Alex didn’t know what else to do. He had no idea what he was looking for, nor, if he was honest, why he’d felt the need to come racing over here.

He mumbled something about having to get back to HQ, and hoped his colleague wouldn’t suddenly come to life and start asking what he was doing there. However, she nodded and smiled, even thanked him. Alex headed for the door, desperate to get out of that claustrophobic office. Someone needed to find out what had happened to Noah, as a matter of urgency. And someone needed to take a fresh look at his brother’s move to Australia.

Alex paused in the doorway.

A sheet of white paper was sticking out behind one of the bookshelves.

His pulse rate increased, for some inexplicable reason.

The whole room was full of papers and documents – why bother about a single page that had drifted away?

He didn’t understand the instinctive decisions people made, but without hesitation he bent down and picked it up. In fact there were several sheets, folded in half. His hand shook slightly as he opened them up.

He began to read as he set off again. His pulse rate dropped. This was clearly a letter someone had written, a final message to a loved one.

My darling,

Some months have now passed since we were given the worst possible news . . .

His cheeks flushed with embarrassment. What the hell was he doing? Couldn’t he leave people in peace with their most private affairs?

He was about to go back and hand the letter to the female officer – ‘Look what I found’. But then he turned to the last page, read the end of the letter.

I am actually trying to take responsibility, in spite of all the years that have passed. As an author once said:

I am putting everything right.

I’m afraid I can’t do any more.

I love you more than anything.

Alex could hear his heartbeat pounding in his ears.

As an author once said.

I am putting everything right.

I’m afraid I can’t do any more.

But I can, Alex thought. I can.

Then he read the letter from beginning to end.

*

This wasn’t something he could keep to himself – he realised that immediately. He placed it in an evidence bag and took it back to HQ. Not in accordance with the rules, not in accordance with routine, and definitely not in accordance with Berlin’s express orders. For a moment he considered not informing her of what he’d done, but scrapped that idea at once. He couldn’t leave her out of the picture.

‘What the hell have you done?’ she yelled. ‘I told you Johansson’s murder was nothing to do with you! Nothing, Alex, nothing! And you went straight over to the crime scene.’

Alex shrugged, aware that he was acting like a child.