*It sounds like you're in some deep shit, Mr Dobson, and so trust me on this. We'll work out what to say once we know everything else. That will all come out during the interviews.'

*I don't like this,' Mike said.

*It's not about you liking it. It's about getting you through it.'

*But I thought I had to tell you what happened and you advised me,' Mike said. *We don't sit around and plan lies.'

Selby threw his folder onto the table. *You've been arrested for murder, Mr Dobson. This is the real world now, not some fantasy ethical world where everyone follows the rules. You're talking about the rest of your life in a prison cell. If you want that, fine, you go in there and tell them your story, how you were with the dead girl, how that metal pipe was in your garage, and how it's all some almighty coincidence. Go in there and be as lucid as you want and then, when you're looking through the bars of your cell every day until you die, pat yourself on the back and say what a good boy you've been.'

*I just want to tell the truth,' Mike said, perplexed.

*You aren't thinking straight.'

*I'm fine.'

*No, you're not,' Selby said, banging his fist on the table. *We'll get a doctor to say that, don't worry. And we'll get those interviews excluded so that the jury will never hear them.'

Mike shook his head. *I'm not hiding any more.'

*It's not about hiding.'

*What is your job?' Mike asked.

The rep looked surprised. *To advise you, of course.'

*And I can choose not to follow the advice?'

Selby faltered, and then said, *Yes, I suppose so.'

Mike nodded. *You don't have to stay.'

*I want to stay.'

*Why?'

*Because it's a murder,' Selby said, *and you don't walk away from a murder.'

Mike snorted a laugh. *The pay cheque's bigger, I suppose.' When Selby didn't respond, Mike said, *So let me tell my story. I'm not running any more.'

Chapter Sixty-Three.

I was plunged into darkness as I progressed further into the shadow of the wharf. I could still see the canal stretching ahead, the arms of the locks visible against the metallic sheen of the water, but all else was in blackness and I had to edge forward, my hands outstretched. I heard a fluttering sound, and looked up to see a pigeon in one of the vertical shafts in the sloping canopy, a large metal pulley wheel overhead. My hands found the wall and I started to feel my way along, the large stone blocks rough on my hands. I winced as my fingers found the edge of a broken window.

I sucked on my fingers and tasted blood. I cursed Claude Gilbert and wrapped a handkerchief around the cut before inching forward again. I kicked a beer can, the clatter making me jump, and then used my feet to tap against the wall, looking for a way in. I hit only stone for a few steps, and then the sound changed to a thud that echoed-wood. I had found a door. I stepped forward and gave it a push, but it didn't give. I ran my hands over it, feeling for the point at which it changed to stone again. Instead, I felt it begin to lean inwards. My fingers reached the edge of the door and found that there was a gap between it and the door frame.

I pushed at the wood and inserted my foot into the gap, working to widen it until I was able to squeeze my body through. Once inside, my way forward was illuminated by the glow of the moon through the windows on the other side of the building, though the light served to create more shadows, highlighting more potential threats. I could see the outline of graffiti on the walls and, walking forward, I stumbled on discarded bricks and was almost tripped to the floor by some metal brackets still attached to the ground. Remnants of cables hung from the ceiling like Spanish moss and pieces of broken glass blinked the light back at me as I made my way carefully along.

I reached for my phone and held it out, so that the screen cast some light on the way ahead. There were holes in the concrete in places, where pipes had been ripped up, and it looked like I was one wrong step from a broken ankle.

*Claude?' I shouted, but the word just echoed around the empty space.

I stopped, frustrated. I tried calling him again, but his phone was switched off now. I muttered expletives to myself and again used the light from the screen to help me find my way around.

It took me five minutes to thread my way through, weaving past the huge iron pillars that held up the building. I had to duck to avoid the cogs of some old black machinery bolted to an oak beam that ran across the room, all the time moving towards the silver halo of an open door ahead. I fell to my knees twice; by the time I reached the other side of the building, I was bleeding from a cut to my hand and my right knee was grazed. Then I was outside again, looking out over Blackley once more, and still no sign of Claude.

I sat down. All I could do was wait.

Chapter Sixty-Four.

Laura climbed out of bed when she heard the knocking. She checked the clock. Just past one. When she had gone to bed, she had hoped that the next voice she would hear would be the inane chatter of the radio DJ when her alarm sounded.

She peered out of her curtains. There was a Mini there, racing green, and a man at her front door. She didn't recognise him, but she could only see the top of a hat and long hair streaming from it, unkempt and grey.

She looked down at her clothes-loose-fitting pyjamas-and got changed quickly, throwing on some jeans and an old sweatshirt. She didn't know who was there, but it must be urgent if it was this late.

When Laura got downstairs, she shouted through the door, *Who is it?'

*I'm looking for Jack,' came the reply from the other side of the door. The voice was deep, with a hint of public school in the accent.

Laura looked at the door, unsure what to do. *Who are you?' she asked.

*I just need to see Jack,' came the voice again.

She opened the door slowly and was faced with a man, scruffy, wearing a long overcoat and a wide-brimmed hat, with flushed cheeks above a grey beard. His hands and coat looked dirty.

*I'm supposed to meet Jack Garrett here,' he said.

*Who are you?'

He smiled. *Claude Gilbert. I think Jack has been talking about me.'

Laura's hand shot to her mouth. Her mind raced with the descriptions of Claude Gilbert she remembered from the headlines and tried to match it with the person in front of her.

*You're really Claude?'

