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Charlie stared at the screen in shock, scarcely able to believe her eyes.

‘I’m resigning with immediate effect. Given recent events, I feel unable to execute my duties as a member of the MIT team. My union representative will be in touch shortly to complete the formalities.’

Short, but far from sweet, DC Shona Williams’ resignation email had taken Charlie completely by surprise.

She’d spoken briefly to her new recruit earlier in the day and, though understandably sombre and quiet, the young DC had seemed stable enough, promising to engage with HR later in the day to discuss a measured route back to work.

Clearly something had happened in the interim to change her mind, however, her email a brutal full stop to her brief career at Southampton Central.

It beggared belief that Shona’s upward trajectory, her whole future, could have been derailed so quickly and so catastrophically, but the evidence was there on the screen in black and white.

What should she do now? Charlie knew Shona’s unexpected departure would reflect badly on her leadership of the MIT team and her first instinct was to pick up the phone and beg the young DC to reconsider.

But Williams’ email had made it clear that she wanted no more contact with anyone at Southampton Central, her despair total, her decision irrevocable.

Charlie’s heart bled for her, remembering full well how tough she herself had found her early days as a DC, but she was also concerned for what it might mean for team morale and her own position at the station.

Not for the first time in the last six months, Charlie found herself wondering what Helen would have done in this situation.

Holed up in her predecessor’s office, it felt impossible to shrug off Helen’s mantle – to stop herself wondering what better decisions she might have made – however much Charlie tried to distance herself from her former mentor.

Sitting behind Helen’s desk, on Helen’s chair, Charlie had often questioned whether she was woman enough to fill Helen’s shoes. Today she thought she had her answer.

Frustrated, unsettled, Charlie rose from her seat, heading out into the incident room, determined not to give into morbid introspection.

The team were hard at work, unaware they’d just lost one of their team, but concrete results were proving elusive.

DC Roberts was directing a small group of them, who continued to pore over freight immigration records, so instead Charlie bent her footsteps to DC Malik, with whom she’d tasked tracking Clint Davies’ movements over the last few months, hoping that she might offer some cause for optimism.

‘How’re you getting on?’ Charlie enquired cheerfully.

The junior officer smiled wearily, before replying:

‘I’ve spent the last few hours checking and re-checking Clint Davies’ movements, seeing if triangulation can cast any light on his activities and I have made some progress, but I’m not sure it gets us any further on really …’

‘Go on,’ Charlie encouraged, happy to take whatever slender piece of good news her colleague had to offer.

‘So we know Davies lives in St Denys with his girlfriend,’ DC Malik replied, gesturing to the map on her screen, ‘and that each day he takes the bus down to the docks.’

‘Correct.’

‘Well, other than that, he doesn’t do much, he’s not the most social of animals. But when he does go elsewhere, he heads here.’

The junior officer gestured towards a series of red flags superimposed on a digital map of Southampton.

‘Where is that?’ Charlie said, leaning in closer.

‘Highfield,’ DC Malik responded. ‘Close to the uni campus.’

‘Good place to go for a cheap beer.’

‘Plus, there’s lot of clubs and bars. Discount stores too, selling anything from 5K TVs to dusters. It’s possible he goes there to offload some of his goods. Or maybe he just goes there for a night out.’

‘No links in his socials to any students? Anyone who might live in that area?’

‘Not that we’ve found so far.’

‘But it does seem to be an area of specific interest for him,’ Charlie said, intrigued. ‘Have we checked out what these individual establishments are?’

She gestured at the red flags.

‘I was about to do that now,’ DC Malik responded. ‘And once I’ve got a comprehensive list, I was going to give them a buzz in the morning. See if any of them know Davies, professionally or personally.’

‘Do you think that’s where he might have met his paymaster?’

‘Possibly,’ DC Malik responded. ‘He was definitely in the area when he made the call that we traced. And obviously he had a stash of cash on him when he was … apprehended.’

She might have said ‘run over’, but avoided rubbing salt in the wound.

‘But he was on the move when we traced him and, as he visited a number of different places in the area that morning, it’s not entirely clear to me yet where he’d been.’

Charlie nodded, wanting to appear encouraging and supportive, but as her eye fell on the screen once more, her heart sank. The Highfield area was dotted with red flags, so which ones should they prioritize? Where should they concentrate their efforts?

And would any of them hold the key to cracking this baffling case?