“I have a false passport. There are people in this town who’d love to know what I’m up to.”

“Always the old fox.”

“It’s what’s kept me ahead of the game all these years.”

“So what happens now?” Mary Killane had asked after Bell had gone.

Dermot had kissed her boldly, which thrilled her to her toes. She’d known there was something between them, she’d felt it.

“We could start with that,” he said, “or we could go around the corner and have a drink and a bit to eat first. What’s your pleasure, lass?”

They ended up having the drink first, and then Dermot had bedded her, and the whole thing felt like the most special time in her life.

Now, pushing the trolley up the corridor to Hannah’s room, the moment of truth had arrived. She felt surprisingly calm, remembering what had been done to her father and to so many others, and that this woman, this Police Superintendent, had been responsible for so much of it. She opened the door and pushed the trolley in.

She’d checked up on Dazone. It took half an hour to kick in, which was why she’d left it to the end of her shift. The curtains were drawn, the small bed light the only illumination. Hannah Bernstein looked pale, almost skeletal, eyes closed. Mary Killane had the pills ready in a small plastic cup, a little water in another one.

Hannah’s eyes flickered open. She said drowsily, “What is it?”

“Your medication,” the woman said. Surprising how easy it was. “There you go. I’ll help you drink.” And then it was over. “You’ll sleep now.”

“Thank you,” came the murmur, and Mary Killane pushed the trolley out.

In the staff room, she didn’t change out of her uniform, simply pulled on a raincoat, got her handbag from her locker and went out. As she reached the entrance foyer, Maggie Duncan emerged from her office.