Jack didn’t want to talk about this now, but trapped in a car with Ridley he had no choice.

“I’m discussing it with Maggie as soon as we can get time off together. Our shift patterns are . . . well, you know how it is. And she’s still trying to impress her bosses so they keep her on after this rotation.”

Ridley twisted his ten-to-two fists on the wheel in frustration.

“Maggie’s career is important, I appreciate that, but so is yours! And I’m not sure what’s to discuss. There’s a sergeant’s post open, you’re a solid officer, you’ve got your qualifications, and you meet the Met’s criteria. Either you or DC Joshi is going to get the sergeant’s position. You’ve been at this far longer than him, but . . . Look, you plateaued in Devon, but you can’t get away with that here.”

Jack’s mobile vibrated silently in his hand and he sent his mum to voicemail. He could hardly pause a bollocking to take a call from his mum.

“I’m not saying ‘go for it,’” Ridley continued. “But I am saying ‘decide.’ Some people are DCs for the whole of their careers and that’s fine. But my DCs have ambition. Do you understand? Make a decision.”

For the remainder of the journey, they traveled in silence.

Jack’s first decision was to throw himself into the Rose Cottage case 100 percent and help Ridley bring an armed gang to justice after twenty-four years in the wind. Possibly with a murder conviction thrown in for good measure. He also decided to nurture the newly acquired excited feeling he had in the pit of his stomach. He’d allow it to guide him in the hope that, by the end of this case, he’d know whether to either leave the force with his head held high, or shatter Anik’s hope of promotion and beat him to the sergeant’s position.

Chapter 4

DI Martin Prescott and DCI Simon Ridley had met several years ago on the College of Policing’s Senior Investigating Officers course, and had bonded over polystyrene-tasting coffee and a mutual love of golf. They were chalk and cheese; Prescott was a man’s man who treated colleagues, male and female, like his mates until they proved him wrong—whereas Ridley was more formal in his approach, liking to keep a professional distance. However, when it came to police work, they were both sharp, methodical and rarely wrong. Although these men would never choose to spend their down time with each other, they shared great mutual respect. Ridley was very grateful to have been brought in on this case at such an early stage.

Prescott walked Ridley and his team round the outside of Rose Cottage and into the back garden, where dozens of uniformed Thames Valley Police officers were scattered about doing a fingertip search of the grounds to make sure they’d not missed anything. Prescott got everyone up to speed as they walked.

“All the information from ’95, and my recent conversation with Bill Thorn, suggests that this could be the Met’s open train robbery case. All of the evidence we’ve gathered so far is being organized for transfer. We’ll carry on at this end if you like, or do you want to bring your boys in to take over?”