In an upbeat, breezy voice she turned back to the governor who was hovering nearby. ‘So, let’s go see Mr McKenna.’

Governor Gallagher took the hint and started walking towards the door with the clear indication they should follow. Rowlands moved in behind him, with Jessica at the back. She was just about to exit the viewing area when Lee Morgan called after her. ‘There’s, er, nothing improper, y’know . . .’

Jessica heard him perfectly well but didn’t even break stride.

The journey back through the prison to the interview room had been another silent affair. Jessica figured that if Farraday had been serious about her ‘putting the shits’ up the prison staff, he would be pretty pleased. She also wondered if the governor would follow through with his mention of calling DSI Aylesbury. Ultimately, she hadn’t outright accused anyone of doing anything untoward and if they chose to take her insinuations that way, it was up to them.

The governor led them up a flight of steps Jessica recognised and they were soon back by the interview room. He unlocked the door and let them in. ‘McKenna is next door,’ he said. ‘Assuming it’s okay with you, I’ll tell them to bring him through in five minutes. Everything you need should already be here.’

Jessica had a quick look over the recording banks and nodded. ‘Thanks very much for your assistance, Governor Gallagher. You’ve been enormously helpful.’

The governor clearly had little intention of keeping up the pretence of being civil any longer, grunting and walking backwards out of the room.

‘He was very ingratiating,’ Rowlands said after the room had cleared. Jessica simply looked at him. ‘What?’ he added.

‘I am going to get to the bottom of where all these long words are coming from because I know – and you know – that you’re simply not intelligent enough to know them off the top of your head.’

The two officers readied the room and a few moments later heard some clanging noises from the corridor. Just afterwards, the door opened again and Jessica felt a twinge of déjà vu as the same suited solicitor from a few days ago entered with a handcuffed Donald McKenna just behind him. They each seemed to be wearing the exact same clothing as from their previous meeting and sat in the same places. If it wasn’t for Rowlands being present instead of Cole, it would have been almost an exact rerun of the setup from their first interview.

Jessica got the introductions out of the way and then asked her colleague for the set of two folders he had carried around all morning. From the first one, she took out a photo of Craig Millar. It was an enlarged copy of his regular mug shot, the most recent picture they had of him alive. She slid the photo face up across the table towards Donald McKenna.

‘Do you know who this man is, Mr McKenna?’

He picked up the photo with his cuffed hands, studying it with a quizzical look as if trying to remember something. His solicitor motioned to look at it and McKenna angled it towards him. ‘You asked me that before. I told you then – he sort of seems familiar but I can’t say I know him.’

He handed the picture back and Jessica put it in the folder, pulling out a second photograph. ‘What about this one?’ She slid the second item face down across the table and McKenna picked it up. He turned the picture over and rocked back slightly, handing it to the solicitor.

The man in the suit instantly put it back on the table face down. ‘Was that really necessary?’ he asked.

Jessica picked the photograph up and turned it over. It showed Craig Millar’s face close-up with a gaping, bloodied wound in his neck. ‘Do you recognise that one, Mr McKenna?’

The solicitor went to speak again but his client simply said, ‘No.’

Jessica nodded slightly and took the photo back, again returning it to the folder and removing two photos from the second cardboard document wallet. ‘What about this pair?’

This time, she held the photos up. They were two more mug shots: one Ben Webb, the other Des Hughes.

‘Benjamin and Desmond.’ McKenna’s response was instant. ‘They were both on the same block as myself.’

He took his gaze from the two photos to look directly at Jessica. She put the photos back down on the table and met his eyes. ‘Did you associate with them much?’

‘They weren’t interested in the word of God.’

‘That isn’t what I asked.’

‘No I did not.’

‘Do you know all three men are dead?’

‘I had been told. I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘Really?’

‘We are all God’s children.’

‘Why was your blood found under the fingernails of Craig Millar?’

‘I don’t know.’

‘Why were your hairs found at the scene where Benjamin Webb and Desmond Hughes were killed?’

‘I don’t know.’ Donald McKenna hadn’t taken his eyes from Jessica throughout the entire exchange. In their previous meeting she had felt unnerved by his willingness to engage. There was something slightly different about this encounter though. She wouldn’t have said she felt intimidated but there was definitely an undertone to his words and his eyes were mesmerising. They were deep and blue, looking straight through her. Jessica paused and the two of them gazed at each other.

The tension was broken by McKenna’s solicitor. ‘I would like to point out that my client has been cooperative throughout. This morning, for instance, he willingly submitted to a mouth swab despite not being charged with any further crime and having no legal reason to do so.’

Jessica didn’t want to break the stare-off with the prisoner but felt obliged to acknowledge the man’s legal representative. She looked directly at the suited man, who seemed to shrink under her stare. ‘I’m sure the post-office workers he threatened with a shotgun would be delighted to hear what a role model he has become.’

The solicitor motioned as if to answer but, as he had done on the previous visit, McKenna lifted his handcuffed wrists from the table as if to indicate he was fine. ‘I regret what I did,’ he said solemnly.

Jessica couldn’t figure out if he was being genuine or not. She met his eyes again. ‘Did you ever fall out with either Mr Webb or Mr Hughes?’

‘No.’

‘Have you ever fallen out with anyone at this prison?’

‘Not recently. In my younger days maybe but not for a while.’

The solicitor was clearly getting frustrated. ‘Detective, we’re going around in circles here. My client has clearly said he has not had any significant contact with any of the victims. There may be people who might wish him ill will because of his previous misdeeds but he cannot think of anyone specifically. What’s more, as if I have to remind you, my client is in prison. If you want to charge him with any crimes, then can I suggest you do so?’

Jessica shifted her gaze from McKenna and looked to his representative. ‘Did you rehearse that in bed last night?’

The solicitor shuffled back slightly in his seat and looked back at her with his mouth open. ‘Sorry?’

‘Was there some legal drama on TV last night that got you all excited? Got you thinking you could end up like some big-shot barrister?’

The man in the suit stared at her, clearly not knowing how he should respond. ‘Do you have any further questions to ask my client? If not, can we end this now?’

Jessica turned back to McKenna. She knew she didn’t have anywhere to go. The reason she was so annoyed with the solicitor was because he was right. There was no realistic way they could charge his client with anything as there was no chance of any kind of conviction, even if the new forensic samples came back with the same results. He was still their only lead though and was linked to the scenes not only through his DNA but because he had been inside with all three victims at the same time.

‘How is your relationship with Warden Morgan?’

For the first time, McKenna stopped looking at her. He glanced at the table, then Rowlands, then back to her. ‘He’s a fair man.’