problem with her stepmother, perhaps?”

“She was always having problems with that stuck-up bitch. I was sick of hearing about them.”

“Did she ever talk about running off?”

“Not to me. Not that I remember. Ian?”

“Nah. She just whined about the old cow, that’s all. She hadn’t the bottle to run away. If I was looking at somebody for it, I’d look at the stepmother first.”

“Somebody for what?”

“You know. If you think someone did something to Leanne, like.”

“I see. What was the idea that excited you all before you left the Old Ship?”

“I don’t know what you mean,” said Ian.

“Oh, come on. We know you seemed excited by something you were going to do. What was it? Did it include Leanne?”

“We talked about going to the Bar None, but Leanne knew she couldn’t come with us.”

“That’s all?”

“What else could there be?”

“She didn’t give you any hint that she might not be going straight home?”

“No.”

“Or that she might run off, teach her stepmother a lesson?”

“Dunno. Who can tell what’s in a bitch’s mind when it comes right down to it, hey?”

“Tut-tut, such language. You’ve been listening to too much hip-hop, Ian,” said Banks, standing to leave. “Nice choice of partner, Sarah,” he said on his way out, noticing that Sarah Francis looked distinctly put out and, more to the point, even a little frightened. That might come in useful before too long, he thought.

“I just had to get out of the flat, that’s all,” said Janet Taylor. “I mean, I didn’t want to drag you halfway across Yorkshire.”

“That’s all right,” said Annie, with a smile. “I don’t live that far away. Besides, I like it here.”

Here was a rambling old pub on the edge of the moorland above Wensleydale, not far from Banks’s cottage, with a solid reputation for Sunday lunch. Janet’s call had come shortly after ten o’clock that morning, just as Annie was having a nap to make up for her lack of sleep at Banks’s place. Their conversation had bothered her, kept her awake well into the small hours; she didn’t like talking about babies.

Trust Banks to hit a nerve. What she also didn’t like and didn’t seem able to tell him about these personal revelations of his was that they pushed her into examining her own past and her own feelings far more than she felt ready to do right now. She wished he would just lighten up and take it easy.

Anyway, an open-air lunch was just the ticket. The air was pure, and there wasn’t a cloud in the sky. From where they sat she could see the lush green dalesides crisscrossed with drystone walls, sheep wandering all over, baaing like crazy if any ramblers passed by. Down in the valley bottom, the river meandered and a group of cottages huddled around a village green, the square-towered church a little to one side, gray limestone bright in the midday sun. She thought she could see the tiny silhouettes of four people walking along the top of the high limestone scar over the dale. Christ, it would be good to be up there, all alone, not a care in the world.

But if the setting was ideal, she might have chosen a different companion. Despite the change of environment, Janet seemed distracted, forever flicking back the lock of hair that fell over her tired brown eyes. There was an unhealthy pallor about her that Annie guessed would take more than a lunch on the moors to dispel. Already Janet was on her second pint of lager and lime, and Annie had to bite her tongue not to say something about drink driving. She was on her first half of bitter, might have another half, then coffee after lunch. Annie, who was a vegetarian, had ordered quiche and a salad, but she was pleased to see that Janet had ordered roast lamb; she looked as if she needed some meat on her bones.

“How are you doing?” Annie asked.

Janet laughed. “Oh, about as well as can be expected.” She rubbed her forehead. “I still can’t get the sleep thing sorted out. You know, I keep replaying it, but I’m not sure if I’m seeing it the way it really happened.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, in the replays I see his face.”

“Terry Payne’s?”

“Yes, all twisted and contorted. Fearsome. But I don’t think I remember seeing him clearly at the time. My mind must be filling in details.”

“Possibly.” Annie thought of her own ordeal, the rape carried out by three colleagues after celebrating her passing her sergeant’s boards. At the time, she could have sworn she would remember every grunt and groan, every obscene facial expression and every sensation of him – the one who actually succeeded in penetrating her while the others held her down – forcing himself inside her as she struggled, tearing at her clothes, every drop of sweat that dripped from his face on to her skin, but she was surprised to find that much of it had faded, and it wasn’t a memory she felt compelled to rerun for herself night after night. Perhaps she was tougher than she thought, or maybe she was compartmentalizing it, as someone had once told her she did, shutting out the pain and humiliation.

“You’ve changed your mind about the statement, then?” Annie asked. They were sitting far enough away that they couldn’t be overheard if they spoke quietly. Not that any of the other diners looked as if they wanted to eavesdrop; they were all family groups talking loudly and laughing, trying to keep track of their adventurous children.

“I wasn’t lying,” said Janet. “I want you to know that, first off.”

“I know that.”

“I was just confused, that’s all. My memory of that night’s a bit shaky.”

“Understandable. But you do remember how many times you hit him?”

“No. All I’m saying is that it might have been more than I thought.”

Their meals arrived. Janet tucked in as if she hadn’t eaten in a week, which she probably hadn’t, and Annie picked at her food. The quiche was dry and the salad boring, but that was to be expected in a place that catered mostly for meat-eaters. At least she could enjoy the view. A high plane left a figure eight of white vapor trail across the sky.

“Janet,” Annie went on. “What do you want to change in your statement?”

“Well, you know, where I insisted I only hit him, what, two or three times?”

“Four.”

“Whatever. And the postmortem found… how many?”

“Nine blows.”

“Right.”

“Do you remember hitting him nine times?”

“No. That’s not what I’m saying.” Janet sawed off a piece of lamb and chewed on it for a moment.

Annie ate some lettuce. “What are you saying, Janet?”

“Just that, well, I suppose I lost it, that’s all.”

“You’re claiming diminished responsibility?”

“Not really. I mean, I knew what was going on, but I was scared and I was upset about Dennis, so I just… I don’t know, maybe I should have stopped hitting him sooner, after I’d handcuffed him to the pipes.”

“You hit him after that?”

“I think so. Once or twice.”

“And you remember doing that?”

“I remember hitting him after I’d handcuffed him, yes. Thinking, this one’s for Dennis, you bastard. I just don’t remember how many times.”

“You realize you’ll have to come to the station and revise your statement, don’t you? I mean, it’s okay just telling me here, now, like this, but it has to be done officially.”

Janet raised an eyebrow. “Of course I know that. I’m still a copper, aren’t I? I just wanted… you know…” She looked away out over the dale.

Annie thought she did know, and that Janet was too embarrassed to say it. She wanted some company. She wanted someone who would at least try to understand her in a gorgeous setting on a beautiful day, before the three-ringed circus that was likely to be her life for the next while went into full swing.