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I thought back to that evening and how Danielle had sung happy birthday to me. She had been very sweet. It was touching; she had bothered to telephone me from home because I was at a conference in Krakow.

I had not taken the pictures, but whoever had, had sat the end of the sofa - right where Passmore was. And, from the wondrous fire in Danielle’s eyes, she was enjoying herself.

I checked the date again. How “stupid” was I? It must have been written on my bloody forehead. I scrolled backwards and paused on “scared”. Was this how she’d felt when she’d been unable to find the camera? Did this suddenly explain why she had been so reasonable with the finances? After all, “shagging” somebody behind my back must be worth at least a couple of grand. This also tied-in with things that Horse-woman had told me. She’d seen Danielle in town with a man. I’d said it was probably a colleague. I’d been well and truly “screwed”. Super.

Skinner finished his call. I looked to him.

“Are you all right?” he said.

“No, I’m not. What’s going on? Do you know him?”

He nodded.

“Yes. We do, and you’re going to meet him in a minute, but there’s nothing to worry about.”

I looked at the screen. The pictures were still scrolling.  “Sad” stared back at me.

I looked at Skinner and then at the screen. Between them, they confirmed that there was something to worry about and that my new-found situation also began with “S”.

When the knock came, Skinner answered it and, in very different circumstances from the night before, he appeared – about 5’9” and quite broad. This was as I remembered him, but there were differences. He had a normal face - nothing like the agonised man I’d seen and captured. And, he didn’t scare me. I stood up.