The bartender, once Alice finally found him, was not too bad. Taking him away from the commotion of the school event, Alice sat him down on a park bench. She began the interview with the rigid, Hardy-enforced "speaking to Jack Daniels, initial interview, Friday February sixth, one twenty pm." She sighed, tempted to add a "happy, Hardy?" "So, Mr. Daniels, where were you last night?" She asked.

"I was out buying drinks."

"For the bar?"

"Yes. We had run out of a few ale brands."

"I see. Is there any way we may verify that?"

"I have receipts."

"I see. May I see them please?"

"We'll have to go to the bar."

"Would you mind?"

"No, it's quite alright."

"We'll have to take my car." Alice added a curt "end interview, one twenty five." She guided Jack to her car. Within, driving the short distance down the nearly empty high street, Alice looked on the suspect. He was young and it was surprising that he managed to own the bar. He looked quite handsome to Alice who glanced over his features appreciatively before reminding herself of her wedding. To Hardy.

They arrived and Daniels produced the bills quite quickly – they were recent and neatly filed. Alice took photos of the bills to store as proof. Alec would probably force her to call the stupid store that sold the ale.

She sighed and dropped Jack off, thanking him for his cooperation and thanking the Lord for the rare textbook quality operation.

She got back to work where she met Jamie, 'slacking off' as Hardy would later complain. She knocked on Hardy's office, hoping her husband would not find some pedantic fault with her perfect little chat with the bartender.

"Alec!" She said with enthusiasm so false and thick that it could be felt.

"What's up?" He said, sounding completely disinterested.

"The bartender's clean."

"How so?"

"He has an alibi – he was out shopping."

"Was the store even open?" The tone as too patronizing for Alice to hide her umbrage.

"I will call them."

"Then he's nearly clean."

"Fine." She turned to leave. "He will be soon though."

"Don't be too sure."

"Don't be too doubtful." Alice disliked this about him.

"They found the knife."

"What?" Did Jamie even know? Was he condescending enough with the case to consider her unimportant enough to be informed? Was it some possessive instinct?

"It was in the house."

"So one of them did it?"

"Most likely. We'll have to talk to them."

"When?"

"I'll call tomorrow, after the press release."

"You writing that?"

"Yes."

"What should I do?"

"Call the shop."

"Fine." Alice went to do as she was told. She rang the number.

"Hello?" She heard.

"Hi, I was wondering if I could ask you about one of your customers."

"We are not at liberty to divulge the details of our clientele, I am afraid."

"This is the police."

"Will you be able to come over? You may get more concrete evidence this way."

"I'll be there soon."

"See you." The line died. Alice sighed. She now would have to drive to this liquor store – a twenty minute drive – and get the evidence. It did make sense from the store's perspective, but it inconvenienced Alice greatly. Hardy would have to write the release. Jamie had to talk to the Mason guy. Alice was on her own.

She drove accompanied by the radio, wishing a human being would appear in the seat next to hers. She arrived soon after, taking in the small white walled and red roofed box the store formed, penetrating into the countryside, an interloper of civilization.

She entered. "I'm the officer who called." She began to the old, thin lady at the counter.

"Some ID, please."

Alice flashed her badge, aggravated by the lady's insecurities. "Now, the customer."

"Fine. Who is it you would like me to inform you about?"

"Jack Daniels."

"Yes." The lady pulled out a receipt. "Is this all you would like to see?"

Alice flashed a photo. "Thank you very much."

"It's alright. I am sorry for any inconvenience." That annoyed Alice – of all things an annoying person could do, apology was the most annoying.

"It's quite alright." Alice texted an "I was right" to Alec before she began her drive back.

A "good" came through as she pulled out onto the highway.

Jamie interviewed Jim Mason. They used a cold interrogation room for the first time in many years. Jamie recorded the conversation formally beginning with a "speaking to Jim Mason, initial conversation, Friday February the sixth at quarter to two." He sighed, wondering why he had to observe this formality. "So, Mr. Mason, where were you the night before?"

Mr. Mason thought for a while – a while longer than an innocent man should take. "I was out on a call."

"Near midnight?"

"Yes. There was an emergency and they thought I could help."

"They?"

"It was late. I don't remember who."

"I see. Do you have a record of the call or any transaction?"

"Yes." Jim pulled out his phone and flipped through the call history. An unidentified number came up. He showed it to Jamie.

"I see." Jamie noted the time and duration of the call. "What did they need fixing?"

"It had to do with their…" Mason stopped to think. "It was that one of their radiators was leaking."

"Unfortunately, Mr. Mason, we do not have any evidence of you using your van."

"Yes." Mason paused again. "I walked to the place – it was nearby but I can't remember exactly where."

"Nearby?"

"Yes, it was one of the businesses."

"I see."

"Sorry, but what's all this regarding?"

