Hanson watched him return to his office, still a little disappointed at missing out on Louise’s grilling. Not that she didn’t have plenty to be getting on with. She needed to put together a new social media post asking for information on Louise Reakes, and ask her colleagues in Intelligence to circulate it to the public in case someone had seen her on her way home. It would also be up to her, as the team’s constable, to appear in front of the magistrates tomorrow to ask for their custody extension. But before doing any of that, she finished loading up the Mother Pluckers’ website. She shook her head as she flicked through their pictures.

‘Oh my God, look at this one,’ she said, turning her screen so that Ben could see. It was an aggressively arty black-and-white image of the group posing in leather jackets. ‘It looks like a poorly thought-through eighties album cover. I love it.’

Ben nodded. ‘Fo sho, motherplucker.’

Hanson laughed so loudly that Jason looked over from the far side of CID with a frown. She mouthed at him, ‘I’ll tell you later,’ a little guiltily, and then, still grinning, started to get their case against Louise Reakes moving.

Patrick arrived a little over an hour after Louise had called him, and her feelings as the dashing, ever so slightly chubby solicitor was let into the interview room were entirely mixed. Relief made up a big part. She had someone to fight her corner now. But on top of all that, she felt a nauseous, squirming sense of shame. Patrick was the last person she wanted to be going into all this with. She wished, helplessly, that he could have been simply her lawyer, and not Niall’s best friend.

Patrick’s smile was warm and confident, and she tried to return it. She wondered how he would look at her once she’d explained everything. Once he knew.

He settled himself into a chair opposite her, and placed his dark brown leather case, which looked like it cost about the same as Niall’s car, on top of the table. Then he drew out a notebook and a silver fountain pen, as though they were his weapons.

‘How are you holding up?’ he asked her, all brown-eyed charm.

‘All right,’ she said. And then she added, wanting to make sure he really did like her before the shit hit the fan, ‘Better now that you’re here.’

‘Good. Good. I’ve managed to get through to Niall. He’s just landed. He won’t be long.’

It was supposed to be comforting, Louise knew. Instead the threat of Niall arriving drove her anxiety up to a critical level. She’d thought she’d have more time.

Patrick unscrewed the lid of his fountain pen. ‘So. Tell me.’