Hastily, she towelled herself dry from the shower and pulled on fresh jeans and a loose shirt, the simplest outfit in Caroline Jackson’s wardrobe. She wanted to be as close to Carol Jordan as she could manage. She finger-combed her hair and hastily applied lipstick. No time for more.

Her heart was racing as she waited for the lift. Calm down, she told herself. He’s not here for you. But deep down, she was convinced he was. The murder investigation might be the perfect excuse, but he’d resisted coming back into the game for the past two years. All that had changed was that this was an investigation that offered a chance to bring them together.

She knocked on the door and, suddenly, there he was, his familiar face as dear to her as ever. Impulsively, Carol stepped towards him. Their arms went round each other in a hug, her head on his shoulder, his hand in her hair. ‘Thank you for coming,’ Carol whispered.

Gently, Tony moved out of their embrace and closed the door behind her. ‘I knew Margarethe Schilling,’ he blurted out.

It hit her like a glass of wine in the face, taking her breath away and making her eyes smart. ‘What?’ she said, feeling stupid.

‘Tony ran a hand through his hair. The Bremen victim. I knew her.’

‘So you came out of … what? A desire for vengeance?’ Carol asked, following him and sitting down in the single armchair, taking care to stay well away from the window. Even though she hadn’t spotted a tail, that didn’t mean there wasn’t someone dogging her every move and she didn’t want to reveal herself anywhere she wasn’t supposed to be.

With his back to her, Tony stared out of the picture window into the street below. ‘Partly. Partly because I’m big-headed enough to think I can maybe help to save more lives. And partly because …’ He paused, searching for the right words. ‘Because what happened to Margarethe made me fret about the dangers you’re exposed to.’ He turned to face her, arms folded across his chest. ‘I don’t mean to sound presumptuous. I don’t know anyone who’s better at their job than you. I don’t know anyone who’s more self-sufficient or stronger.’ He looked down at the floor. ‘But I’d never forgive myself if anything happened to you that I might have helped prevent.’ He gave a short bark of laughter. ‘I don’t even know what I mean by that, which is a very strange thing for a psychologist to have to admit. I just… I don’t know. I suppose I wanted to be around in case there was anything I could do to help you.’