The coast path ahead broadens out into a wide grassy track, ridged with trails left by sheep. There are one or two walkers, but most people are enjoying the sea and the sand below. It’s what Kate should be doing on a beautiful day like today, not running beside a detective in pursuit of a man who keeps trying to kill her. Beyond the grassy expanse, where the steps come up from the beach, the path weaves its way through gorse bushes. For a moment, she can’t see Herman either and then he appears again from behind a bush, close to where the path enters the village.

‘He’s up by the first houses,’ she says, getting her breath back.

‘If he’s got a car, we’re stuffed,’ Strover says.

Five minutes later, they’re walking quickly through the village, scanning every side road and alley for the man. Strover’s already called Hart, given him an update. They try not to draw attention to themselves as they pass holidaymakers coming up from the beach laden with chairs and spades and buckets.

‘He could be anywhere,’ Kate says.

‘Problem is, we’re not officially here,’ Strover says. ‘Otherwise I’d call for back up.’

‘How do you mean?’ Kate glances at Strover.

‘We’re off duty.’

She gives Strover a puzzled look. She’d assumed they were down on official business.

‘Sad, I know,’ Strover says. ‘Daytrip to the seaside with my boss at the weekend. Such is the miserable state of my social life.’

‘Why are you really here, then?’

Strover looks out to sea, her neat, petite face glowing from the exercise, and then turns to Kate. ‘He was devastated when you were injured. We all were. When we saw the CCTV footage yesterday of you at the pub that night, he felt he had to investigate. In his own time.’

‘Because his boss wouldn’t have sanctioned it?’

Strover nods. Kate remembers his boss, the one who never believed in the super-recogniser unit, despite their results, and closed it down soon after her accident.

‘Why now, though?’ she asks. ‘How did you suddenly get the CCTV footage?’

She doesn’t expect Strover to answer. She learnt quickly that as a civilian she was not allowed to know the operational details of the cases she worked on.

‘Jake didn’t mention it, then?’ Strover says.

‘Jake?’

‘It was him who was sent the video.’

Why would Jake be sent CCTV footage of her at the pub that night? ‘Who by?’ she asks, her head spinning.

‘We don’t know.’

‘When?’

‘Yesterday.’

‘And someone sets fire to his boat last night?’ There must be a connection. Kate lets her words hang in the air, hoping Strover will join the dots.

‘I can’t tell you any more. I’m sorry,’ Strover says. ‘Trust me, we’re working on it.’