‘What?’ She immediately felt guilty for what she had said to Ross. ‘How?’

‘Perhaps she got a tip-off and went to investigate, thinking that –‘

‘And what about the other body? Is it – ‘

‘The one we’ve been looking for. The one whose eyes were sent to Hoban. Kept him – or her - as some kind of goddamn souvenir.’

Josh stood up, his eyes blazing with anger. He looked at the nondescript house, with its flaking paintwork, its patchy lawn, its shabby surroundings. Who would have guessed that the person who lived here was capable of such crimes? How many other houses like this existed in LA? In America? In the world? He murmured something to himself.

‘What did you say?’ asked Kate.

‘Nothing.’ He couldn’t afford to lose his way now. He had to get on with his job. ‘Where’s Reeves?’ he shouted. ‘Curtis. Is he on his way?’

‘Should be here in twenty minutes.’

‘So you think this is where he – Ryan- lived?’ said Kate, softly.

‘Looks like it. Unless it’s Carl Reckard we’re looking for, which I seriously doubt.’ He turned away from her and walked towards Curtis. ‘Curtis – what’s the latest on the other team? Did they find anything?’

‘I’ve just spoken to them, sir,’ she said. ‘Apparently the house is lived in by a couple of female friends, who knew nothing of either Reckard or Gleason. Occasionally they get a piece of junk mail addressed to Reckard, but apart from that, nothing.’

‘And Roberta Gleason? She’s still secure?’

‘Yep.’

‘Okay. Let’s see if she can tell us anything. Maybe she’s hiding him. Maybe she knew he was alive all along.’

58

Kate watched through the glass as Josh interrogated Roberta. Tears streamed down her face, which was now all red and blotchy. Her eyes looked pained, alive with memories she had tried to bury in the past. Although she knew there was no other way - Josh had to be sure that Roberta was telling the truth – with each question Kate felt like running into the room and shouting at him to stop. She hated to see him behave like this, acting the tough cop, the big man, the adjudicator of right and wrong. She loathed the way he swaggered around the room, the way his eyes hardened, the way his face became fixed and mask-like. In the past there had been a couple of occasions – once in an upscale restaurant in the Hollywood hills, another time at a friend’s gallery opening - when she had had to remind him to stop behaving so bullishly. It was almost like he was conforming to some stereotype, some cliché of how a cop should act. She had told him then that she hated the macho way in which he behaved; but, in truth, it was one of the things that had attracted her to him in the first place.

‘So you’re telling me that you really believe your brother died on the night of April 4 2004?’

‘Yes, how many times have I told you,’ said Roberta, her voice small and weak.

‘So take me through it again. Tell me how it happened. How you heard the news.’

‘I can’t believe this. I feel like I’ve done something wrong. I haven’t. I haven’t. I told you Ryan is dead. He’s dead.’

‘Ms Gleason,’ said Curtis. ‘If you’ll just answer the question please.’

‘My client has already stated her position,’ interrupted her lawyer, a thin, wiry man with skin the colour of straw.

‘Yes, but if she would be kind enough to just repeat the story one more time,’ said Curtis.

The lawyer nodded at Roberta, who took a deep breath and started to speak.

‘On the night of April 4 2004 I came home from work after a long shift at the hospital. I had a shower, made myself a snack and started to watch a bit of late night TV. At about eleven thirty or so, I think it was, the phone rang. It was the police. They asked me to confirm my name and asked whether I had a brother named Ryan. I told them that I had, but that I hadn’t seen him in a couple of years. We had kind of lost touch after what happened with – well, you know. They said they were sending a couple of officers around to the apartment. When I asked them what was going on they said they had some bad news. Ryan had had an accident. A bad one. Apparently he had driven his truck over the edge of a canyon somewhere up near Moreno Valley. They didn’t tell me everything over the phone, but when the cops arrived I knew he was dead. I can’t say I was surprised. I kind of knew something bad would happen to him. I suppose you could say he sort of took after my dad.’

‘And you didn’t go to his funeral, I understand?’ said Curtis.

‘That’s right, I didn’t. I didn’t feel the need to -’

‘So you’re saying that you think he was capable of committing a crime?’ Harper interrupted. ‘The kind of crime your father committed?’

‘I don’t see what that has got to do with anything,’ she said.

‘I’m not at liberty to say at the moment,’ he said. ‘But you are confident that you’ve had no contact with Ryan Gleason since 4 April 2004.’

‘For God’s sake, what are you trying to do? Torture me?’ She looked at her lawyer for help. ‘Of course I haven’t had any contact with Ryan. He’s dead, remember?’

Nobody spoke.

‘Ryan is dead, right?’

Again silence.

In that instant, Roberta understood. The realisation was almost too painful to observe. Kate watched as her face contorted with a new level of suffering. She opened her mouth to speak, but could not utter a word. Then an awful cry, the scream of an animal in pain, filled the room. There was no doubt that what she was feeling was real. Roberta battled to control the waves of pain inside her. She struggled for air like person drowning at sea.

‘Do you want to take a break?’ asked Curtis, in a soothing voice. ‘I think it’s best if we resume the interview a little later.’

Roberta tried to take a series of deep breaths. She was determined to tell the truth. She had survived what her father had done to her. She could get through this.

‘No – I’ll be fine. Just a little water, please.’

Curtis stood up and fetched her a plastic beaker full of water.

‘Thank you,’ she said, taking a sip. ‘There’s something I need to tell you.’

She wiped the tears from her eyes and took another deep breath.

‘Roberta – you don’t need to do this now,’ said her lawyer. ‘If it’s something you haven’t talked through with me then I think –‘