‘Come here.’ Grabbing the seat of my stool, he pulled it across the wooden floor towards him with ease. Resting his hand on my back, goosebumps appeared beneath his palm. It was good that fear and excitement could have the same physical effects on the body. I had that in my favour. Ian assumed I was putty in his hands. His arrogance gave it away. I wasn’t sure if I was being courted or groomed? He stroked my back, his thumb rubbing the feather tattoo that Ben’s lips had been on last night. It made me squirm. ‘I’m not going to hurt you,’ he said, kissing the side of my head. Little did he know, he already had. But I would be getting my own back later.

We sat side by side with Ian’s fingers caressing my skin until we finished our drinks and he suggested we move on to the restaurant. I climbed down from the stool and Ian held out my jacket to slip on. Mangos was full of revellers; I hadn’t notice it get so crowded. As Ian led me toward the door, he reached back and caught my hand, entwining his fingers in mine so as not to lose me. Or maybe he thought he owned me already? Outside, the temperature had dropped and I kept my head down as we hurried along, into the wind.

‘Eve?’

I lifted my head. Ben stood in front of us, blocking the pavement, a quizzical expression on his face. He caught sight of our interlocked hands. My fingers slackened, but Ian held my fingers in a vice-like grip. He wasn’t letting go.

Sunday 28 January 2018 – DC Becker

I grab a coffee from the machine and ring the childminder to see if Lily is still being clingy; but no, of course not, today she is fine. She’s an angel with anyone who isn’t me. Sometimes it feels like a vendetta, but that’s the sleep deprivation talking. It’s impossible to grasp that someone who relies on you so much, someone you adore, can be so awful. Steve is concerned its post-natal depression, but I’m sure it’s not. Motherhood is just hard, right? For everyone?

Back at my desk, I pick up the map and shake my head to refocus. So, Eve isn’t all she seems. I hate that Hicks gets these hunches, this sixth sense, that bypasses me. Is it his years of experience, he’s been in the force since he was eighteen, or is being a copper not what I was destined for? Too late for a change of career now, almost ten years in.