‘Face it, Miley, you’re wanted.’ She winked.

Adrian looked at Imogen, who then nodded over to Denise Ferguson, the duty sergeant.

‘Didn’t you say you’d help her out with booking tonight?’

‘Oh, shit.’ He remembered promising something like that. He guessed being stuck behind the front desk processing drunks on a Saturday night was better than being subjected to dating shows on TV, by yourself, because you live alone.

Valentine’s Day was not typically the quietest of nights in the station. Even if you ignored all the drunken roadside domestic disputes and the minor pub brawls because someone looked at someone else’s woman the wrong way, nationally it was still a night that saw a statistically significant increase in crime. Petty criminals taking advantage of the fact that most couples were out enjoying a romantic meal or a nice walk meant that break-ins and car theft were higher on this night than most others. Fingers crossed tonight would be a slow one.

‘I’m not in until Tuesday now. I’ve got a couple of personal days,’ Imogen said.

Adrian wasn’t sure what she was getting at. Was she inviting him over? Over the last few weeks they had made a regular habit of staying over at each other’s houses, more as a comfort than anything else. Both happy to be alone, but still not totally OK with being lonely. They would sleep in the same bed together; it had become comforting, if a little strange. Almost platonic, but not quite. There was a definite undertone to what they were doing, but it had been a little over six months since the woman Adrian was seeing, the woman he was falling for, had been taken from him violently. It had been even less time since Imogen had ended her intense relationship with an ex-con. Neither of them particularly relished the idea of dating anyone right now, but still, they were growing closer. Despite that, Imogen hadn’t yet spoken to Adrian about her mother’s death, and her funeral was on Monday – Adrian kept wondering whether she wanted him to go with her.

‘Have you met the new DI yet?’ he asked, changing the subject. If she wanted him there she would ask. He hoped.

‘No, who is it?’

‘Someone who’s transferred in.’

‘Not from Plymouth, I hope,’ Imogen said quickly, shuddering at the thought of her old job.

‘No, someone from the DCI’s old area. I think they wanted an outsider, someone who wasn’t caught up in any of the local shit,’ Adrian reassured her. Imogen herself had transferred from Plymouth under a bit of a black cloud and so he knew she wouldn’t appreciate working with any of her former colleagues.

‘Yet.’

‘Apparently she personally endorsed his transfer. The DCI has worked out all right. Maybe it’s a good move.’

‘Him? Is he hot?’

‘Why are you asking me?’

‘You can’t objectively say whether a man is attractive? Are you worried that I might think …’

‘Don’t finish that sentence. His face is very symmetrical, which suggests he is probably quite good-looking.’ Adrian smiled at her.