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tell him about the call, but he could hear that voice threatening him. Would he know? Kane’s eyes were pleading with Officer Richards but he couldn’t verbalise his pain.
    ‘No problem,’ Richards said. ‘Goodbye.’
    Kane locked the door behind him and went back to the window. He watched as Richards exited the building and walked to his car, got in and drove away. With his breath fogging the windowpane, he stared at the police car is it turned a corner and disappeared.
    Your friend owes me something. I’ll be in touch.

Chapter 4
     
     
    The hospital morgue was cold, the walls sweating damp. Kane closed his eyes. Ryan looked like a teenager, like a sick kid, his skin a dappled grey, his cheeks slightly sunken. Kane looked away and ran a hand over his face.
    ‘I’ll wait outside,’ the doctor said.
    Kane sat in the chair and clasped his fingers together, inhaling deeply and breathed out through puffed-up cheeks. He looked at Ryan. He seemed restful and at peace.
    Kane bit his lip.
    The wound on Ryan’s chest, under the sheet, had been sown up, Kane was told. He wanted to see it but his hand wouldn’t pull the sheet back. His eyes filled with tears.
    The door behind him opened. ‘Kane?’
    He turned, brushing at his tears with his sleeve.
    ‘Oh, Kane, no…’
    Margaret Bernhard rushed to him, falling into his arms as he stood. They sobbed together, their tears fusing on their cheeks, her arms about his shoulders. Then she turned away, steadying her breathing.
    ‘I can’t look,’ she admitted.
    Kane touched her shoulder.
    ‘I can’t believe it, Kane. Is this real?’
    ‘I wish it wasn’t.’
    They were silent. Margaret took his hand and turned. Her lips trembled, eyes puffy and red. She stepped forward, bracing her strength against the chair.
    She looked at Ryan.
    ‘Oh, my baby,’ she exhaled and she sobbed again, her hand on his face.
    And right then, seeing the grief on Margaret’s face, feeling the pain like Death himself had jabbed him with his scythe, Kane couldn’t help thinking, Did Ryan bring this on himself? Was it his own fault that he lay now, as he did, naked in life’s own mortality?
    Kane put a hand to the pain at his breastbone. He could feel his heart beating.
    ‘Baby,’ Margaret said again. She kissed Ryan’s forehead, both his cheeks, and finally his lips. And she took his hands and joined them together as if in prayer. She whispered something in his ear, a blessing maybe, and she turned away from him.
    * * *
     
    They sat together opposite Detective Thorpe in his office. ‘I won’t believe it,’ Margaret had said. She was wringing a tissue in her hands while Kane sat passively beside her, staring at the floor.
    Thorpe had invited them here to go over the case history with Margaret.
    ‘I understand how you feel,’ Thorpe said.
    Margaret shook her head adamantly. ‘No, it isn’t possible. Not Ryan.’ She turned to Kane. ‘Tell him, Kane.’
    ‘They have evidence,’ Kane said, his voice weak. It felt like a betrayal.
    ‘I don’t care what they have,’ she said. ‘I know he wouldn’t do drugs.’
    Thorpe stood and cleared his throat. ‘It’s a lot to take in. I understand. Believe me I do. Mrs Bernhard, I—’
    She shook her head again, looked at Kane. ‘Do you believe him?’
    ‘I…’
    ‘You believe he was doing drugs?’
    ‘No,’ he said. ‘I don’t know.’
    She took his hands in her own, held them tight. ‘In all the time you’ve known him, have you ever seen him do drugs?’
    ‘No. But…’
    She let go of his hands, folded her arms. To Thorpe, she said, ‘As soon as you find out who murdered my son, you’ll call me. And you tell them—tell them I’ll visit them in jail every day for the rest of my life so that they’ll never forget the face of the mother they made childless. You tell them that.’
    She stood up, faced Thorpe over the mountain of paperwork on his desk, and then she turned and left.
    Kane caught up with her as she was heading