‘What about wounds on Finn’s body?’ he asks Craig.

‘Nothing. No nicks or scratches. Only a few bruises. But nothing substantial that could be used as an argument for self-defence,’ she adds, reading his mind. ‘And apart from that, his medical history is unremarkable.’ Robin pulls into the hospital car park and switches off the engine. ‘See for yourself,’ she says, passing him the file.

She climbs out of the car, giving him a look as she goes. ‘Hang onto it, I have a copy.’

He watches her walk off across the car park, striding confidently. The beauty of not being attached emotionally to the case, he thinks. Then Freya comes to mind. He wonders how she’s getting on with her body in the freezer, working for Josh Smith. Faint jealousy flickers, and he picks up the phone, sending her a quick text. He misses working with her, the to and fro of discussing a case, but he frowns. Baker’s warning echoes in his head. He’s aware she hasn’t been herself this past month or so.

After Jonathan died – and after Amy died – she’d seemed to have picked herself up for a while. Still sad, still grieving, but with a level of relief that he himself had experienced. The case was over. Everything they had done that had broken the law in a myriad of different career-destroying ways was over. Put to bed. And so they’d pootled on. New cases, developing a working relationship with a solid foundation of trust and the secrets between them.

But after Christmas, she was quieter. Less eager to talk to him, to share. They’d spent more time in each other’s company, default dinners and nights in front of the TV rather than active arrangements, but she’d retreated into herself. And this last month her work hasn’t been up to its usual precision. Things were getting missed, paperwork late to be submitted.

He’ll phone her tonight, he resolves, picking up the file in his lap again.

He flicks through the pages of Finn’s medical report, and Craig’s right, there’s nothing interesting. He’s rarely been to the GP. An ear infection a year ago. A vaccination when he went abroad. No mental health issues. Nothing that would indicate a predisposition for what Finn was going through now. And no mention of his alcoholism, surprise, surprise.

He gets out of the car and walks towards the hospital. But his pace is slow. He feels the weight of expectation, knowing that Josie will be looking to him to find a way out of this mess. It feels hopeless. He isn’t in charge, and although Craig has been giving him access, Robin’s sure it’s only to the things she wants him to see. The evidence that will convince him that Finn’s the killer.