‘The way I see it,’ he says, ‘is this. I don’t mind dabbling on the perimeters, looking at a few maps, applying my little grey cells from the comfort of my own sofa. But out there on the streets, that’s a different matter.’

‘OK, I get that,’ says Naylor, dipping into her crisps. ‘But I had a call from Claire Ferrers asking how we were getting on, and I felt so guilty. I didn’t have the guts to say we didn’t get a quick result – again – so we’ve moved on to something else, something where we might get to put a tick in the “solved” box. And it doesn’t feel right to me. Evan’s abduction was the most serious type of crime, and we’re letting it slide by. We might be coppers, Ron, but there has to be some leeway. Under current circumstances, we can’t play by every rule.’

‘I like rules,’ says Ron. ‘If more people lived by them, we wouldn’t be in this mess.’

‘But we are in this mess. We’re in a mess where Evan Ferrers has been abducted and abused and would without question have been murdered but for a massive stroke of luck, and nobody’s even been interviewed for it, let alone convicted. What kind of message does that send out? If we don’t get you in the early stages, you’re golden, you’ve got away? That’s not policing, Ron, that’s anarchy.’

Ron’s finished his crisps. He folds up the packet and sticks it between two slats of the table top.

‘If I thought anyone was doing what you’re suggesting on my watch, I’d have had them transferred out so fast their feet wouldn’t have touched the floor. And if Campbell finds out we’re having this conversation, he’ll go ballistic, and he’d have the right to do so. You’re undermining his authority. He’s told you to drop it, and he’ll take the public flak for that. It’s why he earns more than you do.’

‘He might take the flak, but he’s not taking the phone calls. He’s not the one Claire Ferrers’s ringing for updates that aren’t there.’

Ron looks her in the eyes.

‘OK, hit me,’ he says. ‘What were you thinking?’