Lucy felt vaguely aggravated. Ever since she’d returned to the DO that morning, Harry had seemed distracted and irritable. She knew that he was embroiled in constant legal tangles with his ex-wife, and he moaned endlessly about how much of his income drained away in maintenance payments for three children he never even got to see. That was bound to have preoccupied him to an extent. But she also suspected that he was manifesting some resentment about her recent dalliance with the Robbery Squad. At one time, Lucy’s own future in the police had looked bleak, with zero chance of a permanent detective role. But all that had now changed. In the last year, the good results had rolled in and suddenly she was the girl everyone was interested in. Harry meanwhile, through his own numerous gaffes, was still rooted firmly on the first rung of the ladder. It was easy to see how that would peeve him. But while it might serve as an excuse in Harry’s mind, it was hardly helpful when they had a shedload of work to get through.

‘Harry … how much have you actually done on this?’ she asked.

He turned a stony expression towards her. ‘I’ve had other stuff to get on with too, you know. While you were gallivanting round town all night with idiots like Danny Tucker and Lee Gaskin.’

‘Trust me, I wasn’t gallivanting with Lee Gaskin.’ She took a breath. ‘But the point is taken, I wasn’t here … so, let me rephrase … how much progress on this have you managed to make?’

‘Well …’ he slipped his phone into his raincoat pocket, ‘I think you’re right. I’m pretty sure there’s only one of them. We’ve got no dabs anywhere, but there are three separate instances where footprints were detectable: one in a flower bed, one on a lawn where there’s not much grass, one on a kitchen floor. Before you ask, in no case was a tread identifiable. Probably wearing worn-down boots or trainers.’

‘But they were all the same size?’

‘Yeah. Nine-and-a-halfs.’

That fitted, she supposed. Eight times out of ten in the UK, burglary was committed by male teenagers or male twenty-somethings.

‘But that’s not the main thing,’ Harry said. He spread the crime reports on his lap. ‘Here’s my thinking … these are the ten breaks on the Hatchwood we were assigned to look into.’ He separated the paperwork into two piles, one smaller than the other, patting the larger one first. ‘These are the eight we should be interested in.’

‘Those eight are defo connected?’ Lucy said.

‘I think so.’ He handed her the other two reports. ‘The victimology in these two is not the same.’