Hicks’s forehead crumples as he scans the preliminary lab results which have just been sent through. The ingrained lines doubling, the harder he frowns at the page.

‘Why would she lie?’ I ask.

He shrugs, he’s not interested in debating, but I can tell something is troubling him.

‘She’s admitted killing him. There’s no reason for her to lie,’ I continue.

‘I think she’s lying about how it went down. Something’s not right. I’ve got a feeling.’ He’s still frowning, patting his stomach to indicate the bad feeling is coming from his gut. ‘Did she deliberately mislead us with her name?’ he continues.

‘That was our mistake, not hers,’ I say dismissively and gesture towards the paper he’s holding with the lab results.

‘Nothing surprising, his blood type on her, there’s tissue under her fingernails, but still waiting on DNA confirmation, but I think we’re safe to assume it’s him. Both fingerprints have been found on the knife, in different places, conducive to how she handled it. No trace of her so far in the kitchen, only prints in the bathroom and living room.’

The girl looks too fragile for this and I’m concerned for her state of mind. I can tell Hicks thinks she’s too contained, but I believe she’s in shock. Knowing she was raped only a few months ago, she must have some residual post-traumatic stress. It’s no wonder she reacted like she did. I would have done the same. Working these kinds of cases never gets easier. Looking at her is like looking in the mirror at myself twenty years ago.

‘Have you seen the papers?’ Guy, the newest member of our team, comes rushing in to the kitchenette, flapping the Daily Mirror. I scan the text before handing it to Hicks.

‘Shit,’ I sigh, this could change things. ‘Has the boss seen it yet?’

Guy shakes his head. He’s on loan from another station, pending a transfer after buying a house in the next county. I like him, but Hicks isn’t too keen, although he takes a while to warm up to anybody. I can see why he rubs Hicks up the wrong way, Guy is like a puppy, constantly bouncing and requiring attention.

‘Who do you think leaked it?’ I ask.

Guy’s eyes glint at the possibility of an internal leak.

‘No idea.’ The headline is ‘Victim Arrested in Rapist’s Killing’. A photo of a brunette Eve holding a cocktail is framed by three paragraphs of outrage on the miscarriage of justice.