"We have a suspicion, but I am not at liberty to tell." Jim looked a little shaken, almost guilty.

"Sorry about the lack of detail." It hurt to hear that. It was sad because there were no guarantees – Jim could be lying prolifically or he could be telling the truth and be suffering from a terrible memory. Jamie would never quite know.

"It's quite alright, tell us if you remember anything."

"Yes."

"Thank you." With that, Jamie let Jim out and gave a sordid report to Hardy.

Hardy had prepared the press release and Alice came in time to set up the hall. They used the police department's hall for the first time.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen." Hardy began to the small audience of jaded reporters and local police fanatics that milled about. "Today, we have the misfortune of announcing the murder of Annie and Jane Mortimer. They were murdered in a break in. There is no evidence of anything being stolen from the house thus we are under the assumption that we are faced with a planned event." As told to by Alec, Alice and Jamie scanned the room for particularly guilty faces. "We are collecting evidence and interviewing suspects as much as we can. We hope we will find the criminal soon and we hope that you, the media, will respect the privacy of the Mortimer's and not reduce the efficacy of any part of the investigation. We will keep you as up to date as possible." There was a paused as the reporters glared at Hardy for his obvious stance. "Finally, I would like anybody who thinks they know something to come forward with any information they can give."

Hardy crisply descended. He sighed, knowing that the day would be over soon if he wanted a ride home with Alice. There was nothing too pressing with the case – he promised himself not to bother the Mortimer family the day of their children's deaths.

Hardy did decide, however, to check on one detail: which of the parents was a more likely suspect. He checked the footage. Mrs. Mortimer was the only person to leave the house during the night and she did take her time. This pointed to her – she must have stepped out to place the red herring of the break in.

Hardy sighed, knowing that he would have to take Alice along with him for this interview – it was too delicate otherwise. Alice would be unhappy. He walked out of the office, where he met Jamie. "Cripps." He called.

"DI?"

"Can you work tomorrow?"

"I would prefer not to."

"We are just taking an hour or so to interview Cate Mortimer, so I was wondering if you could talk to Frank Simpson.

"Fine Hardy." Jamie really preferred the other Hardy – more than merely professionally.

"Good. Report back to me and then you can call it a day."

"Alright. You and Alice are going to interview Cate?"

"Yes. It will be quite delicate."

"Please tell me how that goes."

"I will be sure to."

The Hardy couple returned home. Jenna was picked up from a friend's house on the way. The parents would have to reveal Annie's death to her and were wondering nervously how she would react. They decided to let her speak first – narrate her day and talk about the event. Maybe she would ask them. That would be the best course.

They reached their house – a small semi-detached edifice with two rooms on the small upper floor, a small dining and living area combined on the right of the entrance and the stairs and kitchen to the left. It was quite cramped but they saved on the loan and hoped to own this property in addition to another investment.

"How was your day, Jenna?" Alice asked as they pulled onto the property.

"Fine."

"What did you do?"

"We had the sports day! You came, mum!"

"I know. How was it?"

"It was fun! We ran and Ms. Werner helped us win."

"Great!"

"Mum? Why was Annie missing? Nobody knew."

"Jenna, darling, Annie was killed." Alec said.

"Killed!" Jenna asked, all joy diminished. Alice glared at Alec.

"Yes. Daddy and mummy are going to find out who did it."

"Who would kill Annie?"

"We want to know that too."

"Will you find them?"

"We sure will, love."

"You guys will do it!"

"Love, do you know anything about who it could be?"

Jenna nodded a flat 'no.'

"Tell us if you think you know, ok?" Alec gave Jenna a reassuring pat on her head. Alice still glared.

They pulled in and did the daily evening routine – Jenna's homework, cooking and any remaining chores.

After a normal evening – an evening suspiciously normal for Alec – he had to ask, stirring the delicate balance as if he were addicted to the chaos: "what's wrong, Alice?"

"You."

"What?"

"I'm sick of the way to take control."

"What do you mean?"

"The way you force me to do things you know I would do. The way you took control of the conversation with me and Jenna. The way you take control at work. The way you control everything."

"I don't."

"Yes you do! Everything in my life is a struggle not to piss you off!"

"Alice, I-"

"No! You do not! You just get pissed off about some little shit and leave me wondering whether I did anything wrong."

"I've always been this way."

"Have you?"

"Yes."

"Really? Did you get pissed when I fucked up while we were dating?" She sighed. "Alec, you're becoming unforgiving and it's unforgivable."

"I'll make it up to you."

"You had better."

"Tell me how."

"Let me do what I want."

"Fine. I'll try. Tell me if I mess up."

"You never tell me."

"I do."

"You get pissed!"

"It's my way of telling."

"What if that's my way?"

"Then get pissed."

"Fine! This not pissed off enough for now?"

