‘It was a brutal rape, Guv,’ Bryant offered.

‘I know that.’ She’d read the reports and didn’t need a history lesson. The horrific injuries sustained by his victim had sickened her. Would she shed tears for his loss as a human being? No chance. Would she allow her personal feelings to affect the way she handled the case? Same response. ‘Look folks, he served his time, minimal as it was, and hasn’t blipped on the radar since. Allan Harris isn’t Gandhi and we don’t get to pick our victim. Got it?’

‘Yes, Guv.’

‘Dawson, go talk to taxi drivers, bus drivers, dog walkers and the owner of the pub. See if there was anyone who was particularly vocal about their dislike for Harris. And take Stacey with you, she could do with some air.’

Stacey was truly gifted in I.T. and had always supported the team from behind a computer screen. It was time to expose her to a little more of the outside world. The fact that Stacey looked just a little bit anxious proved to Kim she was making the right call.

Wood and Dawson rose and headed towards the door.

Dawson hung back. ‘Umm … Guv, just wanted to apologise for my crack about sleep.’

‘If I thought you meant it you’d already be on your way home.’

He nodded his understanding and headed out. Dawson was a good detective, but Kim expected more than good. She pushed them hard, believing it made them better officers. Police work didn’t come with a clock card, and any of her team who wanted nothing more than a job could piss off to McDonalds and flip burgers all day.

Bryant waited until they were out of earshot. ‘Don’t we make a good team? Your cool intelligence, my warm demeanour. Your dispassionate analysis, my ability to play nice. Your brains, my beauty.’

Kim grunted. ‘Come on, gorgeous, our press awaits.’

Kim hadn’t called a press conference. She hadn’t needed to. They’d been arriving since four in the morning.

She took a deep breath and nodded before pushing open the double doors.

Reporters and photographers stood in huddles. She recognised a few of the locals from the Express and Star and the free papers. A Central News reporter and a BBC Midlands Today cameraman were sharing something on their mobile phones. A Sky News correspondent was busy texting.

‘Okay, gather round,’ Kim shouted. A bouquet of microphones appeared before her face and tape recorders were activated and thrust forward. God, she hated this.

She nodded at the expectant faces. ‘I’ll just hand you over to DS Bryant who will give you the details so far.’

Kim stood to the side. If Bryant was bewildered by her sudden deference he hid it well and immediately offered his sympathies to the family.

Yeah, bet Woody’s stress ball’s seeing some action now, Kim thought.

‘… Midlands Police Force will do everything within its power to bring this perpetrator to justice. Thank you for your time.’

Kim headed towards the car and Bryant followed.

‘Thanks for that, Guv,’ he grumbled, throwing a Classic Bike magazine onto the back seat.

‘Handled like a true professional, Bryant.’

‘You know Woody is gonna kill you for …’

‘Got the address?’

‘Back to the island at the bottom of Thorns Road but take a left onto Caledonia.’

‘Thanks, TomTom.’

‘Just for info, Guv. I know you didn’t bother going home last night.’

Kim said nothing.

‘About the only thing that does live in your office is a change of clothes and some toiletries.’

‘Gold star, Sherlock.’

‘Added to the fact that your mileage is the same as when we parked up last night.’

‘What the hell are you, a walking tachograph?’

‘No, I’m a detective. I notice things.’

‘Well, focus your efforts on this case and leave me the hell alone.’

He was right, of course, which narked her all the more.

‘I think you need a reason to go home at night.’

‘Bryant …’ she warned. It was true that he could push her further than anyone else could. But not that far.

She continued the drive in silence, right up until a laboured sigh escaped from her partner’s lips.

‘What is it, Bryant?’

He sighed. ‘I’m not sure how we’re gonna convey any sincere sympathy to Harris’s mother when we get there.’

Kim frowned. ‘Why do you say that?’

Bryant continued to stare out of the window. ‘Well, isn’t it obvious?’

‘Not to me.’

‘With what he did to that girl …’

Bryant stopped speaking as she hit the brakes and turned left onto a pub car park.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Okay, get it out now.’

He looked away. ‘I didn’t say anything in front of the others but my daughter is a similar age as that girl was when he raped her.’

‘I get that but we don’t have the luxury of investigating murders of the righteous alone.’

He looked at her. ‘But how can we offer the same level of passion for that piece of shit?’

Kim did not like the direction of this conversation. ‘Because it’s your job, Bryant. You did not sign any agreement stating that you would only protect the rights of the people you feel are worthy. It’s the law itself we uphold and that law applies to everyone.’

His eyes searched hers. ‘But can you really, knowing what you know, commit yourself without prejudice?’

She didn’t flinch. ‘Yes, I can. And I fully expect the same from you.’

He bit the skin on one of his knuckles.

The air was charged between them. There were few times she’d had to pull Bryant into line and it wasn’t an easy thing for her to do. But their friendship could stand it. She hoped.

She stared ahead, her voice low. ‘Bryant, I expect nothing less than total professionalism when we go into that house. If you can’t give me that then I would suggest you remain in the car.’

She knew that was harsh but she would not tolerate any display of his personal feelings about the victim.

He didn’t hesitate. ‘Of course.’

The fact that she would take the necessary action if he defied her instruction was known to both of them. Friendship or not.

She put the car into gear and pulled away.

Sensibly he remained silent until they reached the island at the bottom of Thorns Road. On both sides were family dwellings that she guessed to be two bedrooms, each with a driveway just long enough to hold a family-sized car.

Bryant told her to stop in front of number twenty-three.

The house sat approximately fifty feet from the end of the alley where Harris was murdered.

Bryant slammed the car door. ‘Jesus, another fifteen seconds and he’d have been home.’

The front garden was in the process of being slabbed. Mounds of grass had been crudely dug out, leaving a tufty, pock-marked surface. A box porch jutted from the front of the property, which was straight if Kim tilted her head slightly to the left. Every window was suffocated by net curtains and a small glass pane upstairs had a crack in the lower left-hand corner.

Bryant used his knuckle to rap three short taps to the door. It was opened by a female family liaison officer dressed in sweatshirt and jeans.

‘She’s quite frail, hasn’t stopped crying yet.’

Kim squeezed past her and entered the lounge. Stairs led out of the room to the upper level. Brown and orange swirls covered every surface except the beige velour corner suite that dominated the room.

The dog that had sat beside the body sauntered towards her wagging its tail. His collar of white fur still held dried brown spatters of his owner’s blood.

She ignored the animal and continued to the rear of the small house. She found the elderly female sitting in a comfortable rocker in the dining kitchen that stretched the width of the small house.

Kim introduced herself as Bryant materialised beside her. He took the lady’s hand.

‘Mrs Harris, my name is DS Bryant and firstly I’d like to offer our condolences for your loss.’ He held onto the gnarled bones for a few seconds then placed the hand gently back in her lap.