Moments later, the door opened, and Charlie Sweeney left, nodding to one of the older gardaí waiting outside as he passed. Niall took his seat in the briefing room. Carrie sat beside him.

“What was all that about?” she whispered.

He gave her a sideways look, a smile fighting his best efforts to suppress it. “Can’t tell you yet,” he said.

“What?”

“You’ll find out tomorrow, along with everyone else.”

Carrie felt her heart sink. She turned to the front and swallowed hard. Tomorrow the latest round of transfers would be announced, meaning everyone who had applied to the Special Detective Unit would find out whether they’d been accepted. Niall had obviously been given the nod in advance. What did that mean? Had everyone who’d made it been told already? Which meant what . . . that she hadn’t? Carrie swallowed again; her mouth suddenly dry. She told herself she was overreacting. Niall could be talking about anything. And not to be funny or arrogant or whatever, but there was no way he would have gotten the nod ahead of her. When she was following through on inquiries, he went drinking with the lads or played hurling or whatever it was he did at the weekend that resulted in his coming to work on a Monday morning with more cuts and bruises than a UFC fighter.

Carrie snapped out of it and forced herself to concentrate on the briefing. She tuned in just in time to learn that she’d been paired up with Niall for the night ahead, and she groaned inwardly. Whatever his secret was, she knew he wouldn’t be able to resist dangling it in front of her in every spare moment. She resolved not to be a paranoid idiot who read too much into things.

They were on the way down the stairs when she realized just how hard it was going to be. It was pissing down rain outside, her Nurofen was wearing off, and Niall couldn’t get the grin off his face.

“All right, spill,” she said.

He shook his head. “It’s nothing, not a thing.”

But before they took another step, a voice came from behind them, from the top of the stairs. “Carrie, have you a minute?” She turned to see Martin looking down at them. He was in full uniform, and he’d found time to get a haircut since she’d last seen him.

“Yes, of course,” she said. She went back up the stairs and followed Martin as he led the way to a small meeting room and closed the door behind them. Her heart was beating faster, and she swallowed. Could this be good news? It was weird to stand here in front of him in the sober light of day. The last time she’d seen him, he’d felt almost like a friend.

“I’m sorry, Carrie,” he said. “The news will be out tomorrow, but I wanted to give you a heads up. It’s not your year.”

Carrie sat on the edge of the interview table. She felt the mortifying pressure of tears and blinked rapidly.