‘Come on, Amy, it’s been ages since we went out for a proper girlie night.’

Kelly doesn’t appreciate that I’ve been out every night since New Year’s Eve, and can barely think straight I’m so tired.

‘Just come for one drink,’ Kelly pleads.

She’s my best friend so I relent, promising myself I will only stay for one drink, before getting some much needed rest.

It may have nothing to do with my one-woman crusade around the clubs and bars of London, but our killer still hasn’t struck. Maybe my message is finally getting through. I’ll never know how many lives I may have saved by reminding women just to be more wary of who they’re with and their surroundings.

We’ve been in the bar for half an hour, and I’ve nearly finished my rum and Coke. The group are talking about moving on to a nightclub, but I can barely keep my eyes open. The DI had us in first thing to confirm that the investigating team will be disbanded and we will each be reassigned to new investigations. The DSI has ruled that there is insufficient evidence to link the three murders, and Willow and Roxie’s cases will be passed back to their relevant divisions to follow up on. At least Steph was in our jurisdiction, which means we can keep plugging away at her investigation.

I stand and make my way to the toilets to freshen up. I’ve already thought of the excuse I’ll offer when I return: if I don’t get home to bed, I’ll pass out with exhaustion. But as I’m making my way back to the table, I feel a hand grab my forearm.

‘It’s Amy, isn’t it?’

I look up at the face of the man talking and recognise him immediately as the second or third date I went on before Christmas. But for the life of me I can’t remember what his name was.

I force a smile. ‘That’s right.’

He pulls me closer to him so I’ll hear him over the background noise. ‘You never messaged me back after our date. Did I do something wrong?’

I can see my friends looking for me over his shoulder. ‘Uh, it wasn’t you, it was me,’ I lie. ‘Sorry, that’s just the way it goes sometimes.’ I try to move away, but he holds my arm firm.

He leans closer. ‘You should give me a second chance. We could have a lot of fun together.’

I pull my arm free and fix him with a glare; cover-Amy is gone. ‘Listen, pal, I’m not interested. Okay?’

But his fingers are around my forearm again before I can move it back to my side. ‘No, maybe it’s not okay. I want to know the real reason you wasn’t interested.’

My friends are still looking for me, and I don’t want to do anything to draw his attention to them. An image of the DI pops into my mind: what would she do in this situation?

I grab his pint glass from the corner of the bar and deposit the drink over his head. He releases his grip in shock, and I turn on my heel, but I’ve barely moved a step, before he’s grabbing my shoulders and calling me a bitch.

Boy, did he pick the wrong night to fuck with me.

I reach up to his hand and bend his fingers back until I hear a satisfying crack. But before he has time to process the pain, I twist his wrist, causing him to spin around and face the bar, and then I kick the legs from under him. He crashes to the floor, spilling more drinks as he falls.

I lean in while he’s on his arse, and point my finger into his face. ‘No means no, you fucking creep. And if I ever lay eyes on you again, I’ll fuck up that pretty little face of yours. Now, clean up this mess, you’re making a scene.’

With that I return to my group of friends, who are gawping, open-mouthed.

‘Don’t worry about him,’ I tell them. ‘He asked me to blow him in the toilets.’

I stride off, nodding at the bouncer as he passes, having been called in because of a disturbance. He must recognise me from one of the previous nights because he grins and salutes as he passes.

Suddenly I don’t feel so tired anymore, and the thought of letting loose with my friends seems like a great idea. I can’t help thinking that we were closer to catching Steph’s killer than we realised, I just wish I could put my finger on his identity.