An hour into her workout, Foster headed over to the watching paparazzi. One of them turned as he approached. He was too tall and too thin. He had eager eyes with heavy bags and the smile of a man who had nothing to smile about.

‘I saw you at Maria Rosario’s house,’ the man said as Foster approached, his voice thin and tinny. ‘Should I know you?’

‘I saw you, too,’ Foster said. ‘It’s my job to keep you away from Kirsten.’

‘Not doing it very well,’ the guy observed with a wry smile.

‘I need every photo you took this morning.’

The eager eyes narrowed.

‘I don’t think so.’

‘Here’s the deal,’ Foster told him. ‘I need the pictures. There are three ways I can get them. You can give me a copy, and we both walk off smiling. Or I could talk to my friends at the Met, who will get a warrant and make your life difficult. Or I can ram that camera down your throat and then kick you around the court, until the memory card comes out of your arse. What do you reckon?’

Once Keller had finished her practice session, Foster drove her back to the Shard and ordered room service. Keller called her family to reassure them that everything was alright, even though she was fairly certain it wasn’t.

‘Don’t fly over,’ she told them. ‘Every time I see you in the crowd, I’ll remember that something’s wrong.’

Foster went through the reporter’s photographs, scanning the crowd for familiar faces, but none of them proved interesting. The sun sank gradually and Keller asked him if he wanted to stay the night.

‘I can’t,’ Foster told her.

She stood in the bedroom doorway and waited for a reason, but he didn’t elaborate.

‘You’ll be safe enough,’ he said.

‘It’s not about being safe.’

Foster looked at her.

‘What is it about?’

‘Last night,’ Kirsten said. ‘I had a good time. Didn’t you?’

‘Of course I did.’

She padded towards him, just as she had done the night before.

‘Do I have to spell it out, Chris? Seriously?’

She came close to him and put a hand on his chest.

‘We had a great time last night. And you’re a perfect gentleman. And every time something goes wrong, you’re there. I could get used to having you around – you know what I mean?’

He cupped her head in his hand, his fingers combing through the back of her blonde hair. He pulled her into his chest and kissed the top of her head gently, mostly so that he wouldn’t have to look into her eyes while he let her down.

‘The day I got these scars,’ he said, ‘I lost my wife.’

Keller looked up at him, eyes wide and swimming with a hundred different emotions.

‘I saved my client,’ Foster said. ‘But I should have saved her.’