I phone Ed again. He answers quickly and tells me that he has had an uninterrupted night’s sleep and that there is no sign of anything happening out of his front window. I tell him I will be in touch later to make sure he is still OK, and he laughs, which makes me feel like his over-caring mother.

I set the phone down, feeling slightly annoyed that Ed isn’t taking his own care more seriously, and as I get up to return to the observation booth, I see Ben and the lawyer walking towards the door, apparently done with the interview.

Ben casts a glance my way and gives a slight nod of his head coupled with a thin, closed-mouthed smile. Maybe it’s an apology for running away or maybe it’s a covert celebration from a man who is currently getting away with murder.

Ben and his lawyer walk side-by-side into the lift and the door closes, obscuring them from view. I run to the stairs, taking two at a time, and arrive on the ground floor as the lift doors re-open and the two men walk out.

I hide behind a wall as they sign out at the reception desk, before leaving the building together. I creep to the window and watch a relieved-looking Ben shake hands with his lawyer.

Gareth opens the door to a sleek Mercedes estate, throws his briefcase onto the passenger seat and takes his place in front of the steering wheel. He says something to Ben who shakes his head and points up the street, before closing the door and speeding out of the car park.

Ben, now alone, leans against a lamppost and fishes a packet of cigarettes from his jacket pocket. As he closes the lid of his lighter and puffs out a plume of smoke, I make my way out onto the street and approach him.

‘What do you want?’ he asks, the confidence he displayed on the night I first encountered him back on show.

‘Five minutes of your time.’

‘I’ve already told your boss everything I know,’ he replies.

‘I’ll buy you a pint,’ I say, pointing at the pub across the road.

Ben gulps down almost a third of his pint and when he sets it down on the table, froth has settled into his patchy beard. He wipes it away with the back of his hand and fixes his intense eyes on mine.

‘What do you want to know then?’ he asks, his chest puffed out.

‘What happened in the alleyway?’

For the first time, I see a little of his coolness ebb away, allowing fear to creep in. His walls come down and he tells me every detail of what happened, and I believe every word he says.

He tells me that he went into the alley on a whim, to try and build up the courage to approach Jay. He acknowledges that it was a long time to be in the alley, that he was looking at his phone and simply lost track of time, but when he heard another person enter the alley, he was frightened, so he hid behind one of the cars.