It’s dark when I get home and I can’t lie – I feel nervous heading back to my flat, even though the police have promised extra patrols in the area. The lights in the corridor are, thankfully, working again and when I reach my door, it is closed and locked. I let myself in to where I’d left a lamp on in the hall so that I wouldn’t be returning to darkness. Everything is calm and as I left it.

I flick the switch on at the kettle and drop two slices of bread into the toaster. It’s a lazy dinner, but it’s all I have the energy for. I make a cup of tea and sitting down at the table, I rifle through my post, checking for anything of importance. I’m examining my latest credit card statement (very depressing, as it happens), when my phone vibrates with a notification.

It’s a friend request on Facebook. I click to open it and am greeted by a semi-familiar face. He’s older now, of course. The years have been kind to him – he is very handsome, as it happens. There’s a cheeky glint in his eye, one I remember from twenty years ago. One that is most certainly no longer there in his brother’s eyes – Niall Heaney, Declan’s twin.

I’m intrigued enough to accept the request immediately and start to stalk my way through his Facebook page, looking at all the pictures of him smiling, shirt and tie, clean-shaven face. His shirtsleeves rolled up, exposing toned and tanned forearms. Him on what looks like a sunny holiday. Him standing in front of a group of gap-toothed children, all of them giving the thumbs up to the camera. The caption reads: ‘Great work in our accelerated reading programme this year from Primary 5. This is my favourite part of teaching.’

The flurry of likes and comments from his, mostly female, followers leaves me in no doubt that Niall Heaney is popular with the fairer sex. I’m reading the responses, some of the blatant flirting, when my phone pings with a Facebook Messenger notification.

Hey stranger, thanks for accepting my request! Hope all is good with you. You certainly look good;)

I cringe a little at the compliment. I know he most likely says this to all the women in his life – or at least all the women of a certain age who he thinks he might stand a chance with. I’m familiar with his type.

I was in Derry at the weekend, catching up with the family. Declan was saying you’re researching Kelly’s murder, for the anniversary. He said you might want to chat with me.

I smile. I do indeed want to talk to him.

I don’t suppose you have any more plans to be back down in Derry? I type. These kinds of interviews tend to go better face to face.