I’m staring at my face, the reflection of toilet stalls behind me. The alarm’s so loud in my head I can’t hear anything else. I find I’m washing my hands in the tepid water. My body freezes but my heart still pumps. How did I get here? I don’t remember coming here. I’m sweating hard, trying to piece it together. I’d been talking to Beving. But then the memory stops. I don’t recall what happened next and yet here I am. A toilet flushes, a stall door opens and a female officer steps out. I see her look of shock register in the mirror.

I’m only just recovering when Vermeer catches me in the corridor.

‘You look terrible.’

‘I’m fine,’ I tell her. I’ve been on this slope before, and it’s slippery as hell. ‘What have you got?’

‘Figured we could take a ride out to see Klaasen.’

‘Why? I already saw him. He’s in no state to tell anyone anything.’

Plus, I’m still feeling fragile. I’m not sure I can handle going back to prison again. Especially after what happened last time.

‘So you say. But we’ve now got nothing. Huisman’s a bust and Kleine’s killer is still out there.’

‘I’ve got something.’

‘What?’

I tell her about my talk with the nurse, the sheet of photos and the possible threat she’d been given when she asked a few questions. I then fill her in on the recruitment agency.

‘Why didn’t you say that before? Jesus. Let’s go.’

Which I take to mean she’s interested. Down in the car pool the sergeant slides a key over. Whilst Vermeer’s signing for it I pick it up.

She turns to look at me. ‘What are you doing?’

‘Thought I’d drive.’

‘I saw the size of that … what do you call it?’

‘Dab.’

‘Right, I saw the size of that dab you took, so if you think I’m letting you get behind the wheel of a car, far less getting in beside you, then you’ve clearly got fewer brain cells left than I’d given you credit for.’

‘Whatever, I’ll let you drive then.’

‘Damn right you will.’

I toss the key over. She snatches it mid-air.