"Interview commenced at 12:09 am, Monday, seventh of August 2023, first interviewing officer present is DCI Thomas Becket, and interviewee...."

Lina's gaze bore into the suspect across the interview table. The acrid stench of chain-smoked cigarettes hung in the air, the ashtray overflowing with crushed butts. The man steadfastly avoided her eyes as he muttered his name.

"Benji Haines." The words escaped his lips in a sharp, clipped tone, accompanied by a plume of smoke. He leaned back as DCI Becket's hand came to rest on Lina's shoulder.

"Second officer present, DI Lina Haines." She stated her name and rank for the recording, then settled back in her chair, arms crossed, waiting for Thomas to begin the interview.

Strictly speaking, Lina shouldn't have been permitted to sit in on the interview due to her marital status. However, as one of the arresting officers – and after a solemn promise to the superintendent that she would remain silent – Lina found herself in interview room 3, with a front-row seat to her husband's interrogation.

The night had begun routinely enough. A call about a pair of women's legs protruding from an alley in Whitechapel had brought them to the scene shortly before 11 pm. They'd expected to find a woman severely intoxicated or high on meth. Instead, their torch beams had revealed a woman stabbed multiple times, with a man crouched beside her, pressing a bundled-up hoodie over the countless wounds. A man Lina had instantly recognised as her husband, Benji.

"...So, can you explain what happened?" Thomas began, spreading out the thin file on the table. "How you came to be in the alley?"

Benji, now dressed in the standard-issue grey tracksuit, his own clothes collected for evidence, fidgeted in his seat. Specks of dried blood dotted his hands, caked under his fingernails, with a smear on his cheek. His eyes remained fixed on the table as he spoke.

"I was coming back from my brother's, it was his wife's birthday, when I saw her lying half out the alley." Benji paused to take a sharp drag on his cigarette, his tongue flicking over his bottom lip. "I checked to see if she was alright...and, well..." He waved a hand dismissively, as if the rest was self-evident.

Thomas scribbled a note on the edge of a page, sliding it across for Lina to read. A simple question: was the sister-in-law's birthday account accurate? Lina knew Florence's birthday was indeed today, but a dinner had been arranged for Sunday due to her husband's work commitments. Unable to speak, Lina could only nod in confirmation.

Thomas ticked the question. "What time did you leave?"

Benji rubbed under his lip with his thumb, a nervous tic Lina knew all too well. "Ten, half ten, maybe?" He lit another cigarette, his cold, blue-green eyes narrowing. "Look, I had nothing to do with her being stabbed. I only tried to help."

Finally, Benji looked across the table at Lina, his gaze almost imploring her to believe him. Since arriving on the scene, Lina had remained detached, wrestling with the damning evidence before her. Benji could be an arsehole, but he wasn't violent. Lina believed him when he said he was only trying to help, but she knew a court would consider her a biased witness. Her hands were firmly tied.

When Lina shook her head back at Benji, unable to offer assistance, the hurt in his eyes was palpable. His mouth fell slightly agape in disbelief, before twisting into a sharp scoff. He threw himself back in the chair, gnawing at his lip in agitation.

Thomas laid a hand on the desk, tapping his little finger. "So why didn't you call an ambulance or the police?"

It was a fair question, but also not. Many people delayed calling for assistance due to shock. Still, Lina knew how long the walk from Florence's house to the alley would have taken. The call from the concerned citizen hadn't come in until nearly eleven, leaving at least a twenty-minute window – or longer if Benji's timeline was correct.

Benji had an explanation ready. "My phone was dead," he said, less nervous now and teetering towards annoyed, his brow creasing beneath the wispy curls that hung over his forehead. As he claimed, the iPhone taken from Benji was indeed dead as a dodo.

Thomas stopped tapping his finger. "Then what did you hope to do?"

Despising her enforced idleness, Lina took the preliminary report and began to peruse it, searching for anything that could help extricate Benji from his predicament. Being fitted up for murder, a brutal one at that, would bring Lina's world crashing down. Her career wasn't even a consideration; she simply couldn't bear the thought of her husband of seven years facing a murder charge due to a mistake.

There was no bias when Lina told herself that Benji didn't do it. Not even the suspected murder weapon being found under his knee when he stood gave her pause. If it were Benji, there was no plausible reason he would have stayed and tried to offer aid to the woman. That detail made no sense, and it wouldn't in court either. Even a remorseful killer fled the scene.

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"...Interview suspended at 12:23hrs, Sergeant Parker entered the room."

Thomas snapped the pause button on the tape recording, removing the cassette and stashing it in his blazer pocket. He patted Lina's shoulder as he stood, moving to the door when Sergeant Parker called him over. Watching to see if Thomas and Parker would leave, Lina closed the file as the door clicked shut.

Turning to Benji, she found him already halfway across the table. "What happened?" Lina beat him to the punch, her hands spread wide in confusion and frustration. "Why didn't you knock on a door or shout for help?!"

"I wasn't thinking straight!" Benji shouted, slamming a hand on the table. The open room echoed with the impact. Lina quickly captured his hands, lowering them to the table and listening intently for any sign that someone might come in.

