Maggie had just come off a night shift on the orthopedic ward at the New Victoria Hospital. She was three weeks into her new rotation and, despite always coming home exhausted, she still got Jack ready for work before she went to bed. By the time he got home that night, she’d be gone again, so this hug had to last him at least twenty-four hours. Jack nuzzled Maggie’s neck. He normally hated the way she smelt when she came home from work—the horrible combination of alcohol hand sanitizer, that chemical smell that hangs in the air in hospitals, mothballs and, occasionally, vomit—but this morning he was running late, so she’d already had time to shower and, therefore, smelt of tangerines.

Fourteen months previously, Maggie and Jack had agreed that moving from Devon to London was the right thing to do for her career. His career, in his words, wasn’t as big a deal as hers. Maggie knew she wanted to be an orthopedic surgeon, whereas all Jack really knew for sure was that he wanted to be able to go and watch Plymouth Argyle Football Club whenever they played at home. He wasn’t lazy, but he was restless. Or, as he put it, at a crossroads.

At 36, Jack should, by now, have been a detective inspector at least, rather than a lowly DC. When Maggie had asked him if they could move to London for her career, he’d said, “Sure. Gang wrangling will be a bit like sheep wrangling, I expect. Only with knives.”

Maggie had asked Jack what it was he truly wanted, and all he could come up with was “you,” which, although lovely, wasn’t very helpful. Then he’d answered more seriously.

“I want that look I see in your eyes when you put that stethoscope round your neck. You’re proud of what you do, Mags. You’re excited. I want to feel excited.”

London was, in fact, a huge risk, both emotionally and financially, but Jack’s commitment to Maggie made it the right decision. They knew no one in the South-east and, although Maggie could make a lifelong friend in a supermarket line, Jack was more standoffish. He didn’t care about friends—he had Maggie—but the money was a worry. They went from having both time and cash to spend at the end of the month, to being skint ships that passed in the night. And they had to plan two months in advance for any extra expenditure—such as the car’s inspection fee. Maggie dealt with all of this, though. She was the organizer, and she was the one who never panicked when the account turned from black to red.

Jack had agreed to make the life-changing move because he’d always known that Maggie was destined for greater things, and he didn’t want his indecisiveness to hold her back. As it happened, Jack’s current boss, DCI Simon Ridley, had heard about his transfer on the grapevine and had done a little digging. Jack’s reputation in Devon was as a solid foot soldier with an exceptional eye for detail and a natural ability to talk to people, read them and work out the best way to get what he needed from them. His interview technique was greatly admired, although it had never been pushed to its limits in Totnes. Ridley had decided to give Jack the opportunity to find his path with the Serious Crime Squad, but very quickly worked out that Jack’s not being stretched in his previous role was less to do with the location and more to do with his lack of ambition. However, he was diligent and got on with his work, so Ridley had kept him on . . . for now.