Jessica zoned out of the conversation, continuing to watch the crowd. She didn’t fancy coming back here every night until something happened. Six separate pickpocket cases in five weeks. It wasn’t the crime of the century but Jessica liked being out and doing something, instead of cooped up in her office at the station, filling in paperwork, signing things off and generally boring herself. DCI Jack Cole had given her the same shrug she’d seen a lot recently when she had suggested going to the train station with Adam. If she wanted to do something pro-active in her spare time then so be it.

‘Can you see the board from here?’ Adam asked.

‘Why wouldn’t I be able to?’

‘Because it was only a couple of months ago some bloke was lasering your eyes. I didn’t know if it had any other effects.’

‘Like what?’

Adam mumbled something under his breath but he must really be bored if he was back to talking about her eyes again. Jessica had eventually gone for laser eye treatment, having spent months constantly losing her glasses. At the time, he’d gone on about how it would give her superpowers – some sort of laser projectile out of Star Wars, Star Trek or some other geeky thing she couldn’t care less about. He really was a nerd sometimes. If someone had told her sixteen-year-old self she was going to end up engaged to a person who, in most circumstances, would’ve been suitable for an intimate relationship only with his own hand then she would’ve told them to sod off. She tried to remember the name of the boy she lusted after in college; the one whose name she wrote in love hearts and blathered on to Caroline about over cheap cider. Was it Jez? Jeremy? Had there ever been anyone fanciable called Jeremy? She couldn’t remember. Maybe it was Jeff? No, that was worse than Jeremy. Definitely a J in there somewhere.

Ding-dong: ‘For security reasons, passengers are reminded to keep their bags with them at all times.’

The voice reverberated around the station again, as Jessica wondered if anyone had ever kept hold of a bag because of it.

Her mind was wandering annoyingly from the crowd she was meant to be watching back towards work, as ever. Adam took her by surprise as he leant in and spoke softly: ‘What are we going to do later?’

‘I’m not keeping the heels on just for you, if that’s what you’re asking.’

He stifled a smile, mind firmly read.

‘We need to get some milk,’ Jessica added. ‘There’s that twenty-four-hour place on the way home. Hopefully we’ll hit that sweet spot where all the sandwiches and meat have been reduced but before everyone else piles in and only leaves the egg ones.’

Adam sniggered. ‘What rock-and-roll lifestyles we live: a night out at the train station and reduced-price sandwiches on the way home.’

‘You won’t be moaning if we get a reduced pack of cookies or muffins.’

Adam started to reply but his words dissolved into a saliva-filled ‘Mmmm’.

So easy to please.

A man in a suit hurried past, phone clamped to his ear, other hand readjusting his crotch. ‘Who authorised twenty per cent?’ he said too loudly. ‘I’m not going out to Stockholm to sort it again.’ He glanced up to see Jessica watching him, finishing playing with himself and scowling at the same time: a piece of multitasking she wouldn’t have thought him capable of. He told whoever he was moaning to that he’d call them back and then stomped into the nearby coffee shop.

Jessica was just thinking about how unsociable mobile phones made everyone when she felt hers begin to vibrate in her bag. With Adam standing next to her, it meant there were only two candidates – either her mother or someone from the station. If not them, then someone trying to sell her any number of financial products she definitely didn’t want.

She fumbled in the bag, tugging the phone out before realising that the contents were a lot less compacted than when she’d left the house.

‘Something wrong?’ Adam asked, as Jessica emptied her bag onto the top of a newspaper dispenser.

‘Shite.’

‘What?’

‘Someone’s nicked my purse.’

2

She may have lost her wallet but Jessica eventually answered her phone on the third ring. There must have been a quiz show on television distracting her mother because it wasn’t her. Jessica had left a pair of jeans, warm top and sensible shoes on the back seat of the car and got changed in the shadows of the multi-storey car park. Poor old Adam had been ditched for work again, left to catch the bus or tram home. One day she would make it all up to him. Or, at the very least, she would keep telling herself that.

With the rush-hour traffic long gone, Jessica headed along Oxford Street, over the river and into Salford. As she passed the university buildings and made the turn into Peel Park, the familiar blue haze lit up the car park, spinning blue bulbs on top of police cars eating into the darkness and signalling some poor sod hadn’t had a good day. Aside from a breeze whipping off the water and through the park, the evening was surprisingly mild. Jessica headed towards the group of silhouettes massing close to one of the bridges which crossed the River Irwell. Cigarette smoke and northern accents drifted into the air, joined by the sound of activity somewhere close to the river.

The shadows dissolved into a handful of uniformed officers, with the cigarette smoke coming from a man muttering to himself in an Eastern European-sounding accent. In the mix of the orange glow from the street lights above and the blue rotating lights of the police cars, the scene looked like the type of disco where no one ended up going home alone.

One of the detective constables was taking notes but stopped to peer up as Jessica arrived. ‘I thought you’d knocked off for the day,’ he said.

Jessica shrugged – it was no wonder she always got the call: she was always the one stupid enough to drop everything and attend. ‘They told me there was a body,’ she said.

The DC nodded backwards. ‘Scene of Crime are there now.’ With a slight sideways motion, he indicated the man with the cigarette. ‘This is Pavel. He found the body.’

Jessica looked the man up and down: muddy jeans, walking boots, and a thin dark jacket. His eyes darted sideways catching the orange light, his pointed nose and stubbly chin making him look like a startled rabbit.

‘Kto?’ he said, his accent sounding thicker than before.

Jessica stepped a few metres away, gesturing for the officer to join her. ‘How’s his English?’

‘Better than my Polish.’

‘What did he say?’

The DC lowered his voice, even though they couldn’t be overheard. ‘He does agency work for some cleaning company in the city. A few people called in sick, so they’ve been behind all day. There’s a university rowing clubhouse down by the river they’re contracted to do once a week – but he only got here as it was getting dark. He was mumbling something about striking bin men and everything being messed up.’

‘What did he find?’

‘You’re better off seeing for yourself. SOCO are going to be there for a while.’

Jessica nodded, heading past the officers, down a slope towards the water’s edge. Away from the blue and orange lights, the moon gave the river an unearthly glow, black ripples serenely rolling towards the bank. Jessica watched them for a few moments, breathing the night air, knowing this was going to be another late one, followed by an early morning tomorrow and then who knew what else. She held the cool air in her lungs and then turned to face the large building behind her. At its front was an elaborate arched doorway, with wooden decking sloping down towards the water. Three boat landings stretched into the water, waves lapping at the struts that plunged into the dark depths. The whitewashed facade had some sort of cross-paddle logo painted on it that she couldn’t entirely make out in the dim light.