‘Charlotte . . .’ Jack was so tired that he couldn’t get any more words out. His whole body felt as if he’d been kicked through a hedge and then trampled on, but he was still trying his best not to let the wound in his arm bleed onto Ridley’s pale leather seat.

‘She delivers their fruit and veg. Betina gave up Borreson’s name and address as soon as she realised that we knew everything. She wanted us to know that she’d not hurt anyone, and never would. When Gifford got to Borreson’s house, he was sitting at his desk in a puddle of urine, staring at a camera that wasn’t even turned on, waiting for his wife to walk through the door. He’d been told that if he moved, she’d die. She’s OK. Tied up in a disused barn on a neighbour’s property.’

Jack let his head fall back and closed his eyes. He had so much still to think about.

First and foremost was the fact that with the man he respected most in the world sat next to him, between his feet, part hidden underneath his jacket, he had the small black rucksack with the stolen diamond bracelet in it along with a large amount of cash, although he didn’t yet know how much.

‘We got them all,’ Ridley concluded. ‘You got them all, Jack. Well done. I’ve got a meeting with DCI Hearst tomorrow where I intend to tell her about the protection I promised Charlotte Miles.’

‘You promised?’ Jack said.

Ridley shrugged. ‘It sounds less insubordinate than my DS doing it behind my back.’

Jack didn’t say his next thought out loud: And she likes you, so she’ll forgive you. Instead, he thanked Ridley for trusting him that Charlotte was an unwilling participant.

‘DCI Hearst is a pragmatist, Jack. She’ll be lenient with Charlotte, in the service of the greater good. Gifford will retire on a high, Oxford will get their killer and we . . . well, I’m not sure what we get other than a firm handshake and a warm feeling inside for having done an amazing job. But isn’t that always the way?’

Ridley’s genuine contentment at having done his job was written all over his face. It was admirable. Enviable. Ridley was a copper through and through. Jack started from the same place, had all of the same intentions and relished the wins just as much as Ridley; but he needed more.

Jack squeezed his ankles together, gripping the small black rucksack to make sure that taking it hadn’t been some sort of hallucination brought on by the pain spreading through his body. It hadn’t. The rucksack was definitely there.