She took the Tube back out to Hammersmith, where she’d left the car. She’d done it, she’d got her job back, they could move back to London and, all being well, meaning if the bank would advance her some money and RPG agreed, Lennie could go back for the summer term.

She should have been euphoric but as she swung round the roundabout and took the slip road up to the main drag out of town, she felt strangely flat. Tired, she thought, just tired. She needed some kind of break. A holiday – imagine. Maybe she and Lennie could take one now if she got a loan. Yes, it was a good idea. It would be good for both of them, some time away together on their own, after what Len had experienced.

What she’d had to experience – what Corinna had made her experience. The anger flared. Corinna had brought that violence into their lives, she’d brought Lennie face to face with a killer. But – in the weeks that had passed, she’d made herself own it, really own it – so had she.

BIRMINGHAM said the sign on the overhead gantry. She glanced across at the passenger seat – empty today, of course, with Lennie at school. She thought of that drive, her churning stomach. That bloody Burger King. Three things had kept her going that day: Lennie, the job with Maggie, and the thought of Corinna, her friend, waiting for her like a beacon in her orange fern-patterned coat. The human night-light. Today she was driving back to only one of those things and yet, she realized, her stomach wasn’t churning. She’d have dinner with her parents tonight and she’d sleep in the bunk beds, her thirteen-year-old daughter overhead, and that would be all right. Except for the temperature. She’d still be sleeping with the windows open. Maybe she’d buy a fan.

As she joined the M40, her phone rang through the Bluetooth. Samir’s name on the screen.

‘Hi,’ he said. ‘Have you got a minute?’

‘Yeah, of course. I’m driving but I’m hands-free, so …’

‘It’s okay, I’ll be quick. I just wanted to say, we’re about to advertise a DCI vacancy here. In Homicide.’ He paused. ‘I wanted you to know.’

Acknowledgements

From the start, this book has benefited from the talents of two excellent women, my agent, Victoria Hobbs, and editor, Helen Garnons-Williams. Your enthusiasm and guidance have been invaluable. Thank you both.

At A.M. Heath, my thanks go to Alexandra McNicoll and Jo Thompson. At 4th Estate, a big thank you to Matt Clacher, Patrick Hargadon and Fran Fabriczki (with special mention for your patience). Thank you to Jack Flag for the great cover design and to Amber Burlinson for your copy-editing skill.