Nikki strode down to the front desk. The new recruit would be here shortly and, as she obviously could do nothing to alter that fact, she’d get in first and leave him a message to report directly to her office.

‘When Detective Sergeant Easter arrives, please tell him …’

‘Oh, he’s already here, ma’am.’ The officer feigned surprise that she should not know this fact. ‘He arrived over half an hour ago. He’s with the superintendent.’

Nikki bit back a retort, settled for a muttered ‘thank you’, and turned on her heel. She really should have known that Mr Efficiency would be early.

For a moment she felt very tired. Very tired of what she had become. She had never set out to be the Fenland Constabulary’s number-one harridan. Over the years it had just kind of turned out that way. When the people you worked with are not as driven as you are, it’s inevitable that you end up resenting each other. And now the Super would, no doubt, be sitting in his office, sipping tea, and prepping the new boy for what he should expect from working with Old Nick.

She pushed open the door to CID, then halted abruptly, as she saw Superintendent Bainbridge talking to a tall, fair, floppy-haired man.

‘Ah, Nikki! Excellent! Excellent!’

The bogus bonhomie that the big man was exuding was almost sick-making, and Nikki was forced to recall that this was her last chance in the eyes of top brass.

‘I’d like you to meet your new colleague.’ He turned to the man and said, ‘Detective Sergeant Joseph Easter, this is Detective Inspector Nikki Galena.’

The hand was already outstretched and waiting. As she shook it, she fought to conceal her surprise. Her initial impression of Joseph Easter was a very long way from anything she had expected. The face was almost familiar, not because she had ever met him before, but from a grainy black-and-white photograph that had hung on her daughter’s bedroom wall when she was going through her ‘deeply misunderstood and unfairly burdened with the worries of the world’ phase. The man bore an uncanny resemblance to Rupert Brooke. Older, sure, but the ghost of the dead poet called out from behind the eyes of the policeman. Even more astounding than the unexpected good looks was the fact that rather than looking paunchy and pious, he was downright sexy.

‘It’s an honour to work with you, ma’am.’ Joseph looked her directly in the eyes, and Nikki found it hard to hold his gaze. ‘Even if it is only for a month.’