He watched as the boy’s chest rose and fell rhythmically, and decided that his move to Greenborough had been a good one. He liked his new team, even if the boss did call them dysfunctional. And then there was DI Galena herself. She was not what the jungle drums had warned him about. Yes, she had a vitriolic tongue, and yes, she could put people’s backs up in an instant, but she was a complicated woman. There were deep, dark and tangled parts to her, but there was also intelligence, shrewdness and, above all, compassion. It didn’t show itself too often, but it was there all right. Joseph smiled and thought about Dave. Generally he was considered a scruffy, lazy bastard, but DI Galena had made it her business to look deeper, and that was why Dave was working with her right now. Joseph didn’t know the details – his guess was a disabled wife or mother – but the man had serious family commitments which left him exhausted and with no time to look after himself. If the DI had been the hardhearted harridan that so many thought her, she would not have taken the time to rescue Dave Harris. Then, of course, there was Cat Cullen. The DI took the piss out of her but openly respected her strengths, and Joseph had seen the effect that a word of praise from the boss had had on the girl earlier that day. It had really meant something to her. Okay, so they were a dysfunctional bunch, and he included himself in that statement, but he would prefer them over most of the people he’d worked with. He took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and wondered if he may have a chance to stay in Greenborough. Strangely, considering the havoc that surrounded him, he was beginning to like it.

At around 10.30 he stuck his head out of the door and asked one of the officers to get him a strong coffee. For some reason, he’d suddenly felt unnaturally twitchy about Mickey Smith and wanted to keep as alert as he could.

He sat back down and sipped the scalding liquid tentatively. Maybe it was the fact that he knew that Mickey had secrets that made him so edgy. If he knew, others would as well. Maybe it was those secrets that had put him into Intensive Care in the first place. And if it was, what the hell did he know that was worth going down for murder for?

The boy moved uncomfortably, then cried out, in fear and pain.

‘No! I’m sorry! Don’t hurt me! I’m sorry!’

‘Hey, it’s alright, Mickey. You’re safe now.’

‘Sergeant Joe! Don’t let him hurt me again.’

‘I won’t let anyone hurt you, son.’

The cries faded into sobs.

‘Who hurt you, Mickey?’

‘The man my friend works for,’ he whispered.

‘What friend is that?’

‘Marcus. Marcus Lee.’