“Shut up, Daley.” Doggett’s voice makes her jump. He’s standing in the corner, tucked behind the door, mobile pressed to his ear. “How’d you get on?” Before they can answer he raises a finger, listens for a moment, and then shouts into the phone: “You can bloody well find him then!” He slams the mobile down on the desk, looks up at the room in general, and starts a new tack. “Next?”

“The gardener,” says DS Tyler.

“What gardener?”

“He was in the churchyard when I arrived yesterday.”

“And?”

“And I think he’s worth talking to.”

Doggett taps a pen against the desk. He’s always bloody tapping away at something. He turns to Guy Daley, who’s watching from behind a monitor. “Any chance you might do some work today, sunshine?” Then he heads for the door. “You better find this bloke’s address, then.”

“You’re coming on this one, then?” Tyler asks.

“If that’s all right with you, boss? You can tell me about the old dears on the way.” Doggett checks his watch. “Just let me squeeze one out, first. I’ll be in the Portaloo when you’ve found the address.” The door rebounds against the flimsy wall and closes behind him.

Tyler turns to Rabbani. “Joe Wentworth,” he says. “Can you find me the address?”

She feels the heat that flushes across her face, and she lowers her head quickly so that nobody sees. She has to stop this. One minute she’s ready to twat the man, and the next she’s lusting after him like he’s the first man with a pretty face she’s ever seen. She can barely talk to him. Why did he ask for her on his team? Assuming he did. That seemed to be what Doggett implied, and she’s pretty sure Doggett didn’t just change his mind about her.

Not that she owes Tyler anything. If anything he owes her. That’s probably the only reason he asked for her anyway. Out of a sense of obligation, because he were the one that got her in the shit in the first place. So that’s that. They’re even now. So why does she feel this constant need to impress him?

It wouldn’t be so bad if she thought he were even the slightest little bit interested. But of course he isn’t. On the other hand, at least he doesn’t check out her arse every time she walks past, unlike Dirty Daley. She’s not sure she’d mind all that much if he did. She feels her cheeks redden again and risks a glance up from her monitor at the DS. God, he’s pretty. Even now, glaring at Daley while that livid red scar tugs at the corner of his mouth and highlights his disdain for the man. She makes a mental note that when it blows up between the two of them, and she’s no doubt it will, she isn’t going to let herself get caught in the middle.

“What?” Daley says when he finally sees Tyler watching him.