Naylor settles in her chair next to Hagen, who’s unnecessarily rearranging papers in his file. Prentice settles back in his chair, extending his legs in front of him so his feet touch hers. It’s a power-grab on his part, taking up more space, but Naylor doesn’t care. She folds her feet under her chair and gives Prentice a warm-up smile.

‘Could you do the honours, Brad?’ she says.

Hagen presses the buttons on the recorder, and they wait for the red lights to be steady and the beeping to stop before he recites the preliminary words – who’s in the room, and the standard caution.

‘We have a few questions for you, Gary,’ he says. ‘But before we start on those, we want to let you know we’ve been over at your house having a good look round, and we brought away a few things for closer examination. Laptop, phone, stuff like that.’

Naylor and Hagen watch Prentice’s face, where the bored expression suddenly looks hard work and the spark of arrogance has gone.

‘You had no right to do that! That’s an infringement of my civil liberties!’

The solicitor shakes his head to let Prentice know he’s wrong.

‘Actually, it’s all above board. We’ve a warrant all nicely signed and official,’ says Hagen. ‘Your girlfriend was a bit upset, I’m afraid. It isn’t nice having people tramping all over your home, I realise that. But we believe the trouble was worthwhile.’

‘We have some guys upstairs who really know what they’re doing,’ says Naylor. ‘Everybody thinks when you press the delete button and empty the recycle bin, all that embarrassing stuff on your tablet or your laptop you never want anyone to see has vanished, like a magic trick. But those guys upstairs in forensics are really good at bringing files back from the dead. Stuff you’ve downloaded, especially. There are little bits of data that get right down into the innards of your computer – down into the sewers, you might say – and that’s where those guys go fishing. And they’re going fishing on your laptop, Gary. I wonder what they’ll find?’

Prentice is silent.

‘I’m curious too,’ says Hagen. ‘I’m wondering what’ll get snagged on their lines. Do you want to tell us what’s down there?’

‘No comment.’

Hagen smiles a wide smile.

‘This is no time for no comment, Gary. We’ve been talking to your ex, Lindsey Stockman. You remember Lindsey, of course. According to her, you lived together for a period of time at the address where she’s still living in Woking. That would be, we assume, while you were employed – as you told us in your original statement – at a school in Guildford. Woking to Guildford, that’s an easy enough commute.’

Prentice doesn’t speak.