"I get your point right now. I'll change, I promise." Alec did not understand how he would change. He felt that he did not change in any way. Maybe she had – maybe she went from supportive to ambitious and was unable to realize. It did not matter, for her sake, he would change; he would take on the supportive role if he had to.

They went to sleep silently, neither arguing nor affectionately conversing, merely going to sleep.

The next morning marked solemnly, a terrible day. The wind did not blow and the birds did not chirp in the dead winter's chill that gripped the land. At ten in the morning, when they scheduled to speak with the Mortimer in question, the streets were dead. It felt as if the murdered became prolific, suddenly serially killing the entire town. This was the morning nature stopped to watch, the morning where God looked curiously, unable to judge yet who was the culprit and who was not damned. This was the morning Alec Hardy had to accuse the mother of killing her daughters.

They entered the hotel room. It was in a slight disarray as both occupants were too sad to care about the state of anything. Even their bodies were uncared for – both were unkempt, hungry and exhausted. Both did not care and spent the time in silence. Fortunately, Alec noted, there was no evidence of alcohol – once they slipped a foot down that slope, they would slide quickly to the bottom. Alec silently asked for Cate to come along to the office – there was no way anything but another murder would occur if Kyle were in earshot.

"Initial interview of Cate Mortimer. Saturday February seventh, ten thirty am." Hardy brought up the picture of the knife. "Mrs. Mortimer, do you recognize this?"

There was an explosion. Cate literally fell off her chair. She wailed. The two guards on hand stepped forward in case of their unfortunate need. "IT WAS NOT ME!"

"Mrs. Mortimer, would you please tell us where you were last Thursday night?"

"I was at home sleeping."

"And then?"

"I woke up on Friday."

"Mrs. Mortimer, we know you are lying. We have you leaving your residence before midnight. Why?"

"I-" Cate could not think. "I did not kill my Annie and Jane." She wailed once more. "How dare you think such a thing?"

"Our current evidence points to it."

"Bugger your evidence, I swear, I did not kill them. I could not. You saw me the morning of, I could not speak!"

"That does not explain anything, but your whereabouts on that night will, especially if we can prove it."

"Can I have a phone call?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"I can't tell you, I swear."

"Why not?" Cate realized that she had had to give then something verifiable.

"I can't remember any of it."

"Any?"

"Yes. I was out with some friends and I got really drunk."

"You mean you were hung-over on Friday?"

"Yes, I was. The murder cured me of it, I could not even function, still barely can."

"I see. Can you remember any of these friends?"

"No."

"Can you provide me with a list?"

"No, I can't remember and I doubt they can."

"I see." Hardy sighed. "Seeing as you cannot give us any details, we will detain you until we know that you are not guilty."

"Don't you dare!" Cate approached a rage. "Don't you dare! Don't you dare!" The guards held her as the Hardy couple left.

Jamie entered the empty newsagents. He was given the usual cheery welcome until he directly approached the counter and his purpose stuck in Simpson's mind. "Am I a suspect?" Frank frankly phrased.

"Unfortunately, until you can tell us, on record, where you were on Thursday night."

"On record?"

"Yeah, let me start it."

"Alright."

Jamie did as required, recording the half past ten time. "Now, where were you on Thursday night?" Jamie asked.

"I was out, on my boat."

"I see, can we verify that?"

"Ask the harbour security guard – it's the Newcastle main private marina."

"Alright." Hardy was going to have him drive down. He grumbled internally at that thought as his phone rang. "Interview paused due to call." He paused the recorder.

"Yes, sir." He picked up.

"Can you ask if Frank saw Cate?"

"Sure."

"Great. Tell us quickly."

"Give me a minute."

"Get it on tape."

"Wilco." He hung up. "Resume." He sighed. "One more question, I'm afraid."

"Go on, I'm innocent anyway."

"Did you see Cate Mortimer on Thursday night?"

Simpson pondered for a few minutes. "I believe I did. I think I saw her entering the hotel."

"That's great, thank you."

"You're welcome."

"End interview." Jamie bought an obligatory bottle of water and left the store. Before setting off he texted Alec all the data.

"I'll get the hotel, go to Newcastle on Monday." Was the rewarding reply he received.

Alec immediately set off. In his furious pace, he reached the hotel in two minutes. He caught his breath at the reception where he also demanded the tapes from Thursday night. Seeing as there were none (the tapes were overwritten daily due to a budget shortage), he asked the manager whether a Cate Mortimer had gotten a room.

On record, the manager informed Alec that: "Yes, Cate Mortimer came to the hotel. She sought after Jim Mason who had booked a room for the night. They exited after a few hours and that was that."

"Did that not bother you?"

"It is not my place to pry into my customer's affairs, merely to offer them a room in exchange for their payment."

Hardy returned, wondering how to accuse the unfortunate wife of infidelity. Their relationship – the Mortimer couple – would end. Dead did them apart by killing their offspring.