They worked together to liberate the trapped animal. Once he was free, Hawkins fussed over her pet for a moment before straightening, her eyes meeting Mike’s. Instinctively, she reached out and took his hand. Mike responded, stepping forwards and enveloping her. She let her head drop on to his chest, and they stayed like that for a long moment, just listening to each other breathe, the soft electricity of things they both needed to say passing between them.

At last they separated, ignoring Kirk’s beseeching meows. For a second Mike looked as if he was about to say something important, but then he gave a penitent smile and returned to the hob. ‘So anyway, I called the planner to apologize about today. Said we’d ring back tomorrow, fix up a new date.’

‘Oh.’ Hawkins crouched to deposit food in Kirk’s bowl, trying to sound positive. ‘Great.’

‘Saturday work for you?’

‘Er.’ She stalled. ‘Can I let you know tomorrow? I need to get a handle on this case.’

Wrong answer.

Mike turned, doing his Robert De Niro slow nod. ‘In case you decide you still wanna get married, right?’

‘What’s that supposed to mean?’ She tried to keep her voice calm.

He shrugged. ‘Just saying, you couldn’t get outta here fast enough this morning. Coming second to a bunch of corpses don’t exactly make a guy feel wanted.’

‘Hey.’ Hawkins straightened, depositing the cat food packet in the bin. ‘If you were still on the team, you’d have been right there with me, so don’t make this about us.’

He laughed. ‘Don’t worry, I get it. Nothing’s about us any more.’

‘Don’t be a child.’

‘You want childish?’ Maguire dumped the spoon in the pan, slopping bolognese on to the hob. ‘This is ready. Serve your damn self.’ He strode past her, into the front room.

‘Mike.’ She called after him. ‘Let’s not do this.’

‘Do what?’

‘Where are you going?’

‘Out.’

8

Someone behind him cleared their throat.

He hesitated, so nearly at the door, one hand ready to lift his coat from its hook.

There was a light touch on his arm. ‘Are you going?’

He turned, conscious that leaving a negative impression would be a mistake; the kind of thing that might be remembered. Discussed.

A smile came to his lips. ‘Unfortunately, I have to leave. Early start.’

‘That’s a shame.’ His accoster was the host, a plain woman in her fifties whom he’d spent a few minutes gently interrogating soon after he arrived. She didn’t meet his criteria, of course, but she was in a good position to know if any of her visitors did.