‘By the time we get back to HQ, you’ll owe it to me anyway. Get in.’

‘OK,’ Steve says, swinging himself into the car. ‘Might as well use it up now. So if the da wants to make up for years of not being there to protect Aislinn, and he doesn’t like the cut of Rory—’

‘Sweet fuck,’ I say, starting the Kadett and listening to it bitch about being woken up. ‘What if I pay you not to do this shite? Would that work?’

‘You should definitely give it a go. I take cheques.’

‘Do you take Snickers bars? Because at least you shut your gob when you’re eating.’

‘Ah, lovely,’ Steve says happily. ‘I’ll be good.’ I find the Snickers bar in my satchel and toss it into his lap, and he settles down to demolish it.

He doesn’t look like he’s thinking about what an inspiration I am, or what a tragic story. I know Steve is nowhere near the simple freckle-faced kid he plays on TV, but still: he looks like he’s thinking about chocolate.

‘What?’ he demands, through a mouthful.

‘Nothing,’ I say. ‘The bit of silence suits you, is all,’ and I catch myself grinning as I swing the car into the flow of traffic.

Chapter 8

Chapter 8

We get back to an incident room full of nothing. Breslin is still out, presumably talking to Rory’s KAs; the floaters come in and out, fetching more nothing and dumping it on our big fancy desk. Stanton and Deasy turned up nothing at Aislinn’s work, no rumours of an affair with the boss or anyone else, no unrequited crushes either way, no office feuds, no stalkery clients. Meehan comes back from checking Rory’s route home to report that his times match the CCTV footage, meaning Rory didn’t take any major detours between Aislinn’s house and the last time he was caught on camera – although we’ve got no way of confirming what time he got home or what he did afterwards, so we can’t rule out a last-minute detour or a late-night excursion. Gaffney is running Aislinn’s KAs through the system, which spits out a load of traffic tickets, a couple of minor drug possession charges and one guy who smashed his brother’s windscreen with a Hoover. Reilly slouches in with more CCTV footage and a flat stare at me, settles down to watch some telly and occasionally lets out a noise halfway between a cough and a roar to remind us that he’s here and he’s bored.