Steve is still out. I catch some autopilot part of me actually hoping he’ll show up before Rory does – I’ll have to start off the interview with Breslin, what with him bringing me that footage, but I can swap Steve in before we get to the final push; we’ll get a confession off Rory, show that ditzy fool Steve that I was right all along, he’ll apologise and we’ll go for a pint and everything will go back to normal— This is when my brain catches up and remembers that things aren’t going back to normal, not ever again. The incident room lurches, light jumping and stuttering, the hum of the computers rising like sirens.

When I beckon Reilly over to my desk, he doesn’t even bother faking an apology, just puts on a blank pig-face and stares over my shoulder, waiting for me to be done. I was all geared up to take his head off, but looking at that face barely hiding a sneer, all I can think of is Steve: Steve, on that old case years back, getting that key piece of info and pinning it to his lapel instead of bringing it home to the lead D. Reilly makes me sick. I don’t want him ripped to pieces any more; all I want is him out of my sight. When I tell him to go back to the floater pool, his face – sneer slapped right off, raw burn of anger and humiliation rising – doesn’t even give me a drop of satisfaction. The other floaters pretend they’re concentrating on work while he gathers up his stuff and leaves, slamming the door on his way out. Breslin lounges at his desk and watches me, eyes hooded, pen between his teeth, all ready to tell me whether I’ve done the right thing or not. I don’t ask.

The footage shows exactly what Breslin said it did: Rory, wandering around Stoneybatter when he shouldn’t have been. I send Meehan to head over there, pull all the December CCTV footage he can get – there won’t be much left – and start watching. Then I pick out the best shots of Rory, with time stamps, and print them off.

The phone on my desk rings: Bernadette, to say Rory Fallon is downstairs. ‘He’s here,’ I say to Breslin.

‘Let’s do it,’ he says, shoving his chair back. ‘See you later, boys. We’ll bring you back a nice scalp.’