However, his reluctance to leave his home and stay in a hotel for even a night, due to the fact that it is mere speculation that he may be next on Rory’s list, is frustrating.

‘At least let me station an officer outside,’ I say.

Again, he shakes his head.

‘I don’t want to take up police resources. Look, if you are really this worried, I’ll check in with you in the morning. And, if I feel even a little threatened during the night, I will take you up on the offer of some supervision outside the house.’

I can see that he is not going to budge, so I reluctantly agree to his plan. I remind him to be vigilant, bid him farewell and drive home.

When I return to my house, I am pleased to find I’d left the heating on, as it goes some way to warming my frozen hands. I gather the information we have on Rory and throw myself onto the sofa.

I spend some time poring over the case notes, hoping one little detail will jump out and change the case, though, after such a long day, I can feel my eyes growing heavy.

Staying Alive blasts out from somewhere near my ear and I jerk awake, fully clothed on the sofa. I sit up straight, disorientated, and peer with barely open eyes at the time on the illuminated face of my digital watch. 3:07 am. I feel for the phone and squint at a number I don’t recognise before pulling it to my ear.

‘Hello,’ I slur, wiping dribble from the side of my mouth.

‘DI Piper, we’ve got him,’ says a man’s voice I can’t quite place.

I implore my brain to wake up and attempt to conjure a face to go with the voice but I’m left grappling in the dark.

‘DI Piper?’ the man repeats into the silence.

‘Sorry,’ I reply, wiping the sleep from my eyes, ‘you’ve got Rory?’

‘We’ve got Ben McCall.’

I’m momentarily disappointed that it’s not Rory who has been apprehended, but I suppose I did only call it in a few hours previously. Ben is still a coup.

I push the case notes on to the floor and push myself upright, telling the man on the other end of the phone that I’m on my way to meet them at the station.

‘I’d hold fire,’ he answers, ‘the lad is absolutely smashed, can barely string a sentence together. He’ll be right as rain after a few hours in a cell. Get a bit more sleep and he’ll be waiting for you in the morning.’

‘Thank you. Good job,’ I say and hang up, remembering his name is Craig just a second too late.

I turn off the lights in the living room and make my way into the bedroom, pulling on a pair of pyjamas and jumping into bed.

I turn the pillow onto the cold side and plant my head into it. The bed feels enormous without Tom, who had accompanied me to Ed’s house but left for his own home afterwards, on account of his early start.