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walked in. Holland announced his entrance for the tape, then paused the recording while Thorne made his apologies to Walker for being late. Walker told him not to worry about it.
    â€˜Traffic’s a nightmare,’ Thorne said.
    He had popped into the Whittington en route and caught the tail-end of the Friday morning rush hour. They had finally performed the D and C the previous afternoon but had kept Louise in overnight. She had eaten an enormous breakfast and was in better spirits than at any time since she and Thorne had been told about the miscarriage. Thorne could not explain why, but it had made him oddly nervous.
    â€˜I just want to get home now,’ she had said.
    He had told her he would do his best to pick her up at lunchtime, or to let her know if there was a problem.
    In the Interview Room, once Thorne had sat down, Holland quickly filled him in on what had been covered so far, and they resumed recording George Walker’s statement.
    â€˜Tell us about when you got back after school,’ Thorne said.
    Walker cleared his throat. ‘It just felt wrong the minute I came through the door,’ he said.
    â€˜Wrong?’
    â€˜Different . . .’
    â€˜This would have been what time?’
    â€˜Just before five,’ Walker said. ‘I run a chess club after school on a Wednesday. Otherwise it would have been earlier.’
    Thorne glanced over at Holland, made sure he saw the significance, then nodded to Walker to continue.
    â€˜I caught a whiff of something, which was . . . the blood, obviously. There was a vase on the floor in the hall, and water everywhere. She must have tried to fight him off, don’t you think?’
    â€˜We’re still trying to put it all together,’ Holland said.
    â€˜So, I was calling Emily’s name out in the hall, and then I walked into the kitchen. Well, you saw it.’
    â€˜And you phoned us straight away, didn’t you?’ Thorne glanced down at his notes, although he knew the time very well. ‘We’ve got the call to the emergency services logged at four fifty-six. You sounded very calm.’
    â€˜Did I? I think I was just in shock.’ Walker shook his head, breathed noisily for ten seconds, then said, ‘I can’t even remember calling.’
    â€˜What about afterwards?’ Thorne asked. ‘Do you remember running out into the street? Knocking on your next-door neighbour’s door and shouting about the blood?’
    More shaking of the head. ‘Sort of.’ Walker’s voice dropped to a whisper. ‘I can’t remember exactly what I said . . . shouted. I can remember my throat being sore afterwards and not knowing why. I was kneeling down with Emily by then, waiting for someone to come. It seemed to be taking ages, you know?’ The tears were coming now, but Walker did not seem bothered. He casually lowered his head and pushed them away with the heel of his hand when he needed to. ‘I really wanted to touch her,’ he said. ‘I knew I shouldn’t, because it would mess up the evidence or whatever. Seen too many of those TV shows, I think. But I just wanted to hold her hand for a few minutes. To reach inside that bag and tuck her hair behind her ear.’
    Holland looked hard at Thorne until he got the nod. ‘Do you want to take a few minutes, Mr Walker?’ He pushed back his chair, mumbled something about finding some tissues.
    â€˜Actually, I think we can leave it there,’ Thorne said.
    Walker nodded, the gratitude evident in his eyes before he closed them.
    As soon as Holland had stopped the tape, Thorne was out of his chair and moving towards the door. ‘Right, let’s see if we can get you a cab organised.’
    Walker rose slowly to his feet. ‘The hardest thing was telling Emily’s dad,’ he said. ‘After what happened to Emily’s mother, I mean.’ He turned to look at Thorne. ‘How bloody unlucky can one family