‘I . . . didn’t really think about it.’

‘So you’re saying you carried him by yourself?’

Bob glanced to the camera, then Jessica, then back again. ‘Of course.’

That was something she very much doubted – but there was no evidence to the contrary.

‘Why did you return to the university?’

He spoke without a pause, the story perfectly drilled. ‘Familiarity? I’m not sure. A few years ago, there was a man fished out of the river who’d fallen in and drowned. I suppose I thought it would be easy enough to make it seem like that. It was late . . . well, early, I suppose. At the back of the university buildings, there are these lanes that run down to the park and the river but there were a few small groups of people around wearing suits and dresses.’

‘What did you do?’

‘I waited. There was a party on, so when it went quiet I took Damon down towards the front.’ He caught Jessica’s eye. ‘I had to drag him some of the way on the path but I had the sheet. When I got down there, I spotted the metal bin and thought it’d cause fewer problems if I left him there.’

‘Why?’

‘I’m not sure . . . I wasn’t thinking properly. I suppose I thought that if his body ended up in the river then it could have floated anywhere.’

It wasn’t the best of reasons but given the rest of his story, it almost made sense: she didn’t believe he actually wanted to hurt Damon and he likely wouldn’t have known that the bin was going to be emptied hours later. In a strange, warped way, being left to be found in a bin offered a minuscule amount of dignity compared to floating miles in a river and perhaps never being found. Of course, the truth could be that Bob left the body there knowing the blame would be thrown elsewhere. Either way, he had a story that he was sticking to.

Jessica nudged Archie with her knee under the desk and he was instantly the jack-the-lad Manc, as much at home selling dodgy TVs as he was in an interview room. He pressed both forearms onto the table, looked at Jessica, then back across the desk again.

‘What a load of old bollocks. You expect us to believe that you carried the body of a strapping young athlete out to your car, down a ramp, then lifted him into a bin all by yourself? Give over, mate. I’ve heard more convincing stories off Scousers.’

Bob didn’t flinch, staring at the table. ‘Believe what you want – I’ve told you the truth.’

‘And what about this after-hours club of yours? There must have been something else going on – Damon was a smart kid: rich, athletic, bright future. What were you offering him that made him so keen to go back to your house?’

He’d asked the exact question Jessica wanted him to without even knowing it.

‘I don’t know. He was very academic – I can only imagine he enjoyed interacting with others who were up to his level.’

‘What a load of shite.’

‘I don’t have anything else to say.’

And he didn’t. Archie kept pushing and pointing out the inconsistencies in Bob’s story but he would only repeat that he’d told them all he knew.

Eventually, Jessica tapped Archie on the knee again and he backed off, still staring ferociously across the room. ‘I just have one final question,’ Jessica said. ‘Who are you scared of?’

‘Sorry?’

‘I’ve seen enough people who are scared of other people over the years. It gives off a scent. I can smell the fear in here. Constable?’

Archie joined in: ‘Aye – fear and bullshit. The room stinks.’

‘Who is it?’ Jessica asked.

Bob’s eyes flickered up at the camera again but he didn’t flinch, shaking his head instead. ‘Who have I got to be scared of?’

Jessica ended the interview and called the uniformed officer stationed outside to take Bob back to the cells. As the professor stood, Jessica slotted behind him as Archie moved in front. Archie apologised to the officer for messing up protocol but it gave Jessica the moment she wanted. She reached up and pulled down the collar of Bob’s shirt. He spun and tried to tug it back up but she had already seen the tattoo just above his shoulderblade embedded on his wrinkled skin: a black and white fleur-de-lis.

46

Jessica sat in the chair opposite DCI Cole’s desk, telling him everything that had happened with Robert Harper. He nodded, asked her if that was all, and then said he’d deal with the CPS. Jessica was already on her feet in the doorway when the red mist hit. It had been building for so long that she was pointing a finger and shouting before she knew what she was doing.

‘No, that’s not all. You do realise he almost got away with it because of you? Whether it was Pomeroy or whoever else, you let them do this and you almost let some kid get the blame for it.’

Cole peered past her along the length of glass where the corridor was empty. ‘If you’re going to raise your voice, can you at least do so when the door’s closed?’

Jessica slammed it. ‘That’s your answer?’

Cole remained sitting, voice calm. ‘I was asked to do something by a member of the command team. I did as I was told.’

‘You did as you were told without asking questions!’

‘Perhaps that’s something you need to learn? We got there in the end, didn’t we?’

Jessica couldn’t believe what she was hearing. Getting there in the end shouldn’t be the way they did things. She spat the reply. ‘I know what you did.’

Cole’s lip were sealed but he snorted ever so slightly through his nose, nodding. ‘Do you?’

‘Yes.’

Without a word, he dug into his pocket and took out a set of keys. He turned and unlocked a black metal filing cabinet behind him, reaching into the bottom drawer and taking out a shoebox. He locked everything back up before turning towards Jessica and offering her the box. ‘Go on.’

Jessica took it hesitantly, lifting the lid and pulling out tightly packed folded newspapers. At the bottom was something she recognised. Something she hadn’t seen since a cold evening in a cobbled alleyway.

‘These are my glasses,’ she whispered, barely believing they were there.

‘I know.’

She glanced up. ‘Where did you find them?’

‘I think you know.’

Suddenly, the fact that Cole had been cold with her for months made sense. ‘I—’

‘I don’t want to hear what you have to say. I’m still a police officer. Sometimes it’s better not to know.’

‘But—’

Cole spun and grabbed her wrist. ‘Stop, Jessica. They were found at a crime scene where someone was shot dead. No witnesses and a gunman that apparently had no connection to him. I don’t want to know the rest.’

‘I didn’t—’

‘STOP!’

Cole’s voice thundered around the room and he gripped Jessica’s wrist so tightly that she dropped the box.

‘I don’t want to know,’ he added, still shouting. ‘Just take those and do whatever you want with them – but if you want to lecture anyone else about what they get up to, then perhaps you should look at yourself.’

Jessica picked the box up and began to put the newspaper back in.

Cole’s voice was almost back to normal when he spoke again: ‘You should know that I’ve already put my notice in. I finish officially on December the thirty-first. There’s going to be an announcement soon. Pratley’s review is due on January the second but Greater Manchester Police’s past behaviour is going to be branded “institutionally corrupt”. It won’t affect anything from the past ten years or so – but it will still recommend a top-down reshuffle. It’s going to be a very different place to work from next year.’

‘How do you know that?’

He snorted again. ‘Because when you mix with others and don’t spend all your time working against them, believe it or not, some people are more willing to talk to you.’

‘I’m sorry, I—’

‘I don’t want to talk about it. We’ve got a few more weeks and then we go our separate ways – but if you think I’m such a bad guy after everything that’s happened, then perhaps you should ask yourself who put that letter through your door.’