Benji seemed to settle as he realised he could face further charges if it appeared he was becoming aggressive with Lina, even though she knew he was harmless. "Sorry, I... Please tell me you don't think I did this?" He pleaded, lowering his head to try and catch Lina's eye.

"No!" Lina's response was immediate and vehement. "Of course, I don't!"

Benji sank down, laying his head on the table and turning over his hands to grasp Lina's. It was as if all the agitation and stress left him in that moment. Slowly, Lina laid her head atop Benji's, feeling the quiver of his body through their joined hands. She exhaled, trying to relieve the pressure in her chest.

Benji turned his head, one eye peering at Lina through his dark curls. He freed a hand to stroke back her hair, only to stop and stare at the blood specks on his fingers before snatching it away from her face.

"How long can I be held without charge?" he queried faintly, sitting up. Lina followed suit.

"We can't," she informed him, stroking behind her ear. "However, we will have to seize your passport, all identification, and bank cards." The new laws were intended to keep the cells empty but infringed on a suspect's freedom of movement. "We'll call your bank and request a freeze on your assets."

Picking at the stains on his fingers, Benji gave a short, breathy laugh. "Beats spending the night in a cell," he tried to smile, but it didn't even reach the corners of his mouth. "How is it looking? Me being charged, I mean?" He clarified, reaching for the cigarette packet again. Lina allowed it; it was the minimal comfort she could grant him.

Lina couldn't say how things were looking until Thomas returned from speaking with Parker. There could be new evidence, an identification of the victim, a witness – many factors needed to be considered before she could confidently say whether Benji should be worried.

Taking a cigarette for herself, Lina cocked her head. "Until Tommy comes back, I can't say," she admitted, inhaling deeply despite the burn in her lungs.

Benji sneered in response. "Bet he's loving this."

Lina chose not to argue, knowing it was better to give Benji something other than a possible murder charge to fixate on – even if it was his bitter hatred for her work partner.

"Di—" Lina began, but twisted in her chair as the interview room door opened again.

Thomas slid in through the gap. "You're free to go," he announced, though he appeared displeased with the idea. "The super also told you to go home," he added, aiming a lopsided smile at Lina.

Benji hesitated. "Does that mean I'm no longer a suspect?"

Curious about what development had led to Benji's release, Lina gestured for more information. Thomas wiggled his fingers before explaining, "Not his prints on the murder weapon. And the pathologist reckons she died somewhere between eight and nine."

Lina felt the tension in her chest snap free. "She was already dead before he found her?"

Thomas shuffled on his feet, his polished oxfords clipping on the linoleum. "We won't know for sure until the autopsy, but it looks that way, yeah," he confirmed, a flicker of disappointment crossing his face. He shrugged off Lina's silent admonishment. "Go on. You know the drill," he said before slipping out again.

Shoulders slumping, Lina pressed a hand to her forehead, fatigued by the night's events. She knew there was still work to be done before she could clock off and go home. Seizing Benji's passport and bank cards could wait until morning; he wasn't a flight risk.

Taking her keys from her overcoat pocket, Lina held them against her palm as Benji came to stand beside her. The grey tracksuit and cheap plimsolls made him look like a prisoner on day release, and she told him as much.

"Glad to know I have a loving and sympathetic wife," Benji grumbled, giving Lina a soft push with his arm. "Can we go? I want a shower."

Accepting the encouragement, Lina nodded. She, too, wanted to be home and wash away the most stressful night of her career. Collecting the file from the table, she led Benji from the interview room.

The corridors of Bishop's Gate station were bustling, as always in the East End of London. Whitechapel, especially, never slept. Approaching the protective screen covering the front desk, Lina shook her head when Wendy tried to engage in conversation. Wendy's grey eyes flicked between Lina and Benji, her mouth pinched as she tugged it side to side, clearly wanting to ask something.

"Not tonight," Lina requested, "I need the discharge papers."

Once Benji had signed the necessary documents, Lina checked her buzzing phone, ignoring a simple text message. "Done?" she asked as Benji dropped the pen. With a quick smile turned on Wendy, they headed across the lobby and out through the glass-panelled automatic doors.

The night air was brisk as they stood on the steps, and Lina shivered, fatigue setting in.

"I'll drive," Benji offered, and for once, Lina didn't argue. She handed over the keys to her Mercedes c300, eighteen plate, which she'd hastily parked on the pavement in her rush to reach the station after Benji had been placed in the back of a squad car.

"Don't rear-end anyone this time," Lina quipped as she slid into the leather passenger seat, dragging the seatbelt across her body.

"I rear-ended you," Benji muttered as he got in, "Six years ago." He reached under the seat, adjusting it to accommodate his legs.

Lina's head rolled towards him, her gaze laconic as Benji turned to her. The engine purred to life, and he laid a hand on her thigh, squeezing it gently. She managed a tepid smile in return.

"Let's go home," Benji said softly, easing the car off the curb. As they drove towards their house near Spitalfields, the traffic still thick even at this late hour, Lina settled back in her seat and let her eyes close.

Come morning, she prayed there would be enough evidence to clear Benji's name without probable doubt. Until then, Lina could only hope that nothing would surface to recall Benji for another interview or, worse, see him charged with murder.