Ed can clearly be seen getting off the bus and disappearing into an alleyway between a gastro-pub called The Brewhouse and a Sainsbury’s local.

After a few minutes, Ed re-appears, though this time disguised as the homeless man who later that night murdered Anna so viciously. He is now carrying a bigger bag, presumably filled with his murder implements. I close the file and shake my head at the sheer audacity of his actions.

As I slip my phone back into my pocket, DCI Bob eases himself into the seat beside me.

‘How’s the patient?’ he asks.

‘He’ll live,’ I respond, my tone making it clear that I’m still pissed off with him.

‘The results from the prints on Ed’s door frame came back. They are a match for the prints found on the page at the second murder. There’s no denying now that Ed is the killer.’

‘Good,’ I reply. Frosty.

He takes off his glasses and rubs each lens with his tie before replacing them on his nose.

‘Look, I know you’re not happy but I stand by what I did,’ he sighs, ‘I was doing the right thing for you and I’d do the same again. I’ve learned from my fuck-up last year.’

I realise that this is probably the closest I’m going to get to an apology and my resolve is broken. Maybe he was thinking of my wellbeing all along and I was simply too proud or paranoid to see it from his point of view. I give his shoulder a squeeze and he gives me a small smile.

‘Shall we go and see our man?’ he asks, before getting to his feet.

We walk side by side towards intensive care, the soles of DCI Bob’s shoes squeak on the recently buffed floor, where Ed is currently being treated for the gunshot wound to his leg.

Outside his room is a uniformed officer, making sure no-one comes or goes. We relieve him of his duty and he looks pleased to have a break. He makes his way down the corridor towards the cafeteria.

When we enter the room, a young doctor is completing some final checks and when the he is done, Ed offers his hand into which the doctor inserts a drip. Though he is following the doctor’s orders, he is staring, unblinking, at us.

His wig has been removed and the white walls make his skin appear paler than ever. The doctor makes sure Ed does not need any more pain relief before leaving the room.

‘Sorry about that,’ he sneers, motioning to the cut under my eye with his untethered hand. Ignoring him, I sit in the uncomfortable, plastic chair in the corner of the room, whilst DCI Bob leans against the window.

I read him his charges and, all the while, he looks thoroughly pleased with himself.

Anna Symons’ murder on Saturday the first of December.

He nods his head.

Jason Krist’s murder on Wednesday the fifth of December.

This one elicits a smile.