Porter clenched his fist and thumped his desk twice in triumph. ‘That’s the best news I’ve had in a long time, Reid. How soon till we get it?’

‘Not till tomorrow, sir. A word of warning, though, it’s not going to be a continuous feed.’

‘You mean it’s not always on?’

‘I mean it takes a frame every three seconds, so it’ll be like watching a series of still photos, like old-fashioned CCTV.’

‘Reid, as long as it shows us the Taylor building, that won’t bother me one bit. I’ll take my chances. Good work.’

He caught the tail end of a nervous thank you from Reid as he took the receiver away from his ear. He didn’t want to get his hopes up too much until he saw the footage, but it was about time something swung their way, and he allowed himself a cautious smile.

CHAPTER FIFTEEN

The rain that had fallen for most of the last twenty-four hours stopped just after breakfast in an act of celestial goodwill, and the clouds went from grubby lumps of dirty cotton wool to a cleaner, slightly off-white; nature’s own Fifty Shades of Grey. The road wound into the cemetery and splintered off into a hundred paths leading to a thousand tombstones.

Porter had limited experience of funerals, and he was keen to keep it that way. Over a hundred mourners had gathered to pay their respects to Mike Gibson, including his wife and two sons. Porter had met her four or five times before on work nights out, enough that she recognised him through the blur of tears and gave him a weak smile when he arrived. He hadn’t known what to say to her as he walked past, so settled for a clichéd ‘Sorry for your loss.’ There wasn’t time for much more than that as a relative – Porter guessed her father, from his age – shepherded her towards the chapel, protective arm around her.

Deputy Commissioner Adam Nesbitt was in attendance, moving slowly from handshake to handshake, weaving through the knots of black uniforms. He reminded Porter of a politician working the room. Porter himself merited no more than a nod and a smile before Nesbitt moved on to speak with Superintendent Campbell. Porter didn’t need to be able to lip-read to know he figured in the conversation. Campbell’s not-so-subtle glances in his direction told him all he needed to know. He’d worry about that if and when it came back to bite him.