She gave him a steely look, challenging him to start complaining about the sanctity of Christmas, only a few days away. She didn’t think he would: people knew what they were signing up for when they entered the service. Goodbye, private life. It shouldn’t have come as a surprise that crime continued to occur even on high days and holidays. Imagine if all police officers decided not to bother working at those times.

He seemed about to speak, but then he dropped his eyes. “Yes, of course. Sorry, it’s not me. It’s Felicia; she’s all set for a day at home.”

“You don’t have to work, Steve. I can have another officer replace you on the case. But if you were hoping to make detective, a case like this could really give you the edge. It’s up to you.”

As she walked toward her car, she felt confident that Atkinson would make the right decision. The truth was that Steve was like Jo when it came down to it: married to the job. Of course he loved his girlfriend; that was clear from the way he was around her. But Felicia was going to need to accept that she was always going to come second in Steve’s life to what he cared most about: making the world a better place.

As she drove through the deserted streets, Joanna felt fortunate that Amy wasn’t anything like Felicia. Broken dinner dates didn’t matter between them, not in the long run, because Jo sometimes needed to prioritize work. Amy understood that. It was confusing to Jo, then, that as she approached the house she shared with her girlfriend she could see Amy coming out the door, holding a large suitcase and wearing a decidedly pissed-off expression on her face.

Jo parked up and got out just as Amy slammed her own car boot shut. It was so full of stuff that the lock wouldn’t quite catch. She stood and watched as Amy tried to force it closed.

“What’s going on?” asked Jo.

Amy gave one last push, and the boot clicked shut. “What does it look like?” she said, turning and leaning on the car, arms folded.

“Hey, I’m sorry I missed dinner. There was a big case and I had to—”

“I don’t care.”

“What?”

“I don’t care what it was. For once, I thought you’d be able to keep a promise to me.”

“But Amy, I didn’t have a choice—”

“That’s bullshit, Jo, and you know it.”

Amy was shivering in the wintry air.

“You’re cold. Why don’t we go inside, and we can talk about it.”

“There’s no point. You don’t listen to me.”

Jo felt surprised at that. “I do listen to you.”