It took him a minute to get started. He looked around the flat, soaking in the details. He looked at their bookshelves, their ancient TV, the Avoca blanket thrown over the back of the couch that their mother had saved for and given them for Christmas. Carrie wondered briefly what conclusions he was drawing from it all, then wanted to smack him and tell him to keep his eyes to himself.

“I listened to the tape,” he said. “That was a good interview. You . . . you did a good job.”

“Yes,” Carrie said.

“I interviewed her again myself. We’ve gone back to the pub, to Laura’s other friends. There’s more work to do, but we’ve already asked the DPP to drop the charges against Robert Collins. He’s going to be released today. Three o’clock. I thought you’d like to know.”

Carrie swallowed. She held his gaze, determined not to look away.

“Don’t get me wrong,” he said. “You still crossed the line. You’re a uniform. You don’t get to go off half-cocked, interviewing witnesses based on nothing more than your gut instinct.”

There was a noise from upstairs. It sounded like a dropped book. Charlie’s eyes flicked upward, and he shifted his position on the couch, pitching his voice a bit lower.

“But I was frustrated when I spoke to you in the canteen. This quota stuff. Whatever you want to call it. And I’d been told . . . Well, never mind. But what I heard on the tape, I think you’ve got the makings of a good detective. So I wanted to come here today and tell you that I’m sorry. And to give you a bit of encouragement, like.”

Carrie was quiet for a long time. Then she leaned forward. “I don’t want your apologies and I don’t need your encouragement.” She stopped, searching for the right words, for a more diplomatic way to express what she felt. But nothing else came, so she opened her mouth and let the words out.

“I just want you to get out of my way.”

That afternoon, Carrie and Aifric walked together to the prison. The walk took them down Gardiner Street, with the faded grandeur of its Georgian terraces, then down through the knot of streets that led out onto the North Circular Road. It had been raining all morning, but the clouds were parting now. The sunshine had little warmth to it, but it was welcome all the same.

“How did you do it?” Aifric asked. “Get her to confess, I mean.”

“I lied to her,” Carrie said. “Told her we had CCTV footage that proved Robert had come home that night. Told her the whole team was working hard to track down other evidence. That they’d found a blond hair on Laura’s body.”

“And that was all it took?”

“Not exactly.”

They walked on for a moment. Carrie took a deep breath, enjoying the chill freshness of the air in her lungs. She felt lighter, freer than she could remember feeling in a long time.