The moment he sits down, I feel something isn’t quite right. When he messaged me online, he’d come across as confident, arrogant even, but the man before me is quiet and withdrawn. His eyes dart towards the diner door every time it opens.

He looks nothing like the handsome forty-something man in the profile picture either. My heart is racing, and it’s all I can do to stop my hands from shaking.

I keep reminding myself that the DI is parked in a van outside, so if he tries to abduct me or force me into a vehicle, they’ll be ready to intervene. They also have an image of his face from the brooch-cam pinned to my lapel.

It’s then I remember I’ve removed my jacket. Despite the cold rain outside, inside the diner it’s like an oven. The place is packed, and there is a queue for tables at the door. It was his idea to meet here. Should I have scoped out the place first? This is the fifth date I’ve been on this week, and until now I haven’t felt concerned. But this guy’s vibe isn’t right.

I try to glance down at the brooch, to judge whether they can see him, but I’m sure my left arm is in line of sight. After the horror of the first date, we have agreed I won’t wear an earpiece, so I now have no verbal relay from the van. They can hear everything we say, but not vice versa.

The diner door opens again and two loud youths enter; my date practically falls off his seat.

My voice tremors as I try to calmly ask him if he’s okay. He forces a thin smile and brushes off my concern, passing me a menu and asking me if I’d like to share some wine with him.

‘I don’t drink,’ I tell him, smiling back. ‘Too many bad experiences as a youngster.’

It’s a line the DI and I agreed upon. In the event that I need to arrest one of the dates, it’s better if there is no question mark over my sobriety. I could murder a drop of white right now, just to settle my nerves.

‘You don’t look much like your profile picture,’ I comment for the team’s benefit, more than my own. ‘I was expecting someone with light brown hair, but in person it looks much greyer.’

He blushes slightly. ‘It’s an old photo. I should update it. Are you disappointed I’m older than I said?’

He’s testing me, so I dismiss the suggestion with a wave of my hand. ‘Age is just a number.’

The team vet each of the dates before they arrive, but they struggled to get any information on this guy. He’s the first of the six to set alarm bells ringing. The DI told me I didn’t have to go through with it, but I told her I’d be fine. I wish I hadn’t been so stubborn. I desperately want this date to end: the sooner the better.

The waitress takes our orders, and we settle into small talk. He tells me he is a delivery driver by day. I picture him in a large van. A van large enough to transport a body, hidden from view. And how many of us would question a delivery van pulled up on the side of the road? It’s the perfect cover.

When the food arrives, I ask if he works for a major delivery company, but he shakes his head and says he freelances. ‘Keeps the taxman off my back,’ he adds with a snigger.

Which means his van probably isn’t registered with a delivery company, making it more difficult to track. His head snaps around at the door again.

I want to arrest him now. Even if it turns out he isn’t the killer we’re hunting, it would give me an excuse to get out of here. But if I panic, the DI might think twice about continuing this assignment, and I can’t do that to Steph.

I tell him I do secretarial work in a doctor’s surgery.

‘You don’t look like an admin assistant,’ he says, as a creepy smile stretches his cheeks wider.

‘What do I look like then?’ I ask, terrified my cover is blown.

‘You could be a model.’

It’s a cheesy line, but I pretend to be grateful for the compliment. He reaches out and takes my hand in his. His is warm and clammy, and my skin crawls. I want to pull it away, but I need to find out more about him. Why did I ever volunteer for this assignment?

‘I really like you,’ he says. ‘You’re so beautiful, and I know you’re out of my league, but what would you say if we get out of here and go somewhere a bit more intimate?’

My instinct tells me to grab his neck and slam his face into the table, before yanking his wrist behind his back and cuffing him, but I hold my nerve. ‘Where were you thinking?’

‘I have my van around the corner… we could go for a drive…’

Is this what he said to the others? Did he give lifts to Willow, Roxie and Steph? Or did they refuse rides and that’s why he attacked them?

I leave my hand where it is, and act coy. ‘I hardly know you. Why don’t we eat first, and then when we’re done, I’ll give you my answer.’

He raises my hand and I can feel the dried and cracked skin of his lips as he kisses it.

A camera suddenly flashes to our right and a woman approaches us. She places a business card on the table, and as I read it upside down, I’m amazed to see she’s a private investigator. My date looks crestfallen.

‘Your wife wants a divorce,’ she tells him with a grin, snarling in my direction. ‘We have all the evidence we need. If you don’t want her to take you to the cleaners, you call that number in the morning, and we’ll talk.’

And with that she disappears out of the door. He is propping his head up with his hands, his eyes darting as he tries to process what’s just happened. I can’t quite believe what I’ve just witnessed either, but before I can speak, he grabs his coat from the back of his chair and tails it out of the diner, just as the waitress brings our food over.

He’s left me to pay the bill. Asshole.