‘It’s up to you what you do with your second chance now,’ she said.

Jessica was wondering whether the rapid switch in Martin’s mood was something that should worry her as the revs of the engine dropped. The vehicle was slowing, presumably because they had reached the garage where they were swapping back into the car. As she watched Martin nodding gently in the dim light, she thought the media attention could be the least of her worries.

Reynolds parked the car outside Martin’s house and switched off the engine. The journey from the petrol station to Manchester had been an almost silent affair although, somehow, their plan had worked and none of the assembled media had followed them. Martin and the probation officer opened the rear doors as Jessica opened the one on the passenger’s side. Together with the inspector, they all walked towards Martin’s house.

The man’s property was on a tight maze of roads just south of Crowcroft Park, barely a mile away from Longsight Police Station. On one side of the road was a long row of dark red-brick terraced houses but the homes on the opposite side were semi-detached and had been built in a different era. An empty driveway ran along the side of Martin’s house but the tarmac was beginning to crack and chunks of it had been swept to the side. As he opened a small metal gate, Jessica looked to her left where a scruffy paved area was becoming overrun with weeds growing in the gaps between the slabs.

Before Martin could knock on his own front door, someone opened it. Jessica knew Ryan Chadwick was eighteen but he looked a year or two younger. He was thin with short spiky blond hair and was wearing a pair of jeans with holes in the knees and a hooded top. Ryan reached forward and pulled his father towards him into an embrace. As they held each other, Jessica watched the younger man’s eyes stare over his dad’s shoulder, darting from Reynolds to the probation officer before fixing on her. They may have been blue but, in the light, looked grey and had a piercing, steely quality to them. Jessica suppressed a shiver as Ryan watched her before he eventually released his father.

‘Welcome home,’ Ryan said, turning to lead them into the house.

As the younger man went towards the rear of the house to make tea, Martin took them into a living room with wooden floorboards where the varnish had long since started to rub off. From the smell, it seemed as if the walls had been repainted recently but Jessica guessed the rest of the furniture was exactly as it had been seven years ago. A cream-coloured sofa with a faded pink pattern was pushed towards the wall facing them, with an armchair in a matching pattern opposite the bay window. A large mirror hung on the wall above the sofa and, aside from a low coffee table and television, the room was otherwise empty and felt cold.

The probation officer opened his briefcase and set down some papers on the table as Jessica and Reynolds sat on the sofa. The officer talked Martin through some formalities regarding when they would have to meet and handed over some contact numbers. He didn’t seem too keen on hanging around and was packing up his papers when Ryan returned with five mugs of tea. Martin showed the officer out as Ryan put the cups on the table and then sat cross-legged on the floor leaning up against the wall. Jessica could feel him staring at her but refused to meet his eyes, instead reaching forward and taking one of the teas from the table, cradling it in her hand.

A few moments after the front door closed, Martin returned, picking up a mug and settling in his armchair.

‘We just wanted to make sure you were happy with everything before we left,’ Reynolds said. ‘I know we have spoken briefly about the recent media coverage but you should know we haven’t had any specific threats made towards you.’

Ryan snorted. ‘Didn’t you see that stuff in the paper?’

Martin shushed his son. ‘I appreciate you coming around,’ he said, addressing the two officers and sounding sincere.

Jessica sipped her tea before replying. ‘I’ll leave you my direct number but you’ve also got the number for the station and, of course, you should call 999 if you feel unsafe.’

Martin leant back in his chair and smiled gently. His earlier tears seemed long gone and he had reverted to the gentle fatherly type. ‘You didn’t have to go to all this trouble.’

Reynolds picked up one of the full mugs from the table. ‘Are you likely to be alone much? Obviously that’s not a problem, it would just help us to know.’

Martin scratched his head and ran his hand through his hair. It was the second time Jessica had noticed him do it and it appeared to be some sort of nervous reaction.

‘I’m not sure,’ he replied. ‘Ryan goes to college a few times a week and works at a local garage. I’d quite like to get myself a job but I’m not really sure how things like that will work. The probation guy told me we’ll talk about it at our first session. I think being out here is going to take a bit of getting used to.’

The man was interrupted by a clatter of crockery as Ryan loudly put his mug down on the floor. Jessica had been deliberately ignoring him, feeling his stare but not acknowledging it. As she turned to look at him, she could see the fire in his eyes. Their colour hadn’t changed since he moved indoors – grey, focused on Jessica, and furious. ‘This is utter shite,’ he spat. ‘You read what was in the paper. Why haven’t you arrested this Thompson clown? Are you going to wait until he’s actually done something?’

Martin started to intervene but Jessica spoke over him, meeting Ryan’s eyes. ‘We saw what was in the paper and officers have been to speak to Mr Thompson. He says he was misquoted in the article and that he didn’t threaten your father.’

‘And you believe him?’

Jessica could see the venom in Ryan. Whereas his father sat passively and – at least from what she’d observed – let his emotions overflow through tears and remorse, his son expressed himself through anger. She said nothing at first, watching the teenager’s fists ball and arm muscles tense.

Jessica held his gaze. ‘I think you should calm down.’

She knew that telling people to calm down was frequently one of the biggest causes of people actually flaring up. The policy of certain forces was to avoid using the words because of the negative effect they could have on people, especially those who were drunk. Jessica didn’t for one minute think Ryan was affected by drink but she wanted to see how he would respond. She felt the inspector next to her shuffle uncomfortably and wondered if he knew why she had said what she had. On the floor, Ryan’s back straightened, his eyes narrowing. His fists were still clenched tightly, his lips thin.

Just as Jessica was wondering what the teenager might say, Martin spoke. ‘It’s okay, Ry. They’re trying their best.’

Reynolds stood quickly and awkwardly, placing his empty mug on the table. It was clearly an indication they should go. Jessica stood too, turning to face Martin.

She reached into the pocket of her jacket and handed him one of her business cards. ‘Call me any time of day or night if you have a problem but always dial 999 first if it’s an emergency.’

Martin took the card and stood, before ushering the two officers into the hallway. ‘Thanks again for coming,’ he said, closing the door that separated the living room from the rest of the house. He lowered his voice. ‘Sorry about Ryan. He’s really not a bad lad; he’s just not had his dad around for all this time. I don’t know everything but some of the things that happened to him in care . . .’

He didn’t finish his sentence but didn’t need to. With Ryan’s aggression, it was easy to forget he hadn’t had much of a life for the past few years. That didn’t stop Jessica thinking she might need to keep an eye on him.