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By Root 657 0

didn’t even try to guess what was going on in her head; he was too busy trying to corral his own thoughts. He knew he’d behaved inconsistently: throwing Goodhew out of his team and then having him back within hours made no sense. And formally disciplining him would have been the right thing to do, not treating him as if the normal rules hadn’t been written to include him. Police work was a science, and therefore Goodhew could not be allowed to run around working to his own agenda. And Marks realized that failing to control him would ultimately be no one’s responsibility but his own.

And yet.

And yet.

And yet.

Marks knew that what Goodhew possessed was a talent, a gift for people and truth and logic that didn’t come with any amount of training. Marks knew he’d be a fool to condone it, but trying to extinguish it ultimately seemed the greater crime. In those long ten minutes he knew it was now time to decide.

FORTY-NINE

Goodhew reached the interview room door and took a deep breath before pushing it open. Meanwhile, he silently thanked Marks for giving him another chance and, equally silently, promised not to mess it up.

Marks didn’t even acknowledge his arrival, but Jackie Moran wriggled slightly in her chair when she saw him, not in a restless way but with a shift of weight that made it look like she was settling down, ready for a long interview.

He didn’t wait for Marks to speak. ‘How are you?’ he asked her.

‘Tired,’ she replied.

‘Can I make a suggestion?’

‘Go on.’

But Marks interrupted. ‘Wait,’ he said quietly, then stood up and rested his hand on Goodhew’s shoulder. The touch was brief but handed him every opportunity he’d hoped for. ‘Carry on without me,’ the DI added, unnecessarily.

When the door closed behind Marks, Goodhew began again. ‘I’m sorry I made you cry.’

‘Don’t worry about it.’

‘Can we start by clearing the air – and putting all the other times we’ve spoken to one side. I now understand why you didn’t tell me about Colin Willis, or about knowing Joanne Reed. Whatever you’ve said so far doesn’t matter.’

‘But you know things about me.’

‘Just tell me your version.’

‘What, about my father’s journal?’ She tried to look defiant, but there was the slightest quake in her voice, and he wanted that to be the real Jackie Moran.

‘No, forget your father just for now. You don’t have to live under the shadow of everything he wrote, especially when he was mistaken. Imagine nothing had happened to your little brother or to Joanne Martin. Imagine you could have the freedom to do whatever you wanted with the rest of your life, what would you do?’

‘That’s a stupid question.’

‘Why?’

‘Because . . .’ She tried to leave it there, but he waited in silence longer than she could. ‘Because, that’s not where I am.’

‘You’re wrong, it’s exactly where you are. How old are you?’

‘Thirty, but you already know that.’

‘Thirty? Well, in ten years’ time, when you’re forty, and in the same place you were at thirty, which was the same as at twenty, you may as well assume the pattern’s been set for the rest of your life.’

She looked unimpressed. ‘If you were at least forty, I might buy that, but you’re younger than me, so I’m sitting here thinking: what do you know?’

Goodhew had a flash of clarity, the kind that he knew from playing chess, one where he could read the board and mentally jump three or four moves ahead. It largely depended on how well you knew your opponent and understood their game plan.

Jackie now wavered between looking stubborn and depressed. As far as Goodhew was concerned, that amounted to one hundred per cent defensive play. ‘What if I come up with a really good answer?’ As she thought him so young, he thought he’d try a burst of boyish charm and managed a cheeky flicker of the right eye that stopped just short of a wink.

She snorted briefly and one corner of her mouth twitched. ‘Go on, then.’

Good, that was move one achieved: a sudden release of excess tension.

‘OK, I know this is very important, so I’ll need a minute to think. What do Iknow?’ he pondered. He watched her watching him as