As though he’s read her thoughts, he says, “Congratulations, by the way.”

“Right. Yeah, thanks.”

“Look, I . . .” He trails off and they stand in silence as her water bottle fills slowly to the brim.

She lets go of the dispensing button and turns to face him. She wants to head straight back to her desk, but it’s obvious he hasn’t finished yet.

“Thing is, Mina,” he says, and steadfastly fails to reveal the thing. “I just wanted to say . . . look, thanks. You know.”

She’s so shocked to hear the words coming from him it takes her a few seconds to work out what he’s talking about. But then it comes to her. He must have found out from someone that she was the one who sat with his split scalp cradled in her hands as he bled all over her best jeans. With one hand she’d pressed a T-shirt as hard as she dared against his head to staunch the blood loss, while with the other she called for help, chasing up the ambulance, the fire brigade, and every police officer South Yorkshire had to spare.

“No problem,” she says. She can’t really think of anything else to say.

“No, really, Mina. I mean it.” And she thinks that maybe he does. “You . . . you proper saved my life. I owe you one.”

Bloody hell, that knock must have been harder than the doctors thought! He’s probably still concussed.

“It’s good to have you back, Guy.” The words stick in her throat but she manages to get them out, and a half-smile to go with them.

“So . . . you’ve joined CCRU, then?” He says it the same way everyone does, “sea-crew,” as though she’s a deckhand on a trawler. She’s never sure if the nickname’s meant to be disparaging or not.

Oh God! He’s trying to make small talk. She preferred it when he was being a dick. She knew how to deal with that.

“It seemed like a good fit,” she tells him. And it had done, at the time. She glances back at the screen and the case notes waiting for her. “You didn’t happen to see DS Tyler on your way in, did you?”

Daley can’t help the involuntary scowl that crosses his face and it’s so familiar to her, Mina almost smiles.

“No,” he says, and then, like the shark that he is, he smells blood in the water. “Why? What’s he up to?”

“He went down to look at some evidence, I think.” The lie comes easily to her after months of practice. “Just a case we’ve been looking at. Listen, I’d better get back to it.”

“Oh, right, yeah, course.” But he makes no effort to let her go. “Listen, I was wondering . . . some of the lads said they want to take me out for a few drinks after work tonight and I thought—”