‘While I am not at liberty to share the identity of the man at this time, I am pleased to confirm that someone has been arrested in relation to the murder of Dr Simon Sharp and is currently helping us with our enquiries.’

‘Helping, my arse,’ Mina observes next to her. ‘No doubt in their minds, they’ve got their man.’

The coverage has cut to a video of Simon Sharp: a hastily knocked-together montage, his handsome face smiling out of the screen in slow motion, while sad music plays. Freya scowls. Finn has no chance of a fair trial if this is how the media are pitching it.

She checks her mobile again. No reply from Robin; he must be distraught.

‘Any progress?’ Josh asks, coming up behind them.

Freya flicks her screen back to the search. There aren’t many homeless shelters in the area and she has contacted them all, sending round photographs of their John Doe and his identifying marks.

‘Nothing so far,’ she directs back.

‘Can we put an appeal out on the news?’ Mina asks.

‘Awful way to find out your loved one is dead,’ Josh replies. He sits down in the seat next to them, stretching his arms above his head; Freya gets a nice waft of something manly, an aftershave she likes. ‘But better than never finding out at all,’ he adds, and she has to agree with him. ‘Let’s wait to hear first.’

Freya flicks to one of the photographs of the victim’s tattoos, and as she does so, Josh leans forward.

‘Go back,’ he says.

She moves away from the rose surrounded with thorns on his upper arm, to his hand, where five small dots laid out like a dice mark the space between his thumb and first finger.

‘You’ve tried searching the PNC for his tattoos?’ Josh asks.

Freya nods. ‘No matches.’

‘How about contacting the prisons directly?’ He taps the image on the screen. ‘These dots often represent time inside. Start with Winchester, see where you end up.’

Freya’s annoyed with herself. She should have realised that; she’s really not operating on all cylinders at the moment. ‘Yes, Sarge,’ she says.

‘Mina – keep going with the CCTV. I want those boys’ movements on tape.’

‘Yes, Sarge,’ Mina replies, with a grin.

‘I’ll go and see the parents and check if they confirm their stories.’ He gets up, then turns round, taking in their smirking faces. ‘And enough of the sarcasm,’ he grumbles.

‘Yes, Sarge,’ they chorus in unison.

The day progresses slowly, work monotonous for all. Freya makes call after call to HMP Winchester, shunted round from department to department.

‘You need the probation service,’ the voice at the other end says. ‘If he’s been released.’

‘But that’s where I started!’ Freya cries out in frustration.

‘Sorry.’ She can almost hear the indifference at the other end of the phone. ‘Can’t help.’