“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—”

But whatever he’s thinking is cut off as someone shouts, “Oi-oi, saveloy! Daley Thompson’s back!” and three of Daley’s colleagues begin slapping him on the back and shaking his hand and Mina uses the distraction to slip back to her desk.

She sits down and takes a long, hard swig from her water bottle, trying not to think about whatever it was Daley had been about to suggest. She’s just grateful she didn’t have to say no to whatever it was.

•   •   •