eyes, knowing I’m going to be waiting here a while.

Landry comes in an hour later, and he has Schroder with him.

That means one of them is going to be my friend while the other puts on the pressure. I already know who will play what role, and I figure they know I’ll know that too. They set up a video camera and point it so it covers all three of us. I can hear it recording.

Schroder sits opposite me and Landry stands. It’s pretty cold in here, especially as I’m dressed for summer.

Schroder sits a folder on the table and opens the cover. There are photographs of Father Julian in there. His head has been beaten in, blood all over his face and neck. His clothing is dishevelled.

One eye is open, but the other is closed because of the way his face is pressing against the floor. He doesn’t look like he died easy.

Not like I could have earlier on today out in the woods. His open eye has a tiny pool of blood in it. Schroder starts to lay the photos out on the table. There is a close-up one of Father Julian’s mouth.

His lips are open; his teeth are exposed and bloody. Behind them is a deep darkness.

‘Some ground rules first,’ Schroder says. ‘You know how this

goes, you’ve been on this side of the table, so we’re not going to try and play you. We’re just gonna lay out the facts and you’re gonna get to state your case. That sound good to you?’

I shrug. ‘Sure. What about my lawyer? You think it’ll sound

good to him?’

‘You can have a lawyer if you want one. We’re not going to

feed you that bullshit line about only guilty men wanting them.’

‘Let’s just get this over with then.’

He slides a piece of paper over to me. ‘Just sign this,’ he says.

I don’t read it over. I just check a few of the words to make

sure it’s the same form I used to slide over the table to people. It’s a waiver, saying I’m happy to talk without a lawyer present.

‘What’s the problem?’ Landry asks. ‘You decided maybe you’ve

got something you don’t want to share with us?’

I sign the form. The alternative is to phone Donovan Green

and get him down here.

The form disappears back into the folder. The photographs of

Father Julian remain.

‘The message is clear,’ Landry says.

‘What message?’

He looks at Schroder and shrugs, as if he really can’t believe what he just heard. Schroder lays out a few more photographs.

‘You didn’t want him to talk,’ Schroder says. And you wanted

to leave him a message. That’s why you cut out his tongue.’

hang on a second,’ I say, leaning forward.

‘Why are you in such a mess?’ Landry asks. ‘You’re covered in

blood. In dirt. What have you been doing? You’ve been burying

something?’

‘I was in an accident last night.’

‘And you were cleaned up. All the clothes you were wearing today are in your washing machine. They all have blood on them too?’ Schroder asks.

‘You’d have been better off dumping them, Tate,’ Landry says.

‘All those years busting people for this same kind of shit, I’d have thought you’d have learned more.’

‘When the hell did you make it a law that a man can’t start

cleaning up after himself?’

‘The way you’ve been lately,’ Landry says, leaning against the wall, ‘we’ve all thought it was a law you’d made.’

I look at their positions. One sitting. One standing. One my

friend, the other my enemy. The acting is going to be a stretch for only one of these men. Soon Landry will pace behind me, in and out of view, then he’ll lean over me. The game they said they wouldn’t play they’re already playing. They have to. They don’t know how to do it any other way.

‘Why don’t you tell us about Julian?’ Schroder asks. ‘Why were you following him?’

“I haven’t been following him, and I certainly didn’t do this to him. First of all, if I was trying to leave a message by cutting out his tongue, the only person that message could be for would be you guys, right? I mean, Jesus, it’d be stupid of me to have done that.’

‘Listen to him,’ Landry says, looking at Schroder but really

talking to me. ‘He thinks there’s some sense in all of this.’

“I didn’t kill him.’

‘Try selling us another story,’ Landry says. “Nobody in this

room has any false pretences about what you’re capable of, Tate.’

‘Look, Tate, cut us some slack here, okay?’ Schroder says. ‘You know how it works. You can sit there all night stonewalling us, but in the end we’ll learn what we need to from you. Why don’t you save us all some time?’

I look at the photos of the dead priest. There are eight of

them. ‘Why? So you can pin this bullshit on me?’

‘If you didn’t kill him, then what’s the problem? The evidence will prove that.’

‘Depends on how you’re going to look at the evidence. Seems

to me you’re already looking at it and don’t have a fucking clue how to read it properly’

‘We’re wasting our time,’ Landry says. ‘I say we lock him up

and tell his fellow prisoners he used to be a cop. Let them loosen him up.’

‘Yeah, good one, Landry’

‘Why were you following him?’ Schroder asks.

‘Like I said, I wasn’t following him.’

Schroder presses on. ‘What were you doing before the

accident?’

“I wasn’t following him.’

‘We know you weren’t following him at that point,’ Landry

adds. ‘He was already dead by then.’

‘We need to show him a few things,’ Schroder says, then he

stands up and walks out of the room. Landry doesn’t fill the

empty seat. He pushes his hands against the top of it and leans forward.

‘You used to be one of us,’ he says. ‘What in the hell

happened?’

‘What do you think?’

Before he can answer, Schroder steps back in. He has a

cardboard box full of plastic bags. I can’t tell how many there are as they all blend into one. He starts laying them out on the table.

‘The watch,’ he says, ‘used to belong to Gerald Weiss. He was

buried with it two years ago. So how is it you’ve come to own

it?’

“I found it.’

‘There are two ways you could have got it,’ Landry says.

‘Either you stole it off a dead man when you were in the water, or you stole it off a dead man when you were pulling him out of his coffin.’

‘Even you’re doing a shitty job of trying to believe that,’ I say, and Landry looks pissed off. ‘You’re trying too hard here. And one day that’s going to come back and kick you in the arse. You’re going to try too damn hard, and people are going to suffer for it.’

‘You’re either a thief or a killer,’ Landry says firmly, as if they are one in the same. “I think that’s why you were so damn keen to help out with the exhumation of Henry Martins. You knew

who was going to be in there. You wanted to try and control the situation. But the problem was the corpses, right? They floated up. If they hadn’t, we’d never have known about the others.’

‘Look, cut the routine or I’m gonna change my mind and ask

for my lawyer.’

Schroder slides over another bag. It has the newspaper articles I found in Alderman’s bedroom. ‘You’ve been holding back on

us,’ he says, adding the printouts I made when sketching out

the timelines of obituaries and the missing girls. ‘You knew long before us who was in the ground.’

‘That’s because I used to do this too,’ I say, and it’s true. I used to do this, and between the times I did and the times I haven’t nothing really has changed. Violent acts are still a huge part of this city, as are the grey skies and the rain waiting at the threshold of every cooling hour. Bad things happening to good people.

There are kids in this city being born, being loved, growing up into the choices that make them good or bad. There are kids out there without any chance at all. Some will become good, some