Lucy was back in Robber’s Row CID not long before one o’clock, the case against Darren Pringle proved and the regular offender finally in receipt of the custodial sentence he’d deserved for so very long. He’d been led down to the cells, looking totally stunned that four months’ imprisonment now hung over his head, but Lucy knew that it was a minuscule punishment in reality. If he kept his nose clean, and he likely would given that he’d be in a short-stay facility where it was in everyone’s interest to behave themselves, he’d be out in two. And then, not long after that – who knew, maybe at the end of his first-night-of-freedom party – he’d come reeling out of the pub plastered, and start throwing more drunken punches. If or when he did that, she wouldn’t be too far away, and so they’d go through the whole dispiriting, time-consuming procedure again. But at least it wasn’t her problem for the time being.

The detectives’ office – or ‘DO’ as it was known locally – was its usual hive of midday activity, with many comings and goings, keyboards chattering, phones ringing.

‘Result, Luce!’ DS Banks shouted from across the room, briefly breaking off from a phone call. Lucy acknowledged with a thumbs-up, before stripping her mac off, draping it over the back of her chair and slumping down at her desk. Here, she found a note from Harry, explaining that he was now over on the Hatchwood, getting the ball rolling by re-interviewing the various burglary victims that DI Beardmore had linked together. She was welcome to join him whenever she was able to.

Before she drove over there, Lucy grabbed herself a cheese sandwich and a cola from the machine outside the DO’s main doors, and opted to check through her emails.

Almost immediately, a piece of apparent junk offering cut-price Viagra caught her eye, the main reason being that it had slipped past the spam filter. She swilled cola and crammed down her butty as she made a note of the final few characters on its subject line.

TC – Borsd 1-15.

Meaningless to anyone not in the know, of course – more internet gobbledegook – but to Lucy it was as familiar as a street sign. She checked her watch. It was almost quarter past one now. The service would be departing the town centre imminently, which meant it would be calling outside the police station in the next ten minutes or so.