Cole coughed. ‘I’m not saying anything – that’s for you to figure out.’

Jessica had to think carefully about what to say next but there was no easy way. ‘It sounds like we’re fitting him up for this.’

For a few moments, it was as if everything had stopped. Archie came to a halt at a set of traffic lights and his head flicked towards her. Jessica felt a tingle along her back in the moment of silence. The investigation into events surrounding the arrest and conviction of the Stretford Slasher twenty-five years ago was still going on, with the report due in the new year. ‘Fitted up’ were two words they simply didn’t use together.

‘You’re on very thin ice, Inspector.’

‘Sir, I—’

‘You nothing. Do not continue to question the decisions that are made around here. You’ve been on a loose chain for a very long time – something I blame myself for. If the message hasn’t yet got through then I’ll make myself very clear: this is the end of the road for not doing things properly. Now do your job and get the rest of the evidence against Holden Wyatt.’

The reply stuck in Jessica’s throat before she finally coughed it out. By the time she’d mumbled an apology she didn’t feel was deserved, he had already hung up.

Another say-nothing ride.

Back at the station, it was almost the end of shift and Jessica didn’t want to talk to anyone anyway. She mumbled a ‘see you tomorrow’ to Archie, strode through to her office, grabbed her stuff, and then marched back out again, ignoring Fat Pat complaining that she hadn’t yet signed something she was supposed to.

She turned the radio off in her car and drove home in the usual stop-start-stop-stop-stop-stop-stop-stop-stop-start traffic, alone with her thoughts. For once, the commute didn’t bother her because she didn’t feel anything. Cole had been her friend – without him she wouldn’t be at work. Now he was just another colleague. Something really had changed.

Slowly she manoeuvred her way back to Swinton as if on autopilot, remembering nothing of the journey. She pulled onto the driveway of the house she shared with Adam at the same time as the sun dipped over the horizon for the day. The area was bathed in a strange mix of daylight and night, orange street lights and white headlamps, and yet Jessica was out of the car, key in hand, reaching for the front door before she noticed Bex sitting on her doorstep, subdued smile on her face.

‘You did say you had a spare room . . .’

16

For a young woman thinner than most children, Bex really could eat. In the yellowy glow of Jessica’s kitchen, the teenager wolfed down anything put in front of her. Her black hair was balled underneath a woollen bobble hat, with only a few wisps dangling around her face. Jessica was struck by how pale the girl was, even though there were no obvious signs she was ill in any way other than being under-nourished. Bex kept her canvas rucksack underneath her feet protectively, not wanting to take her fleece off either. Jessica understood that living on the streets meant that looking after your possessions was imperative, so it was no real surprise.

‘Do you want anything else?’ Jessica asked, having already turned six slices of bread into cheese and pickle toasties, which Bex had topped off with two bags of cheesy Wotsits (Adam’s), a pork pie (Adam’s), a sausage roll (Adam’s), half a packet of sliced ham (theirs), a bowl of Coco Pops (Adam’s), a beef and tomato Pot Noodle (hers, although there were loads more), an apple (Adam’s), two nectarines (Adam’s) and half a box of fish fingers (theirs).

Jessica half-hoped Bex hadn’t spotted the Cadbury’s caramel bars (Jessica’s), chocolate biscuits (Jessica’s), non-chocolate biscuits (Jessica’s), Chunky Monkey Ben & Jerry’s (Jessica’s), or bag of doughnuts shoved to the back of the bread bin (Jessica’s), and might instead go for the low-fat, low-taste, girly yoghurts in the door of the fridge (Adam’s).

Bex fiddled with her nose ring and patted her tiny frame which had defeated all physiological laws by packing so much into it. ‘Maybe in a bit?’

She grinned and it changed everything about her, even if it didn’t seem to come entirely naturally.

‘If you’ve got any dirty clothes, I can put a wash on?’ Jessica said.

Bex glanced away from her towards the door, shaking her head. ‘I shouldn’t have come . . .’

‘I wouldn’t have given you my address if you weren’t welcome. We can get the lezzer stuff out of the way later.’

They caught each other’s gaze and Jessica dissolved into a childish fit of giggles. Bex smiled but there were delicate dimples in her cheeks, matching the one in her chin and offering a wonderful sense of fun. That was until she stopped grinning; then her eyes showed her youth and vulnerability.

‘Are you really a police officer?’ she asked.

‘Yes.’

‘You don’t seem like one.’

‘What do you think a police officer should be like?’

‘The ones out at night are usually right twats.’

A perfectly accurate description of a select few of Jessica’s colleagues.

‘Some of us are normal people.’

Jessica took the dirty plates and moved them to the sink (Adam’s). ‘Do you want the tour?’

‘I only need a place for tonight. Last night was really cold and—’

‘Stay for as long as you want. It’s almost winter and we live in the north. The weather’s always shite anyway.’

Bex didn’t reply but she hoiked her backpack over her shoulders as Jessica led them into the living room. ‘This is where we waste our lives in front of the TV.’

‘We?’

‘My boyfriend and me. Well, fiancé. Well, sort of, it’s complicated.’

Bex’s eyes darted left to right and she took a step backwards towards the hallway. ‘I, er, didn’t realise.’

‘It’s fine, why would you?’ Bex mumbled something about not wanting to be a burden but Jessica cut across her. ‘Honestly, it’s fine. He’s called Adam. He’s cool, he’s normal. Well, he’s into sci-fi but everyone seems to be nowadays. At least it’s not slasher porn.’

Jessica tried to make a joke of it but Bex was backing further out of the room and Jessica had to stride quickly to catch her before she was at the door. She put a hand on the teenager’s shoulder but the girl flinched away.

‘Sorry,’ Jessica said.

‘It’s fine; I think I should go.’

‘You don’t have to. Honestly, Adam’s fine – no one’s going to harm you here.’

‘I know, I—’

‘Bex, I’m a police officer – do you really think I’d be living with some nutter? I’ve got enough of them at work.’

Jessica placed her hands on the girl’s shoulders again and this time Bex didn’t flinch. Slowly she tilted her head upwards until they were looking at each other. ‘Okay.’

‘Shall we have a look around upstairs?’

‘All right.’

Jessica first showed her the bedroom she shared with Adam and even got a smile as Bex asked why one half was strewn with clothes, shoes, books, a television remote control and an empty plate while the other was spotless. Jessica’s reasoning was identical to the explanation she had given her mother after being scolded.

1) The bed wasn’t quite in the centre of the room, which created a subtle optical illusion that she and Adam had equal space. The truth was that he had approximately four centimetres more space on his side of the bed, which, multiplied by the length of the room, meant that she had correspondingly less room to store her stuff.

2) Adam wore, essentially, the same clothes to work as he wore around the house, meaning he had far fewer items to pack away. She, on the other hand, needed an increasingly more complex choice of clothing to accommodate many different scenarios, meaning there was no sensible way she could be expected to neatly fold, or hang, everything she owned.