‘And, of course, these online messages from trolls are very unfortunate,’ Hawkins said. ‘But this is the kind of thing that happens when you make yourself a public figure.’

‘Make myself a public figure?’ Pip took a step back, to keep the fire away from Hawkins. ‘I didn’t make myself a public figure, Hawkins, that happened because I had to do your job for you. You would’ve been happy to let Sal Singh carry the guilt for killing Andie Bell forever. That’s why everything has happened the way it has. And this person clearly isn’t just someone who’s listened to the podcast, an online troll. They’re close by. They know where I live. This is more than that.’ It was. It was.

‘I understand that’s what you believe,’ Hawkins said, holding up his palms, trying to placate her. ‘And it must be very scary to be an online figure and have strangers think it’s their right to have access to you. To send you hurtful messages. But you must have expected that, on some level? And I know you aren’t the only one to have received hurtful messages from the public because of your podcast. I know Jason Bell has too, after you released season one. He told me in an unofficial capacity; we play tennis sometimes,’ he said in explanation. ‘But, anyway, I’m sorry, I’m just not seeing a clear connection between these online messages and these other incidents.’ He said that last word differently, leaned on it a little too hard so that it came out of his mouth sideways.

He didn’t believe her. Even after everything, Hawkins didn’t believe her. Pip had known this was how it would be, she’d warned Ravi, but faced with it now, in the moment, she couldn’t believe he didn’t believe her, now that she believed herself. And the heat under her skin became something else: the cold, heavy, downward pull of betrayal.

Hawkins lowered the papers to the table. ‘Pip,’ he said, his voice softer, gentler, like how he might talk to a lost child. ‘I think that, after everything you’ve been through and... I truly am sorry for my part in that, that you had to take all this on, alone. But I think you might be seeing a pattern that isn’t here, and it’s completely understandable after everything you’ve been through, that you might see danger around every corner, but...’

She’d thought the same thing about herself not so long ago, and yet his words still felt like a punch to the gut. Why had she allowed herself even a shred of hope that this would go another way? Stupid, stupid.

‘You think I’m making it up,’ she said. It wasn’t a question.

‘No, no, no,’ he said quickly. ‘I think that you are dealing with a lot, and still processing the trauma you went through, and maybe that’s affecting how you are looking at this. You know...’ he paused, pinched the skin on his knuckles, ‘when I first saw someone die in front of me, I wasn’t OK for a long, long time. It was a stabbing victim, young woman. That sort of thing, it stays with you.’ His eyes glistened as he glanced up finally and held Pip’s gaze. ‘Are you getting help? Talking to someone?’

‘I’m talking to you right now,’ Pip said, her voice rising. ‘I was asking you for help. My mistake, I should have known better. It wasn’t so long ago that we were stood in a room just like this and I asked you for help, to find Jamie Reynolds. You said no then too and look where we all are now.’

‘I’m not saying no,’ Hawkins said, a small cough into his balled-up fist. ‘And I am trying to help you, Pip, I really am. But a couple of dead pigeons and a message written on a public pavement... there’s not a lot I can do with that, you must be able to understand that. Of course, if you think you know who might be responsible, we can look into issuing them a PIN –’

‘I don’t know who it is, that’s why I’m here.’

‘OK, OK,’ he said, his words starting loud and ending quiet, as though he were trying to hook on to Pip’s voice and bring it back down too. ‘Well, perhaps you can go away and have a little think of anyone you know who might be responsible for something like this. Anyone who might have a grudge against you or –’

‘You mean a list of enemies?’ Pip gave an amused sniff.

‘No, not enemies. Again, I don’t see anything here that indicates these events are necessarily connected, or that someone is targeting you specifically, or that they wish you harm. But if you have any thoughts on someone you know who might pull something like this, to mess with you, I can certainly look into having a chat with them.’

‘Fantastic,’ Pip barked with an empty laugh. ‘I’m so glad that you’ll look into looking into it.’ She clapped her hands, once, making Hawkins flinch. ‘You know, this is exactly why more than fifty per cent of stalking crimes go unreported, this exact conversation we’ve had here. Congratulations on another episode of excellent police work.’ She darted forward to snatch her papers from the table beside him, the pages ripping at the air between them, cutting the room into his side against hers.

She did have a stalker. And now that she thought it through, maybe this could be it: exactly what she needed. Not Jane Doe, but this. One more case, the right one, and opportunity had handed it to her. The universe might have aligned, for once, in her favour. This stalker could be the one. A case without that suffocating grey area, one with a clear moral right and a clear moral wrong. Someone out there hated her, wanted to hurt her and that made them bad. On the other side was her, and maybe she wasn’t all good, but she couldn’t be all bad. Two opposing sides, as clean as she could hope for. And this time, she was the subject. If she got things wrong again, there would be no collateral, no blood on her hands. Only hers. But if she got it right, maybe this could be the thing to fix her.

It couldn’t hurt to try.

Pip felt a little more room inside her chest as it loosened around her heart, a feeling of resolve steel-cold in her stomach. She welcomed it back like an old friend.

‘Now, Pip, don’t be like that –’ Hawkins said, the words too careful and too soft.

‘I will be however I am,’ she spat, stuffing the papers back into her bag, the angry-wasp sound of her pulling up the zip. ‘And you,’ she stopped to wipe her nose across her sleeve, the breath heavy in her chest, ‘I have you to thank for that too.’ She shouldered her bag, pausing at the door out of Interview Room 3. ‘You know,’ she said, her hand stalling above the handle, ‘Charlie Green taught me one of the most important lessons I’ve ever learned. He told me that, sometimes, justice must be found outside of the law. And he was right.’ She glanced back at Hawkins, his arms wrapping around his chest to protect it from her eyes. ‘But, actually, I think he didn’t go far enough. Maybe justice can only ever be found outside of the law, outside of police stations like this, of people like you who say you understand but you never do.’

Hawkins unwrapped his arms and opened his mouth to answer, but Pip didn’t let him.

‘He was right, Charlie Green,’ she said. ‘And I hope you never find him.’

‘Pip.’ There was a bite to Hawkins’ voice now, a hard edge that she’d goaded to the surface. ‘That’s not helpf—’

‘Oh, and,’ she cut him off, her fingers gripping the handle too hard, like she might just bend the metal, leave her prints in it forever, ‘do me a favour. If I disappear, don’t look for me. Don’t even bother.’