But he had work to do.

Sighing, pushing the image of her aside, he looked out through the half-glassed door that not too long ago Fiona had crashed a chair through, and thought that she was making progress. Fiona’s back was turned toward him, but there was a definite change in her that anyone could see. She wasn’t fidgety now. She sat there and talked to Paddy quite rationally, drank the muddy cop shop coffee that he’d brought her. She was wearing a fawn coat that matched her newly dyed hair colour with matching shoes and carrying a smart tan holdall. This was the Fiona of old, Farmer thought, the respectable housewife whose tidy world had been ripped apart by her philandering, devious pig of a husband.

Then his phone rang. He snatched it up.

‘Farmer?’ snapped a voice. It was the Super.

‘Yessir.’

‘Get in here.’

Farmer went out into the main office, along the corridor and into the Superintendent’s domain. The Super was a short, squat, irritable-looking man of about fifty. He glared up at Farmer.

‘Shut the bloody door,’ he said, and Farmer did.

Then for ten minutes Farmer received what his old DI David Hunter would have called ‘the bollocking of his life’.

‘You drop this ruddy Maguire nonsense,’ said the Super, summing up. ‘Wasting fucking police time, what the hell d’you think you’re paid for? You drop it. Right now. Clear?’

So someone had shopped him. Maybe the Jacksons, or more likely that chubby stuttering cunt of a solicitor.

‘OK, sir,’ he said, and went back to his own office and ploughed on with other work.

When he next looked up, Paddy was on his feet and ushering Fiona Maguire out to the front of the office. Then Paddy returned, knocked on Farmer’s door, and entered.

‘She OK?’ asked Farmer, his ears still ringing from the Super’s angry words.

‘Right as ninepence,’ said Paddy, slumping into a seat. ‘She’s doing well. Talking about being in touch with her daughter again. Talking about retraining, getting a job. She used to be a secretary, years ago. Of course she still wants to find that bastard Maguire. Fat chance of that. Wherever he is, he wants to stay hidden, that’s for sure.’

‘Best for her if he does, probably.’

‘Yeah, but how to make her see that?’

‘Love is blind,’ said Farmer. ‘Oh – hold up.’

Fiona was hurrying back into the office, stopping to talk to one of the female DCs then shoving past her. The DC came after her, but Fiona was heading full speed for Farmer’s office. She snatched open the door and came in, wild-eyed.

So much for Paddy’s ‘new woman’, thought Farmer before she ran up to his desk, clutched a hand to her chest and said: ‘I’ve just seen her.’

The female DC was right on Fiona’s heels, grabbing at her arm. Farmer looked at her, shook his head. ‘It’s OK,’ he said, standing up. Paddy lumbered to his feet too. Farmer stared at Fiona. She looked like she’d had a nasty turn. ‘Seen who?’ he asked her.