Strover raises her eyebrows in disapproval at him. She’s right. He hasn’t come all this way to discuss Kate’s love life. It’s why Silas likes working with Strover. She keeps him in check, brings something to the table that he never can, not even after the amount of time he’s spent in nail bars.

‘What’s the photo?’ Kate asks.

Silas turns to Strover, who pulls out a folder from her bag.

‘The night of the accident,’ Strover begins, ‘when you were driving home—’

‘I really don’t remember anything about it,’ Kate says, interrupting her and glancing at Silas. ‘I’ve told you all I know.’

‘It’s OK,’ Silas says, sensing her alarm, her reluctance to revisit the accident. For the first month in hospital she wasn’t able to talk about it at all. Even when she was well enough, she couldn’t tell them anything useful. ‘Something new’s come to light, that’s all.’

‘About that night?’

He turns to Strover again, keen to let her lead the conversation, allowing him to watch Kate more closely, read her responses.

‘It seems you stopped off at a pub on the way home,’ Strover says.

Kate flinches. ‘We’ve been through this,’ she says. ‘I don’t remember anything, not even leaving the office that night. It had been a pretty shit week.’

Silas had worked her to the bone. The results were coming thick and fast. And then she’d seen Jake on camera with another woman. A shit week, as she says.

‘Where did I go?’ she asks.

‘The Bluebell in Rockbourne,’ Strover says. ‘It’s about halfway between Gablecross and the canal.’

Kate glances up at them both, seemingly surprised. ‘I went there a few times, towards the end. To clear my head.’ She looks down. ‘But I don’t remember going that night.’

She’s holding something back, Silas is sure of it.

‘You ordered an Aperol spritz,’ Strover continues, seeking approval from her boss.

Silas nods.

‘Look, we all know I’d had a drink before the accident,’ Kate says. ‘And we all know why I needed one.’

Her eyes have a hint of accusation in them. Silas turns away. He pushed the team too hard, he accepts that now. He turns to face her again.

‘Why did you choose the Bluebell?’ he asks.

Kate looks up at him, guilt in her eyes. Christ, his suspicions are right.

‘I should never have been there,’ she says. ‘It was a stupid idea. I was frustrated when we were pulled off the county lines job, wanted to prove a connection with the modern slavery gang we were investigating.’

Silas sighs, shaking his head. As he feared, Kate visited the pub to identify someone. She was a civilian, not a detective, with no legal powers to investigate. ‘So you went there to make a spot,’ he says.

‘I know it wasn’t my job…’