She swings her head round and fixes him with a dead-eyed stare. “Do try not to be so melodramatic, Adam. I’m saying I can’t afford any cock-ups on this. I need you to make sure the i’s are dotted. That’s all.”

“Diane . . .” He’s going to tell her, he is, but then the defense team is emerging from the court in a tsunami of flash photography and shouted questions. Doggett slips around them unseen, and Jordan stands to greet him.

“Ma’am.”

“Just checking on progress, Jim.”

Doggett’s eyes swing between the two of them. “Progress? Yeah, well, that bastard’s overrated in my opinion.”

Jordan shakes her head. “No cock-ups,” she says again, this time to both of them. Then she walks away without another word.

“Right, son, shake a leg.” The DI heads straight to the parking lot. On the surface he seems undisturbed to find his sergeant in conversation with his superior. But as they reach the car he makes it clear it’s been noted. “I’ve never known the DCI to take this much interest in a sergeant before.”

Tyler opens the driver’s door. Their eyes meet across the roof of the car. “Perhaps I’m just lucky.”

Doggett waits until they’re both in the car before he drops his bombshell. “Nothing to do with her being your godmother, then?”

Tyler ignores him. It’s not meant to be a secret, but few people know. He’s not going to give Doggett the satisfaction of showing surprise, though. He starts the car without another word but, as he reaches for the gearshift, Doggett’s hand leaps out and catches hold of the steering wheel. “I’m not against a bit of friendly nepotism now and again. It’s the way of the world, I know that.” He pauses for effect. “But if I catch you trying to go round me, I’ll crucify you. Is that understood?” He lets go of the wheel without waiting for an answer and turns to look out the window. Tyler slides the car into reverse, and Doggett begins tapping out a tune on the dashboard.

—