It didn’t escape Fleet that he was as much trying to reassure himself.

Holly took hold of his hands. ‘I know you will,’ she told him, with a certainty Fleet wished he shared.

Holly glanced at Fleet’s desk, which was covered in paperwork and printouts. There were also two untouched cups of coffee, which someone must have brought him at some point, though Fleet could not have said when.

‘When did you last take a break?’ Holly asked him. ‘I bet you haven’t eaten all day.’

Fleet smiled tiredly. Holly was right, but food was the last thing on his mind.

‘I had a sandwich an hour or so ago,’ he lied.

Holly obviously took pity on him, because she pretended to believe him. ‘Well,’ she said. ‘You still look like you could use a break. Come on. Let’s get some air.’

‘I can’t, Sprig, I have to …’ Fleet didn’t finish the sentence, but instead gestured uselessly towards his desk.

‘You can,’ Holly insisted. ‘And we don’t have to go far. You never know, a fresh perspective might help.’

After letting the other officers involved in the search know where he would be, Fleet led Holly to the lifts, and together they rode to the rooftop.

The roof was where Fleet and others in the building came to smoke. It wasn’t Fleet’s preferred option. But he was better on the roof than he would have been on a ladder, and when the choice was between smoking up here or not smoking, it was barely a choice at all.

Out of habit he’d wedged a cigarette between his lips and readied his lighter even before they’d reached the door leading outside. It was only when he cupped his hands and brought the flame to the tobacco that he remembered he was supposed to have given up.

‘Go ahead,’ Holly told him, when she noticed him stall and glance her way. ‘You look like you need it.’

Still Fleet hesitated, his eyes this time going to Holly’s midriff.

Holly smiled. ‘I’ll stand upwind.’

They made their way past a group of younger officers vaping beside an air conditioning unit, and towards a private corner of the rooftop. Without consciously realising it, Fleet had taken them to the side of the building that faced towards the docks.

He lit his cigarette, and then tilted his head and exhaled towards the sky. Above them, the moon was a ghostly scimitar among the stars.

‘Are you warm enough?’ Holly asked him. She was still wearing her coat, but Fleet had left his suit jacket in his office. The breeze this high up was strong enough to sweep the smoke away, and there was a chill in the autumn air – a gentle hint of the approaching winter. But Fleet was numb to everything except the sickness in his gut.

‘I’m fine,’ he said.