Of course, DCI Bob has to answer to the commissioner, so I understand why he is getting his knickers in a twist. I assure him that the press will be bored by tomorrow and will have moved on. He barks a goodbye and hangs up.

I set the cutlery down with a clatter, push the empty plate away from me and take a sip from my wine glass, before grabbing my computer from the sideboard and setting it on the kitchen table in front of me.

The promised CCTV footage arrived in my inbox about an hour ago and has been downloading ever since; such is the vastness of the file size. It had pinged about five minutes ago to signify the task had been completed and was ready for viewing. I open the downloaded folder and look at the two files included, before double clicking on ‘Interior 1’.

A separate window opens and shows silent black and white footage of the inside of the pub I had visited earlier in the day. I often wonder how they can collect coloured, high definition images of the surface of Mars, but haven’t managed to transfer that picture quality to CCTV cameras here on Earth; I know where they would be more useful.

The video is nearly two hours long, the time at the bottom corner of the screen showing 9:06 p.m. when I press play. As Ciaran told us earlier, the pub is quite empty for a Friday night, a few casually dressed drinkers loiter by the bar, drinks in hand, whilst a group of friends mill around the pool table. A man laughs heartily as his opponent scuffs his shot, sending the white ball soaring into the air and dashing across the floor.

A few minutes later, Jay; alive and well, enters the pub and props himself on a stool, which looks like it is struggling under his weight, at the bar.

The video shows the night playing out exactly as Ciaran said it had. Jay says something to the barman, who pours a pint and leaves it to settle, before presenting it to the American a few minutes later. Ciaran appears to attempt to engage Jay in conversation but judging from his body language, he doesn’t reciprocate. Ciaran looks a tad nervous and wanders off, leaving Jay alone.

For a long time, Jay sits there, draining drink after drink before seemingly becoming more sociable and engaging in conversation with Ciaran. The bar has filled steadily and Ciaran is leaning in close to Jay, presumably to hear him over the din of the punters. The barman then ends the chat and goes to serve waiting clientele. Then our man of interest appears.

Dressed in the same outfit as when he was captured on CCTV on the night Anna died, he sidles straight up to the American and begins to talk. Jay looks at him for a few seconds, a flicker of recognition flashing across his face, and quickly becomes agitated.