But McKenna was seated in a way Jessica had never seen before; he was simply relaxed, as if lounging at home watching television or in his local pub with a pint. His wrists were handcuffed but he had interlinked his fingers and put them on the table between them. He was looking at her but not in an intimidating way, he was smiling. It wasn’t even a menacing gaze; he genuinely seemed pleased to be talking to them. Jessica could deal with aggression and thugs who thought they were big-time but a person being nice was something she wasn’t used to.

Cole formally cautioned the suspect and briefly explained why they were there. The solicitor looked on unbelievingly at the two of them, shaking his head. After her superior had finished speaking, he moved his chair backwards away from the table a few inches.

She never really planned out how she was going to tackle an interview, instead trusting her instincts. Something about Donald McKenna unnerved her though. He was still smiling and had gone from watching Cole speak to looking at her expectantly.

Jessica felt off-guard and ended up asking the one question she hadn’t planned to, the one that made her sound stupid. To compound things, she asked it first and instantly felt ridiculous as soon as the words came out of her mouth. ‘So, Mr McKenna, how did you get out?’

She sensed Cole shuffling nervously slightly behind her but he said nothing. The man’s solicitor instantly started to interrupt but the suspect nodded along, lifting his hands from the table as if to indicate he was happy to answer. ‘It’s okay.’

His solicitor stopped speaking and the prisoner looked directly at Jessica again. He was still smiling but his light blue eyes had no menace in them. ‘Detective, I really have no wish to escape the punishment I have been given. I sinned and I deserve to pay the price for that.’

It was definitely not the answer Jessica expected and she was aware he hadn’t really addressed the question. The prisoner’s words were clear, his local accent diminished. ‘Can you explain how your blood happened to end up underneath the fingernail of a man who had been stabbed to death?’

‘I’m afraid I cannot.’

‘Where were you three nights ago?’

The inmate could have laughed at her but didn’t. ‘I was in my cell reading until lights out and then I would have been sleeping.’

‘Do you have a cell to yourself?’

‘At the moment, yes.’

If the second set of results came back positive, they would return to have a proper look at the area the prisoner was housed in. For now, they were on a fishing expedition. ‘Do you know a man called Craig Millar? Until very recently he was on remand in this prison.’

‘I’m afraid I don’t have a great memory for names.’

Jessica took a photo from an envelope she had been carrying and slid it across the table. ‘This is the man who was killed. Does his face ring a bell?’

McKenna picked up the image with his cuffed hands and studied it, narrowing his eyes as if to make clear he was concentrating. ‘I don’t believe I know him. We may well have moved in different circles. This is a large establishment.’

Jessica nodded and took the photo back, unsure if she believed him. ‘Do you know anyone who might want to implicate you in a crime?’

He sighed slightly. ‘I’ve wronged many people. I wouldn’t blame any of them for wanting vengeance.’

A thought struck Jessica and she realised she had been a bit slow to understand the significance in the man’s choice of words. ‘Are you religious, Mr McKenna?’

The solicitor went to speak again but the inmate talked over him. ‘I believe the Lord Jesus Christ died to forgive the sins I committed. There isn’t a day that goes by where I don’t regret the things I did and praise God he sent us his son so that I might one day enjoy the gifts of heaven.’

There was a silence after he had spoken. Jessica realised why his demeanour had surprised her. Unlike a lot of criminals, he genuinely was sorry and, more importantly, he wasn’t bitter about being locked up. Religious services were held in prisons and there was a chaplain on offer for people to speak to. Some inmates did ‘find God’ when they were inside and, while there was a possibility McKenna was faking his conversion as prisoners were given benefits for good behaviour, she had a feeling he was being genuine.

Jessica went to ask another question but McKenna spoke before she had a chance. ‘You may ask how a man can walk from an institution such as this but the Lord Jesus walked on water and turned water to wine. If it is His will, a miracle is but the batting of an eyelid.’

5

There hadn’t been much more they could ask after that. Was Donald McKenna implying God had transported him out of prison for some sort of higher calling? Even if he was, Jessica wasn’t entirely sure the Old Testament-style eye-for-an-eye stuff would extend to killing some troublemaker who lived on a Manchester housing estate. There were surely bigger issues in the world that needed addressing first? She thought it was an odd thing to say though. Was McKenna really playing a game with them?

The governor, probably chastened by their refusal to give him much in the way of details, hadn’t returned to talk to them. They had been led back to reception by one of the guards and the prisoner returned to his cell. Jessica tried to walk behind Cole through the front office on their way out in order to not have to engage with Dennis. She feared he would offer her his number or something similar and, even though her superior was a fairly straight guy, he did have a sense of humour when he wanted to. There was no way Jessica could risk something that embarrassing getting around the station.

They were walking to the car when Jessica heard her phone ringing. She wasn’t a technophobe as such but had never really got her head around everything her phone could do. She could use the phone and text messages and the Internet was easy enough but she thought smart-phones were just one step towards robots taking over. She took the ringing device out of her pocket and fumbled with the screen before putting it to her ear. The conversation was fairly short and Jessica felt her mood nosedive further.

‘All right?’ Cole asked, clearly noticing her displeasure.

‘The new test results are back. It’s definitely Donald McKenna’s blood that was found.’

For a guy who usually held back his thoughts, even her superior looked annoyed. He sighed. ‘Great. We’re going to have to see the DCI and then come back here later or tomorrow.’

‘Let’s go to Bradford Park first. Best if we know what we’re talking about before we have to plan what we’re going to do next.’

The Bradford Park base was in the Clayton area very close to Manchester City’s football stadium. It was an important part of the area’s overall policing strategy and lots of money had been spent updating the facility in recent times. Not only was there a neighbourhood team on-site, which would deal with local enforcement, but there was a large number of administration workers based there too. They were not officers but employees of the police force who would deal with things such as Human Resources. The Serious Crime Division, who dealt with organised crime and terrorist threats, worked from there as well.

The reason for their visit was to talk to the forensics staff who had been dealing with the blood samples taken from Craig Millar. There was a whole section of the building given over to scientists and other laboratory workers. People were trained to analyse everything from finger prints to a computer’s hard drive. It was very specialist, technical work but did create divisions between the departments. A lot of officers believed they were on the front line doing the serious labour, with television programmes glorifying the work being done from the safety of a lab. On the other hand, plenty of the forensics workers felt constantly under pressure to prioritise jobs for certain departments, while balancing budgets that included private work and, if they were a member of the Scene of Crime team, getting called out at all hours of the day and night. Both groups seemingly felt underappreciated by the other.