Hale smiled reassuringly at her. Jessica Boon – as Tina Barker was now known, the identity given to her after Hirst’s trial – had been at work when she was visited by Durham and his colleague. They had brought her home in the same police vehicle now parked outside, then left her inside with the three other officers assigned to their team.

Two of those were now in her living room, just a few steps and a sliding door from where she and Hale now sat. The third was in her garden. None had given her a proper explanation for all this, just vague reference to a threat to her safety. Hale could only imagine how frightening that must feel.

‘Jessica,’ he said gently. ‘Have you been told anything about why the other policemen and I are here tonight?’

She gave a slight shake of her head.

‘We’re here because of the actions of a man you testified against when you were a child, Jessica. Do you remember the name Karl Hirst?’

It did not matter how softly Hale delivered the words. Or how many years had passed. The name still seemed to strike like a bolt of electricity. Jessica immediately looked up. Her eyes bore into Hale’s own. Wide and fearful. But she remained silent.

‘I’ll take that as a “yes”, Jessica.’ Not that Hale had ever doubted the answer. ‘So I don’t need to tell you how seriously we take any threat involving that man.’

Jessica opened her mouth to speak. Hale noticed her right hand instinctively cup her left as she did so. Covering her two missing fingers. A subconscious act.

‘I . . . I . . . I don’t understand.’ Jessica’s voice was almost inaudible. ‘Karl Hirst was sent to prison for life.’

‘That’s not quite right,’ Hale explained. ‘He was released three years ago.’

Jessica’s eyes widened at Hale’s words. Tears had been building in them from the first moment Hale had met her. They now streamed down her cheeks.

‘But . . . but . . . that can’t be, that can’t be right.’ The weak voice was now breaking. ‘Mr Blunt said that he’d never be released. And Mr Devlin. They both . . . they both . . .’

Jessica’s voice trailed off.

Hale watched Jessica place her elbows onto the low table and drop her head into her open hands. Her thin, pale forearms looked barely strong enough to take the weight.

Hale found his gaze drift towards her left hand. A natural human reaction. Somehow Jessica’s lank black hair had fallen forward at exactly the right point, obscuring the view of her missing fingers. It could not be a coincidence, he thought; in the height of despair, Jessica was still obscuring her scars.

That one action, more than anything else, revealed to Hale the devastating truth about her life: whether called Tina Barker or Jessica Boon, this poor girl would never stop being Karl Hirst’s victim.

Jessica’s slight body shook with every sob. Both her physical and emotional weakness painfully evident. As Hale saw the effect of just the name ‘Karl Hirst’, he felt a combination of anger and sympathy churn within his gut.