‘You brought Waffles!’ he said as he reached under the counter to press the door release. He came through the internal door and met us in the corridor. ‘Can I pat him?’ he asked.

‘Sure you can,’ I said, remembering the first time he’d met Waffles. Randall had moved too quickly towards us and Waffles had let him know the danger in doing that. Luckily, it had been a warning growl rather than a bite. I scratched Waffles behind the ears and Randall leaned down to pat him. Waffles lapped it up like a prince.

‘I thought you’d left for the day,’ Randall said, casting a glance at my running clothes.

‘Me too. Looks like we were both wrong. I just need to do something in my office.’

I headed down the corridor to the CIB office, Waffles at my heel. As I leaned on the doorhandle, flicking through my keys, I realised it wasn’t locked. Wozza must’ve come back too, I thought—even though he’d listed a million kid-related things he had planned for the afternoon for his daughters now that the school holidays had started.

There was a man bending over my desk, rifling through the pages of the sexual assault file. I had a copy of Meg’s statement, Pete’s victim and the other four. And the polaroids. Statements that had been stacked neatly were now fanned. Waffles barked. One bark. Deep. Baritone. The man started and turned around.

Bill Wheeler.

What the hell was Wheels doing going through my desk?

I considered my options and went with silence. Silent expectation. I crossed my arms in front of me. Waffles stood by my side, sensing my mood. Normally he would sit, settle and lean against my leg, but not today. We both had our power stance on.

Wheels stumbled for words. Face red. Caught in the act. I could almost hear the clunking and grinding as his brain scrambled for an excuse.

‘Er … Um … I’m looking for the bail application on Jack Barratt,’ he said finally.

We both knew he was lying.

I looked him up and down, pausing before answering. Just so he was clear I knew. ‘It’s on your desk, boss,’ I said. ‘Remember? I gave it to you the other day. You put it in your in-tray.’

Wheels slapped his forehead like he was in a pantomime. ‘Oh, that’s right,’ he said. And then, because he had to restore the balance of power, he straightened up and looked at Waffles. ‘Not sure the rules permit bringing a dog into the office.’

The change in his tone was striking. So was mine.

‘Well, boss, I didn’t expect anyone would be in my office.’

He sniffed. ‘I’ll leave you to it then.’ He brushed past me, leaving a musty smell in his wake.