He moves on to the next, and it’s dull. Robin can see it’s footage from the outside of the van during the storm. He glances down at the report that DC Grey put together describing the video, listing the events seen on screen. Everything ties up with the reports from that night. The rain begins. At 00:32 Justin White leaves, then the wind intensifies and the storm escalates. It’s chaos out there; Robin can see the weather conditions that Justin had described in his interview: the wind, flashes of lightning, furious rain, all beating down on the car park. It’s bedlam. The weather subsides, gently, steadily. Then nothing happens until 03:38 when Justin White returns and calls the police.

So far, so expected.

But the last video makes a lump catch in Robin’s throat.

It’s a more informal film, recorded on a handheld camera. It’s just Finn and Sharp in the van, sat by the table, the night dark, the storm beginning. Sharp is smiling, holding a large bottle of champagne. The camera is placed down next to them and Finn comes into shot, holding out a mug to be filled by Sharp. The two put their arms round each other and smile into the camera, chinking their mugs together in celebration. This is the Finn that Robin knew. Enjoying the moment, the pinnacle of his professional career. And these two are happy. There is no animosity between them, no reluctance. On this video, they look like good friends.

Robin looks at the timestamp: 01:05. Just before the eye of the storm hit. He shakes his head. So in the two hours after this video was taken, Sharp was killed.

He glances at the time – it’s way past visiting hours at the hospital now, and Robin feels the guilt. He knows he should have gone there to check on Finn, but he was avoiding Josie. He needs to apologise, but he hasn’t yet mustered the energy. And he can’t take another showdown. Or at the very least, her disappointed silence.

He shuts the laptop lid angrily, and as he does so, he hears a knock on the door. He gets up and answers it, smiling when he sees his brother-in-law.

Liam sighs when he sees him. ‘Why don’t you answer your bloody phone, Robin?’

‘Sorry, I’ve been busy. But if I’d known you’d come round looking like this…’

Robin moves out of the way, as Liam pushes past him into the hallway, dragging a large racing bike behind him. He’s head-to-toe in bright orange Lycra, a bike helmet on his head. Liam’s walking oddly, and once the bike is leaning against the wall, he sits down at the bottom of the stairs to take off his cleats.