‘I see.’ Jazz nodded. ‘And what would the commissioner want me to do, exactly?’

‘To head it up, of course. In the first instance, to recruit a small roving team that would liaise with the Serious Crimes Units in the regions mentioned above, and work with them in tandem. It’s a specialised job, Hunter. You need excellent people skills and an ability to adapt to a hundred different situations. And I’d say you’d just had the perfect taster at St Stephen’s.’

Jazz realised Norton had almost certainly known all about this new department when he’d come to see her a couple of weeks ago and offered her the St Stephen’s case. He’d been testing her out. On one hand, she was irritated she’d been manipulated; on the other, she felt honoured they valued her highly enough to bother.

‘Forgive me if this a surprise, Sir. I wasn’t expecting it. Can I have a few days to think about it?’

‘No longer than a couple of days, Hunter. I’ve stuck my neck out for you on this one. The commissioner is already nervous about your so-called “sabbatical” and has voiced his worry that you may disappear off into the deep blue yonder again. If you’re going for this, I want us all to feel you are one hundred and ten per cent committed.’

‘I understand, Sir. What about staff? Could I look to take some of my old colleagues with me?’

‘A couple at the most,’ warned Norton. ‘I’ve lost enough of my troops in the past year one way and another. I presume you’d want Miles. He’s been here for a long time now. Maybe he could do with a new challenge. Never felt we’ve quite brought out the best in him,’ Norton mused. ‘But you seem to. And maybe a change, plus a promotion might be the answer.’

Norton looked at his watch.

Jazz took it as the cue to take her leave. She stood up and offered her hand across the desk to Norton. ‘Thank you, Sir, I really appreciate the faith you’ve shown in me. I’ll be back to you by the end of the week, I promise.’

‘Good. I hope the answer’s in the affirmative.’

Jazz turned and walked towards the door. As she opened it, he said, ‘Hunter?’

‘Yes, Sir?’

‘Don’t let him win, will you?’

She smiled to herself. ‘I’ll try not to, Sir, I promise.’

Jazz drove along the A11 towards Norfolk, her mind ticking over.

Don’t let him win . . .

They were powerful words, but she couldn’t afford to make a decision based on anything other than what she wanted from the rest of her life.

She’d already made two major changes: divorcing Patrick and leaving London. And as her cottage began to take shape, she knew she was going to love living there.

But could she seriously see herself living without the adrenalin of her job? However frustrating and demoralising it sometimes was.

She was good at it, very good. And she liked the feeling. Perhaps without Patrick there to patronise her and strip her of her confidence, she might like it even more . . .