Perhaps the outcome had been inevitable, but now a team mate’s sofa was preferable to spending nights in the same house, let alone the same bed, as his fiancée. And the real protruding spring in the mattress was the fact that Hawkins’ own absolute inability to commit had caused it all.

She was to blame.

Hawkins woke to the battering ram of her phone.

Ringing at full volume.

Disoriented, she rolled over, trying to pick out the red figures of her alarm clock. But her eyes wouldn’t focus.

Mike?

She yanked an arm free of the duvet and fumbled for the handset on her bedside cabinet, light from its screen forcing her to squint in the darkness. It wasn’t just the volume she’d neglected to adjust before succumbing to exhaustion.

She brought the phone to her ear, feeling no yank from its power cord, suggesting that she’d forgotten to plug the thing in. ‘Hawkins.’

‘Ma’am.’ It was Chris. ‘Did I wake you?’

‘Yes. What time is it?’

Something creaked on the line, and she pictured the young recruit leaning out of his chair to see the nearest clock. There was a small intake of breath. ‘I’m so sorry, ma’am. It’s almost one a.m.’

Hawkins suppressed a cough. ‘Tell me you aren’t still at work?’

‘I …’

‘Bloody hell.’ She rubbed an eye. ‘What good will you be in the morning if you haven’t slept?’

‘But … the others had gone, and you said you didn’t care if it took all night.’

‘I meant the sodding night shift – why didn’t you hand whatever you’re doing over to them?’

There was a brief silence. ‘Sorry, ma’am, I didn’t think.’

She felt a twist of guilt, reined herself in. ‘Thanks for staying. What do you have?’

Chris’s voice was quieter when he spoke again, but the news was better than expected.

‘The guy we arrested today. I know who he is.’

42

Hawkins slid into the surprisingly comfortable chair and balanced the large cardboard cup of coffee on her crossed knee. Early morning brightness streamed in through the windows that ran unbroken along two sides of New Scotland Yard, daylight doing little to drive away the fatigue tightening the tiny muscles around her eyes.

Two plain-clothed workers passed her, both with the swagger of the head-hunted, each carrying oversized tablets casually enough to suggest the whole unit probably had one. PC World probably closed early the day that order came in.