‘I can, but the photograph isn’t real. Amy Jones has never been to my house. I have never met her outside the consulting room.’

‘But you can confirm that the people photographed here are you and Amy Jones?’

Bloom nodded. It was so realistic. She could see herself mid-stride in black trousers and her winter coat, and then just a couple of steps behind her was the unmistakable image of Amy in jeans, pink trainers and her grey duffle coat. Bloom recognized Amy’s coat and trainers. She had worn them to their sessions, taking the coat off as she arrived, putting it back on when she left.

‘How do you explain this then?’ said Keith.

Bloom looked him in the eye. ‘I suggest you ask a photography expert to look at this forensically. Someone has faked this to frame me.’

‘And that is your defence.’ It wasn’t a question. Keith sighed as though he’d heard the same tired excuse a million times before. He turned his tablet away and folded up his papers. The meeting was done.

After the meeting, Bloom went to meet Professor Mark Layton at a nearby cafe. He was sitting at a table by the window when she arrived. He’d been her psychology professor at Sheffield University and then her mentor as she worked through her professional qualifications. He was an expert in criminal profiling and one of the first psychologists to provide assistance to the police. Layton had championed Bloom even as a student whose ambition lacked real direction.

‘How are you doing?’ he said to Bloom.

‘My main reaction is one of disbelief. Have you decided?’

Professor Layton nodded, and Bloom waved at the waiter.

‘I’ll have whatever he’s having with a glass of tap water, please.’ She closed the menu and handed it to the waiter.

‘Eggs Benedict and an Americano with hot milk for me, thanks.’

‘Thank you for meeting me,’ said Bloom. ‘I didn’t want to take a lawyer with me as that would have felt too much like I was guilty of something. But I’m glad to debrief with someone I trust.’

They talked about the investigation. They reviewed the original case. They discussed Professor Layton’s latest group of undergraduate students, who he described as lazy and rude (which was nothing new – he always described the undergraduates that way).

‘As I have you here, I wanted to pick your brains on another matter, if that’s OK?’ said Bloom as they came towards the end of their lunch.

Professor Layton nodded. ‘Of course.’

‘If you were to design a set of challenges that would appeal to psychopaths – a game, of sorts – where would you start?’

‘Why would I do that?’ He wiped his mouth with his napkin.

‘To recruit them for something.’

‘So I want to test how psychopathic they are?’

‘Probably.’

‘And what type of psychopath? Criminal or functional?’