Both bedrooms, the large and the small, looked over The Hill, and when Maggie tapped on the door of the smaller room she had given Lucy and entered, she saw that Lucy was already standing by the window. Stark naked. She turned when Maggie entered with the tea. “Oh, thank you. You’re so kind.”

Maggie felt herself blush. She couldn’t help but notice what a fine body Lucy had: the full, round breasts, taut, flat stomach, gently curving hips and smooth tapered thighs, the dark triangle between her legs. Lucy seemed completely unembarrassed by her own nakedness, but Maggie felt uncomfortable and tried to avert her eyes.

Luckily the curtains were still closed and the light was fairly dim, but Lucy had held them open a little at the top and had clearly been watching the activity across the street. It had let up a bit in the past couple of days, Maggie had noticed, but there was still a great deal of coming and going, and the front garden was still a complete mess.

“Have you seen what they’ve done over there?” said Lucy, coming forward and accepting the cup of tea. She got back into bed and covered herself with the thin white sheet. Maggie was grateful at least for that.

“Yes,” said Maggie.

“That’s my house, and they’ve ruined it completely for me. I can’t go back there now. Not ever.” Her lower lip trembled in anger. “I saw through the door into the hall when someone came out. They’ve taken all the carpets, pulled up the floorboards. They’ve even punched big holes in the walls. They’ve just ruined it.”

“I suppose they were looking for things, Lucy. It’s their job.”

“Looking for what? What more could they want? I’ll bet they’ve taken all my nice things, too, all my jewelry and clothes. All my memories.”

“I’m sure you’ll get it all back.”

Lucy shook her head. “No. I don’t want it all back. Not now. I thought I did, but now I’ve seen what they’ve done, it’s tainted. I’ll start over again. With just what I’ve got.”

“Are you all right for money?” Maggie asked.

“Yes, thank you. We had a bit put away. I don’t know what will happen to the house, the mortgage, but I doubt we’ll be able to sell it in that state.”

“There must be some sort of compensation,” Maggie said. “Surely they can’t just take your house and not compensate you?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised at anything they could do.” Lucy blew on the tea. Steam rose around her face.

“Look, I told you last night,” Maggie said, “I have to go to London, just for a couple of days. Will you be all right here by yourself?”

“Yes. Of course. Don’t worry about me.”

“There’s plenty of food in the fridge and freezer, you know, if you don’t want to go out or order in.”

“That’s good, thank you,” said Lucy. “I think I really would just like to stay in and shut out the world and watch television or something, try to take my mind off what’s been happening.”

“There’s plenty of videotapes in the cupboard under the TV in my bedroom,” said Maggie. “Please feel free to watch them there whenever you want.”

“Thank you, Maggie. I will.”

Though there was a small television set in the living room, the only TV-and-VCR combination in the entire house was set up in the master bedroom, for some reason, and that was Maggie’s room. Not that she wasn’t thankful. She had often lain in bed unable to sleep and, when there was nothing suitable on television, had watched one of the love stories or romantic comedies Ruth seemed to favor, with actors such as Hugh Grant, Meg Ryan, Richard Gere, Tom Hanks, Julia Roberts and Sandra Bullock; they had helped her through many a long, hard night.

“Are you sure there isn’t anything else you need?”

“I can’t think of anything,” Lucy said. “I just want to feel safe and comfortable so I can remember what it’s like.”

“You’ll be fine here. I’m really sorry I have to leave you so soon, but I’ll be back before long. Don’t worry.”

“It’s okay, honest,” said Lucy. “I didn’t come here to interrupt your life or anything. You’ve got your work. I know that. I’m only asking for sanctuary for a short time, just till I get myself together.”

“What are you going to do?”

“No idea. I suppose I can change my name and get a job somewhere far away from here. Anyway, not to worry. You go to London and have a good time. I can take care of myself.”

“If you’re sure.”

“I’m sure.” Lucy got out of bed again, put her cup of tea on the bedside table and went back toward the window. There she stood, providing Maggie with a rear view of her finely toned body, looking out across the road at what used to be her home.

“I must dash, then,” said Maggie. “The taxi will be here soon.”

“Bye,” said Lucy, without turning round. “Have a good time.”

“Okay, Mick,” said Banks. “I understand you want to talk to us.”

After his night in the cells, Mick Blair didn’t at all resemble the cocky teenager they had interviewed yesterday. In fact, he looked like a frightened kid. Clearly the prospect of spending several years in a similar or worse facility had worked on his imagination. He had also, Banks knew through the custody sergeant, had a long telephone conversation with his parents shortly after his detention, and his manner had seemed to change after that. He had not asked for a lawyer. Not yet.

“Yeah,” he said. “But first tell me what Sarah said.”

“You know I can’t do that, Mick.”

In fact, Sarah Francis had told them nothing at all; she had remained as monosyllabic and as scared and surly as she had in Ian Scott’s flat. But that didn’t matter, as she had been mainly used as a lever against Mick, anyway.

Banks, Winsome and Mick were in the largest, most comfortable interview room. It had also been painted recently, and Banks could smell the paint from the institutional-green walls. He still had nothing from the lab on Samuel Gardner’s car, but Mick didn’t know that. He said he wanted to talk, but if he decided to play coy again, Banks could always drop hints about fingerprints and hairs. He knew they had been in the car. It was something he should have checked at the time, with Ian Scott having a record for taking and driving away. Given Scott’s other offense, he also had a good idea what the four of them had been up to.

“Would you like to make a statement, then?” Banks said. “For the record.”

“Yes.”

“You’ve been made aware of all your rights?”

“Yes.”

“Okay, then, Mick. Tell us what happened that night.”

“What you said yesterday, about it going easier with me…?”

“Yes?”

“You meant it, didn’t you? I mean, whatever Sarah said, she might have been lying, you know, to protect herself and Ian.”

“The courts and the judges look favorably upon people who help the police, Mick. That’s a fact. I’ll be honest. I can’t give you the exact details of what will happen – it depends on so many variables – but I can tell you that you’ll have my support for leniency, and that should go some distance.”

Mick swallowed. He was about to rat on his friends. Banks had witnessed such moments before and knew how difficult it was, what conflicting emotions must be struggling for primacy inside Mick Blair’s soul. Self-preservation usually won out, in Banks’s experience, but sometimes at the cost of self-loathing. It was the same for him, the watcher; he wanted the information, and he had coaxed many a weak and sensitive suspect toward informing, but when he succeeded, the taste of victory was often soured by the bile of disgust.

Not this time, though, Banks thought. He wanted to know what had happened to Leanne Wray far more than he cared about Mick Blair’s discomfort.

“You did steal that car, didn’t you, Mick?” Banks began. “We’ve already recovered a lot of hair samples and fingerprints. We’ll find yours among them, won’t we? And Ian’s, Sarah’s and Leanne’s.”