‘Oh, of course. That was always going to be an option. And no, I don’t like it any more than you do. But in some ways it doesn’t matter because you know what drives him. He’d never accept something like that. No, my bet is we’ll never find out who else he was running, if there was anyone else. He’ll rot in a cell for the rest of his days.’
‘I’ve heard that before.’ Purkiss looked away.
‘You must have been tempted.’
In his mind’s eye Purkiss saw Rossiter cowering, injured chest forgotten as his hands came up to protect his face, the shots chipping and splintering the boat around him. When the shooting stopped he lowered his hands and looked at Purkiss. In his eyes was defeat, and acceptance.
Purkiss straightened, walked along the railing away from Vale. He saw movement below, and stopped.
From behind him Vale said: ‘So this is where you throw your badge and gun into the river.’
Down in the thicket of mud-smeared reeds something flopped wetly. A rodent of some sort.
‘What’s it to be?’ Vale said.
Purkiss turned to look at him. ‘What do you think?’