‘None of your business,’ Overbeck snapped before dropping her shoulders. ‘Cut him some slack. I had to lower his expectations of our relationship recently.’

Ava took a breath. ‘Will do,’ she said, waiting until Overbeck had cleared the corridor before exiting herself.

Lowering the expectations of a relationship. That was a euphemism and a half. Lively would be crushed. In spite of the extreme differences between her sergeant and her superintendent, the former was very much in love with the latter. Policing really was a recipe for relationship disaster. She knew that better than most. It was her first full day back at work and she was about to pull her team apart.

‘Good morning,’ she said, glad everyone was in the briefing room and ready to start when she arrived. At least she’d managed to avoid making small talk.

The crowd was silent. She’d forgotten about her face. For most of them, it was the first time they were seeing her since the explosion. She was healing now, but her skin was still peppered with cuts from glass shrapnel. Both eardrums had been punctured. She had nosebleeds three or four times a day. Her eyes were sore and she was suffering some hair loss, likely from the shock as much as the impact, the doctors had told her. It would get better. She’d heal. More to the point, she’d deliberately thrown a woman out of a window. Ava had no idea how she was supposed to heal from that.

‘Janet Monroe sends you all her regards. She’s doing well and hopes to be back on duty in a week or so. No permanent damage. In true MIT form, she expects to have all of her drinks paid for over the next twelve months.’ That at least got a small laugh. ‘Lance Proudfoot, the journalist who intervened, was more badly injured, but he, too, should make a full recovery.’

‘Are you all right, ma’am?’ someone asked.

‘Cut myself shaving,’ she replied.

Bigger laugh that time.

Callanach wandered in, leaning against the wall, hands in pockets. She tried not to look at him, but it was as hard then as the first day he’d arrived. It was his looks that got most people’s attention, but that hadn’t been it for Ava. Luc Callanach was an enigma. He kept so much inside, so much gentle warmth that he covered with intense professionalism. He was funny, but he never tried to be. His instinct for police work was incredible. And when he looked in her eyes, it was as if no one else existed. As if no one else had ever existed, in fact. No one who mattered.