He looked around, as if someone might be listening, and then he leant forward and raised his finger to his lips. *Quiet please,' he said, and winked. *Not everyone knows.'

Laura opened her door. As he walked in, stale whisky drifted past her nose.

*But he's gone to meet you,' she said, closing the door behind him.

He looked surprised. *He must have got mixed up. I called him back and left him a message, told him that I would come here.'

*Why the change of plan?' Laura asked.

*There were some people there,' he said. *I became scared. I'm sorry.'

Laura looked towards the stairs and thought of Bobby, unsure what to do. Claude Gilbert was in her house. Jack was out there looking for him, the figure in his big story. But he was a fugitive, a wanted murderer. She couldn't let him walk out.

What would Jack say though? She would ruin his big day, the press conference arranged for the morning.

She closed her eyes for a moment to offer a silent apology to Jack, and then said, *I can't let you do this.'

*Do what?'

*Be here, in my house,' she said. *Did Jack tell you what I do for a living?'

Claude sat down on a chair, and groaned as he relaxed. *He didn't need to. I worked it out.'

She stepped forward. *I'm sorry, Claude, but it's over.'

*And you're not prepared to wait for the big exclusive?'

Laura shook her head. *You know what they say, never off duty. I'm going to have to arrest you for the murder of your wife.' She gripped his wrist and reached into her pocket for her phone. *You have the right to remain silent...'

There was a quick movement from Claude and Laura gasped in pain as something hot was sprayed in her face. She stepped away and rubbed her eyes but that made it worse; her eyes were burning, and she stepped away, stumbling slightly.

Then something hit her on the side of the head and she headed towards the floor.

Chapter Sixty-Five.

I tried to be as quiet as I could when I went in. I had waited for Claude until it was obvious he wasn't going to show up, and now it was nearly two o'clock and I wasn't in the mood for an argument about noise.

I was surprised to find the door unlocked. I thought I had secured it when I left, but nothing looked untoward as I went inside, although something in the air made my nose itch and my eyes smart.

I sat down with a slump and rubbed my face with my hands. Claude wasn't there, and he wasn't answering his phone. Neither was Susie. The front pages would be filled with my story on Claude, but now there was no Claude. It was too late to do anything about that, and all I could do now was pray that Claude would call me again.

I thought back to when I was in Claude's apartment, when one call would have brought the police running. Instead I got greedy, thought of the bigger payday when I should have thought of the story.

I looked at the ceiling and thought of the warm bed, Laura in there, but I didn't want to go upstairs and wake her, which is what would happen if my phone rang.

I lay back on the sofa and pulled my coat over my body, my phone next to my head. It was going to be a long night.

Laura was squeezed into the back seat of Claude's Mini, her hands tied behind her back, rope binding her ankles together. The car was old, she could tell that from the vinyl seats and the fusty smell of cigarettes. The fumes from the exhaust seemed to filter into the car, and Claude was driving too fast, every bump in the road jarring her back. It was starting to rain and one of the wiper blades didn't work, so that Claude had to lean forward to get a good view.

She struggled against the ropes, but they were fastened tight, and he had clicked the seatbelt shut. She couldn't get her hands free to undo it.

Laura looked at her lap and concentrated. She had to stay calm. Bobby was on his own in the house. She needed to get back. But it was hard to stay focused with the pain in her cheek from Claude's punch. And her eyes were still smarting from whatever he had sprayed into her eyes. Her face was swelling and her vision was blurred.

Why had it happened? Laura couldn't work it out. And where was Jack? He had gone to the meet. Had something gone wrong there?

Laura looked at Claude in the rearview mirror, and then kicked out at the seat in front, her bound feet having little impact. *What the fuck are you doing, Claude?' she said. *You were going to be arrested tomorrow anyway. Dobson is under arrest. He killed that girl last night. It's all working out for you. Why are you doing this?'

*Things have changed,' he said.

*Like what?'

He didn't say anything, and so Laura kicked out at the seat again, angry, frustrated.

*Take me back,' she shouted. She was about to blurt out that she had a son in the house on his own, but then she realised that it might make him go back-but for the wrong reasons. Every mile they drove took them further from Bobby; he was safer that way.

Claude didn't answer and remained silent for a few more miles. Laura tried to get a sense of where they were going, but she was still new to the North and so her knowledge of the area wasn't that good, although she could see that they were heading for the countryside, not the town.

*Where are we going?' she said.

Claude looked at the mirror. *You do ask a lot of questions.'

*I'm a police officer,' she said. *That's what I do.'

*Bully for you.'

Laura looked out of the window again and tried to stay calm. She had to work out how to get away from him.

*To meet Susie,' he said eventually. When Laura looked back at him, he said, *That's where we're going,' and then he reached into his jacket and produced a whisky flask. He raised it to his mouth and then offered it to Laura. There was dirt jammed under his fingernails.

*Do you think you should, when you're driving?'

*Do you think I'm bothered about drink driving tonight?'

*It might make your arrest come around sooner than you'd want,' she said.

He raised the flask in salute and took a drink. *You better hope for that then.'

*Why? How much worse is it going to get?'

He chuckled to himself. *Aren't surprises better if they stay that way?'

Laura turned away and tried to get her bearings as they travelled. She had to find her way out of this and to do that she needed to summon help. They had headed out of Turners Fold on one of the back roads that ran behind a golf course, and now they were snaking over one of the hills on an unlit road that would eventually take them into the Ribble Valley, a vast area of rolling green fields and old stone hamlets.

*Where's Susie?' Laura asked.