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Elin sits down at her desk, thighs still tingling from her run. She loves early mornings in the office—the silence and citrus-fresh bite of cleaning fluid, the loamy light picking up dusty computer screens. Tiny details she sees only at this time, when her brain has space to roam, not yet weighed down by the detritus of the day.

She needs any help she can get on this case; a vital spark that’s been missing so far. There’d been another burglary yesterday, the latest in a spate of similar crimes, the thieves making off with thousands of pounds’ worth of jewelry and electrical goods, petty cash. In the past few weeks, she’d widened the net. They’d gone to the press to appeal for witnesses and dashcam footage, but they’d drawn a blank. Forensics had turned up nothing.

The pressure is weighing on her: If she can’t make headway on this, why would they think she’s ready to go back to the MCIT?

Elin sifts through the witness statements. The gang, and she’s certain it is a gang given the volume of crimes, is professional: identifying targets without any kind of security or CCTV either on the house or in the vicinity.

“Morning.”

She looks up. Steed. He gives her an easy grin and slips off his backpack, dropping it to the floor. Heat is radiating off him, sweat patches blooming under his arms.

“Christ, it’s hot already. I was going to cycle in, but changed my mind.” Pulling a protein shake from the side pocket of his bag, he pops the cap.

“It’s going to be in the nineties by the afternoon.” Elin appreciates the small talk, certain he won’t mention seeing her on the beach. He’s too discreet. It’s something she’s picked up on since they’ve worked together; he knows when to leave things.

“What’s on for today?” Steed swigs from his shake.

“There was another burglary last night. We need to double-check all CCTV within half a mile of the property. I know we’ve got a few restaurants nearby, the yacht club on the other side, see if we can pick anything up that way. Hold on—” She stops, noticing Anna’s name flashing on her phone.

A flicker of nerves as she recalls their last conversation. But there’s no reference to the day before. Anna’s voice is oiled with urgency. “We’ve received a report of a body on the rocks out on Cary Island, at the retreat.”

“LUMEN?” A catch in her throat at the synchronicity: Will’s award.

“Yes. You okay to attend the scene and assess the situation? You’re closest. Ambulance and CSI will meet you on the jetty at Babbacombe. The police boat will pick you up from there.”

You’re closest . It makes sense, but she knows that Anna suggesting she go isn’t just because she’s in the vicinity. It’s a vote of confidence in her, her abilities, after their discussion yesterday.

But the doubts of the last few weeks jostle for position, crowding her head. What if she can’t handle it? But Elin quickly squashes the thought; she’s capable. Ready. “Absolutely. I’ll get my things together and go.”

As she says goodbye, she notices Steed is listening. “Something on?”

“A body’s been found on Cary Island. Fancy coming?”

“Of course.” He straightens—excitement that he quickly tries to temper by making a fuss of checking his phone.

But as she starts methodically packing her grab bag, everything from evidence bags to forensic clothing, a wave of trepidation sweeps over her.

Despite Will’s involvement in LUMEN, she’s never visited the island. Never wanted to—no local did. The island’s past had always weighed far too heavily.