‘Would it have made a difference to us if he had? Have you been thinking all this time that I’m soiled goods?’

‘No. That’s not what I meant!’ Dom raised his hands in a conciliatory gesture and in the process knocked over his glass of wine. Red liquid pooled on the table between them.

The row escalated and Archer packed her bags, leaving earlier than expected for Wales. They didn’t speak for a week, until Dom broke the silence and showered her with gifts and apologies. It took her another week to fully calm down and by the time the assignment was over, she was ready to return to London and patch things up.

She stands and rubs her temples. Things have been going well for them recently. She has taken this role at the Met, which means they will have more time together, despite her decision to move in temporarily with Grandad. She should have involved Dom in that decision. But she didn’t. That was her bad and she has to make amends.

She squints at her phone and dials his number, but once again the call goes straight to voicemail. She doesn’t leave a message.

Her phone pings immediately and she reaches across for her glasses and looks at the device, which displays a WhatsApp notification from DCI Pierce.

Not Dom.

It seems the DCI has just created a WhatsApp group called Forsaken Murders containing all the staff working on the @nonymous killings.

9 a.m. mandatory meeting this morning. I have to talk to the press later and want a) comprehensive update on what we know so far and b) what we are doing next. Do not be late.

Archer drops the phone on the bed, irked by the sharp tone of Pierce’s message. This will not be an easy briefing, especially considering they are understaffed and, let’s be honest, underskilled. In Pierce’s eyes, of course, that is no reason for a lack of progress and Archer knows, as the SIO, it will be her that will be held accountable.

She considers her options and after a moment reaches for her laptop and phone.

*

It’s almost 9 a.m. and Archer is waiting for printouts from the laser printer. She looks toward the incident room and sees Felton, Os, Tozer and Phillips file their way inside and sit at the conference table, where Pierce is head down leafing through a document. Quinn is missing and she wonders where he could be. Hicks is somewhere in the office; the acrid scent of his spicy deodorant is everywhere.

‘I know what you did,’ comes a voice that startles her.

She turns to see Hicks lean against the corner of the copier, his canine eyes fixed on hers. She holds his gaze but is interrupted by the copier when it stops printing. A paper error appears on the screen. Archer inserts a batch of new sheets and presses the start button.