“Was it…? I mean… I’ve heard about what strychnine does.”
“Did you ever contact Emily after she’d gone home?”
“I didn’t even know she’d gone home. You never told me whether you’d found her or not, or whether she’d agreed to go back. To be honest, if I didn’t read the papers pretty thoroughly I wouldn’t even have known she was dead. I recognized the photo, but not her name.”
“I understand you were in London yesterday?”
“That’s right.”
“Any particular reason?”
“I don’t see what it’s got to do with you, but I had two business appointments – and they are listed here in my appointment book, so you can check them if you want – and I also wanted to have a look at some new photographic equipment. The High Street here may be quaint, but you must have noticed that it’s hardly chocka-block with camera shops.”
“And you had lunch with Ruth Walker?”
“Again, that’s right.”
“She had a cold, didn’t she?”
“She was sniffling a bit, yeah. So what?”
“What did you talk about?”
“We were both stunned to hear of Louisa’s death. I suppose we wanted to mourn her together for a while, toast our memories of her. She’d been important to both of us, after all.”
“Could Ruth have been jealous of you and Emily?”
“I can’t see why. It’s not as if Ruth and me were ever lovers or anything.”
“But she might have wanted it that way.”
“She never said anything. Like I told you before, Ruth and me were just good friends. There was nothing… you know… like that between us.”
“At least not in your mind.”
“It’s the only one I can speak for.”
“Perhaps she wanted there to be something?”
Craig shrugged. “I didn’t fancy her in that way, and I’m pretty sure she knew it. Besides, what you’re suggesting is absurd. If Ruth had to be jealous of anyone, it should have been the new boyfriend. He took Emily completely away from both of us.”
“Jealousy’s rarely rational, Craig. Emily breezed in and out of your lives and tossed you both aside. At least that’s how Ruth put it. How did you feel about that?”
“Ruth can be a bit melodramatic when the mood takes her. How did I feel? You know damn well how I felt. I told you last time you were here, when you were pretending to be her father. I was devastated. Hurt. Heartbroken. But I got over it.”
“Only after you’d followed her around for a while.”
“Yeah, well, I’m not proud of that. I wasn’t thinking clearly.”
“Maybe you weren’t thinking clearly when you killed her?”
“That’s absurd. No matter how cynical you are, I loved her and I would never have hurt her.”
“So you said. Are you sure?”
“Of course I’m sure. Look, are you suggesting I killed her over three months after she dumped me?”
“People have been known to brood for longer. Especially stalkers.”
“Well, I didn’t. And I’m getting sick of this. I don’t want to answer any more questions.” He stood up. “And if you want anything more out of me, you’ll have to arrest me.”
Banks sighed. “I don’t want to do that, Craig. Really, I don’t. Too much paperwork.”
“Then you’d better leave. I’ve had enough.”
“I suppose I had,” said Banks, who had asked almost all the questions he wanted. “But there is one small thing you might be able to help me with.”
Craig looked at him through narrowed eyes. “Go on.”
“Last time I came to see you, you told me that when you saw Emily with her boyfriend in London, you were taking candid pictures in the street, right?”
“Yes.”
“Were you really taking pictures or just pretending for the sake of cover?”
“I took some candids. Yes.”
“Do you still have the photos from that day?”
“Yes.”
“Do you have one of Clough?”
“I think so, yes. Why?”
“I know you’re pissed off at me, Craig, but would you do me a favor and make me a copy?”
“I could do that. Again, though, why? Oh, I see. You want to show it around up north, don’t you? Find out if anyone saw him up there. I suppose he’s got a watertight alibi, doesn’t he?”
“Something like that,” said Banks. “Believe me, it would be a great help.”
“At least you’re thinking in the right direction again,” said Craig. “I can probably get some prints to you by tomorrow.”
“What about now?”
“Now?”
“Sooner the better.”
“But I’d have to get set up. I mean… it’d take a bit of time.”
“I can come back.” Banks looked at his watch. Lunchtime. “How about I pop down to the nearest pub and have some lunch while you do the prints, then I’ll come back and pick them up.”
Craig sighed. “Anything to get you off my back. Try The Plough, down by the roundabout, end of the High Street. And you don’t need to come back. I’ll drop them off there. Half an hour to an hour, say?”
“I’ll be there,” said Banks.
“Will you do me a favor in exchange?”
“Depends.”
“When’s the funeral going to be?”
“That depends on when the coroner releases the body.”
“Will you let me know? Her parents don’t know me, so they won’t invite me, but I’d like… you know… at least to be there.”
“Don’t worry, Craig. I’ll let you know.”
“Thanks. Now, I suppose I’d better get up to the darkroom.”
Of all the different ways that Annie had tried to imagine this moment turning out – confronting her rapist – the one thing that had never occurred to her was that it would end with a sense of anticlimax, of disappointment.
But disappointment was exactly what she felt as she stood in front of Wayne Dalton on the banks of the River Swale, with a pile of steaming cow-clap between them. Indifference, even.
Her heart was still pounding, but more from the anticipation and the long walk than from the actual encounter, and he looked like a guilty schoolboy caught masturbating in the toilets. But instead of the monster she had created in her mind, what stood before her was all too human. Dalton wasn’t frightening; he was pathetic.
For a few moments they just stared at each other. Neither spoke. Annie felt herself calming down, becoming centered. Her heart returned to its normal rhythm; she was in control.
Finally, Dalton broke the silence. “What are you doing here?”
“I work here. Eastvale. I followed you.”
“My God. I never knew… What do you want?”
“I don’t know,” Annie replied honestly. “I thought I wanted revenge, but now I’m here it doesn’t seem important anymore.”
“If it’s any consolation,” said Dalton, avoiding her eyes, “there’s not a day gone by when I haven’t regretted that night.”
“Regretted that you didn’t get to finish what you started?”
“That’s not what I mean. We were insane, Annie. I don’t know what happened. The drink. The herd mentality.” He shook his head.
“I know. I was there.” Calm as she was inside, Annie felt tears prickling her eyes and she hated the idea of crying in front of Dalton. “You know, I’ve dreamed of this moment, of meeting one of you alone like this, of crushing you. Now we’re here, though, it really doesn’t matter.”
“It does matter, Annie. It matters to me.”
“What do you mean? And don’t you dare call me Annie.”
“Sorry. The guilt. That’s what I’m talking about. What I have to live with, day in, day out.”
Annie couldn’t stop herself from laughing. “Oh, Wayne,” she said, “that’s a good one. That’s really good one. Are you asking me for forgiveness?”