Cooper’s previously black hair was greyed now and cropped close to his skull, unevenly done, like a home-shave job made by an unsteady hand. His skin was pallid and deep wrinkles had settled between his brows and around his mouth, his forehead set in a permanent crease of concentration or contrition. He sat down in a chair next to the dead electric fire, hands tucked together between his knees, his whole body bent over to avoid looking at them.
Zigic looked around the living room, saw a woman’s touch had been in evidence once but maybe not now. The decor was at least twenty years out of date, all burnt umber and ochre yellow, the sofa was old but the TV new, while a smell of air freshener did little to cover the scent of confined male body.
‘You seen your mate Lee Walton lately?’ Adams asked, taking a seat on the sofa opposite Cooper.
Cooper shook his head but he looked confused, Zigic thought. Whatever he was expecting from them it wasn’t this.
‘You know he went away?’
His knees started jiggling. ‘I heard.’
‘Didn’t do his time though,’ Adams said. ‘Not like you did. Walton got lucky, in and out in less than six months. For what he did. All those women he hurt. That seem fair to you, Neal?’
‘I dunno.’
‘You did twelve years. While Lee gets away with murder.’
Cooper said nothing, kept looking at the carpet between his feet.
Adams was watching him carefully, unblinking.
‘We’re running a cold case review,’ he said. ‘You understand what that is, Neal? It means we’re looking into old murders where the conviction is in dispute.’
‘I didn’t do anything,’ Cooper said, risking a quick glance at him. Zigic saw the fear in his eyes.
‘That’s exactly what we were thinking,’ Adams told him conspiratorially. ‘But what we’re wondering is why you confessed to Tessa’s murder.’
Zigic rolled his eyes. Was this the best he had? Waltzing in and laying it all out to this man, who they knew next to nothing about. Who Adams had clearly assumed was an idiot underserving of finesse or guile.
‘She was your friend, wasn’t she, Neal?’
He nodded.
‘And someone killed her.’
‘I don’t want to talk about Tessa any more.’
He started worrying at a patch of worn fabric on the arm of the chair. Zigic noticed the red skin around his nail beds, the chewed-up cuticles.
‘Someone followed Tessa,’ Adams said, moving to the edge of his seat. ‘Someone watched her, waited until she was in an isolated spot. And when he was sure nobody else was around, he dragged her off the path, into the leaves and the dirt, and he strangled her.’
Zigic watched Cooper, waiting for some kind of reaction. One he couldn’t control. Some trace of remembered pleasure or still-fresh guilt. But he saw nothing except an overwhelming desire for Adams to stop talking in the way Cooper tucked his chin down into his chest and drew his heels closer in to the chair, his hands twitching like he wanted to cover his ears.
‘It takes a long time to strangle someone, Neal.’ Adams voice was low and dark. ‘People don’t realise that. They see it done on TV and think it’s all over in a few seconds. But it takes two minutes, three maybe, if she’s strong. Do you think Tessa was the kind of girl who fought back?’
Cooper was shaking now and Zigic thought of all the murderers he’d seen faced with the truth of their crimes, how none of them could entirely contain themselves when the memory of it was stirred afresh. A murder like Tessa Darby’s, men who did something like that, you always caught a hint of satisfaction on their faces. Even the smartest killers couldn’t hide that.
Cooper looked like he wanted to cry.
‘Can you imagine it, Neal?’ Adams asked, almost whispering. ‘Pushing Tessa face down into the dirt and feeling her fighting for her life, minute after minute. And it isn’t ending, she’s still there, trying to save herself. Can you imagine what that would feel like? Knowing you could stop and she’d live but you don’t, you keep going and still she’s alive and kicking but it’s getting weak. You can feel the life going out of her under you. How do you think that feels?’
A tear ran down Cooper’s grey-stubbled cheek. ‘I don’t know,’ he said, his creaky voice barely audible.
Adams glanced at Zigic, a split second of ‘I told you so’.
‘Why did you confess, Neal?’
He just shook his head, a low humming noise vibrating around his throat.
‘Did someone threaten you?’
‘I don’t want to talk to you.’ He looked up finally, eyes bloodshot and wet, his mouth contorted with pain. ‘Leave me alone. Get out of my house. I don’t have to talk to you.’
‘Did Lee Walton threaten you, Neal?’
‘Get out.’
Adams stood up but only moved in closer to Cooper. ‘Did Walton kill Tessa?’
Cooper started humming again, louder now.
‘If Walton killed Tessa and you covered for him, then every other crime he committed is your fault, Neal.’
Zigic grabbed Adams by the elbow, tried to pull him away, but he snatched his arm back and leaned down into Cooper’s face, hands on the arms of the chair, mouth inches from his ear.
‘That makes you an accessory,’ he said. ‘You understand what that means? It means you go back to prison.’
Cooper shot to his feet, shoving Adams away from him. Zigic braced himself to tackle the man but he made no further move, only stood panting in front of them as if he didn’t know what to do next.
Slowly Zigic stepped between them. ‘Neal, we’re just trying to find out what really happened to Tessa, alright? I can see how upset you are right now. I saw that in the statements you gave to our colleagues all those years ago. She was your friend and you were obviously devastated about what happened to her.’
‘I loved her,’
