Whatever. Better to be anal than to miss something that could prove useful.

It was gone ten a.m. when Dani parked up in the city centre. As she headed towards the glass-canopied entrance to West Midlands Police headquarters she found herself slowing in her step as unwelcome thoughts wormed their way front of mind. As much as she’d longed to be back doing the job she loved during her long road to mental and physical recovery, there was no doubt she was incredibly apprehensive about now being back. Even though she was damn sure she needed the routine of her work in her otherwise empty life, she’d rarely felt as vulnerable as she did now that she was here.

She pushed the doubts away as best she could and continued across the road. The backs of her heels were already rubbing painfully against the tight-fitting new shoes she was wearing for the first time that day. Was it because they were new though, or because her feet had softened, given that it was so long since she’d worn anything other than trainers or flip-flops? With every stride she took the hard edge of the new leather wedged further into her broken skin and what with that, and the still rumbling doubts, a large part of Dani wished she was at home, wearing tracksuit bottoms and lounging on the sofa. Again.

No, come on, that’s not you. This is you.

She headed on inside and glanced around. Everything was different inside the HQ foyer. The large open space had been revamped and it now looked like the entrance to any modern corporate office block. There was an oversized, round reception counter plonked in the centre where three security guards were seated – though Dani noticed there were seats and computer screens for four. These weren’t desk sergeants like you’d get in a normal police station, just hired-in security staff for what was, essentially, mostly an administrative office, though the building also housed the Force CID Homicide team for the whole of the West Midlands.

Dani made her way up to the middle of the three security guards, the only one she recognised from the last time she’d been in the building over two years ago. She’d said hello and goodbye to him probably hundreds of times but knew him only as Bill.

‘Morning,’ Dani said, smiling widely when Bill clocked her.

‘DI Stephens!’ he said, his pouty face brightening. Bill was plump and bald, probably edging towards sixty, with a warm and kind face. ‘Long time no see.’

‘Tell me about it.’

‘You’re back?’

‘First day.’

Bill looked up, to the spot above her ear, and his smile faded. He quickly averted his eyes.

‘I heard about… you know. I’m glad you’re ok.’