He makes another coffee and moves to the lounge. He opens up the Wodehouse novel and settles in for the last couple of chapters.

Artaud needs something different. He doesn’t have long left. His last book should carry some weight.

He finishes the last page and sighs.

Not worth it.

And he coughs more blood into a handkerchief.

107

It’s not his case.

But he wants it.

By the afternoon, Pace has received the all-clear from his superiors. They explain that it was protocol, a formality. That the stress of such a high-profile case tends to have an effect on the lead detective and with health and safety the way it is now, they had to cover their backs. They have to be more aware of mental health than ever.

Detective Sergeant Pace doesn’t care what they say.

Detective Sergeant Pace does not buy their bullshit.

He wants the bridges. He wants The People of Choice. He wants back in.

But all he gets is a welcome back.

It’s still not his case.

There were three texts on his phone when he woke up, and now she is calling.

‘Hey,’ he says, as though he hasn’t been avoiding her.

‘Hey. I’ve been trying to get hold of you to see how it went.’ She sounds genuinely concerned. She wants to ask where the fuck he has been, hasn’t he seen her messages? But she bites her tongue.

‘How what went?’

‘Your last session was yesterday, right?’

‘Oh, that. Yes. All finished. Nothing to worry about.’ Pace starts to walk away from his desk.

‘Well, that’s great news.’

Neither of them says anything.

Then Maeve breaks the silence. ‘So…’ she draws the words out ‘…come and see me. Tonight. After work. It’s been ages. You can tell me all about it. I’ll get some wine.’

Pace doesn’t answer straight away. He is standing in the doorway, looking around the office, gauging the room. There’s the usual bustle of activity but also a feeling of resignation, a slump.

‘Tonight?’ he answers, eventually.

‘Unless you have other plans…’

‘No. No other plans. Of course not. It’s not like they’re throwing big cases at me right away. I should be done by seven and I’ll swing by.’

It’s not exactly the response Maeve was hoping for. Swing by? Is that it? But she smiles through it.

‘Great. I’ll grab some food, too.’

That will stop it from being just a swing-by.

‘See you then.’ And he ends the call.

Detective Sergeant Pace has cases assigned to him that he is yet to complete. Boring stuff. Everyday misdemeanours. He has five hours until he’s supposed to visit Maeve. His bosses have loosened the leash now they have Artaud’s report; their focus is elsewhere. That’s plenty of time for Pace to start looking into The People of Choice. Because Paulson is fucking it up. He’s nowhere.