River

'What would happen if you stopped trusting them,

'and started trusting me?'

There's a group I run.

It's a couple of times a week. We're meeting tonight.

Come.

You NUTTER!

- Why do you do this? - Because I am you.

I am the darkest part of you.

I am despair.

I am death.

I'm just trying to find out the truth.

I'm trying to find out who did this to you.

She was investigating something.

You have to tell Chrissie.

I know him.

The man on your appeal.

He came in about three months ago looking for a job.

12.5% of the population within a few square miles.

No wonder we can't find him.

One of the great invisibles.

You have to find him. Someone is going to kill him.

We're born alone, we die alone.

Only through love and friendship can we create

the illusion for the moment, that we are not alone.

We'll find who did this.

Otherwise what are we good for?

Can you see me yet?

Night-night.

I'm a state authorised judge. Go on.

So? I had a second phone.

Any headway on the pay-as-you-go number

found on Stevie's second phone?

We come to this country so filled with hope,

so grateful for the potential.

Yet still they say, "Why do we leave our door blindly open

"to these people?"

But you migrated here too.

You see what people here do not see.

You of all people.

If only you had seen me clearly as I see you.

See the loneliness.

The isolation.

What it is like to be so far from your country and family.

What it is like to try and fit here.

How hard it is just to be.

Would you excuse me?

Why was Stevie calling you?

Does Chrissie know?

That you have a second phone or that you spoke to Stevie on it

in the weeks leading up to her death?

- It didn't seem relevant. - To who?

She was asking my advice.

She had a friend, he was here illegally.

For Christ's sake, Tom, that "friend" was all over a police appeal.

Yes, but I didn't know his name. She didn't tell me.

I didn't make the link.

She wanted to know his chances of staying here,

and I agreed they were pretty slim.

But I told her,

without the right paperwork... And his lawyer was pretty good.

I mean, as good as any of us are. She was trying to help him.

And what were YOU doing?

Oh, OK.

This is a cheap pay-as-you-go phone, and I use it for work,

and the occasional recreational activity.

What do you want from me?

You should tell Chrissie.

I know I should tell Chrissie if I wasn't a shit.

But I'm a shit.

Like a lot of other shits with a wife who barely looks at me.

Now, I'm serious.

The thought of seeing me naked is more than repellent to Chrissie.

It's practically laughable.

She'd rather sleep with the dog than spend a night cooched up with me.

And I am mortgaged up to the hilt,

I've got four delinquent and selfish children.

You know what? Forgive me if I didn't make the very obvious link

over a couple of phone calls.

Four!

You spoke to Stevie four times.

One was 19 minutes long.

I presumed they were screwing.

No. That's YOUR style, Tom.

Talk to Chrissie.

And say what?

We'll need a statement.

Talk to her before then.

The murder of Haider Jamail Abdi.

DS Stevenson was involved with him... How?

We've established that the blue Mondeo used in DS Stevenson's murder

was owned by Mr Jamal Abdi,

but it was not in his possession after October the 17th.

Five days later, it was used in the drive-by shooting of DS Stevenson.

We know that he sometimes stayed at her flat, and our increasing concern

is that the murder of Haider Jamal Abdi and DS Stevenson are linked.

They knew one another. We've ruled out any sort of relationship,

but we do know that she was investigating something

and Mr Jamal Abdi may have been helping her.

Was it this investigation that led to their deaths?

Mr Jamal Abdi was clearly frightened

in the hours leading up to his murder.

So, was someone trying to frame him? Who?

And how does this link to either or both of their murders?

Ira has been meticulously going through

the CCTV footage from the library.

- Perhaps you'd like to bring us up to speed. - Yeah.

This is a list of names.

No amber alerts as of yet.

Those we know who took out books that day

and were in the library. I've gone through most of the people,

but there are one or two not yet identified.

And unfortunately there wasn't a camera angled on the murder.

Where have you been?

Coffee with a friend.

You have no friends.

Well, that's not strictly true.

I don't count.

Are you all right?

I'm fine.

You're keeping something from me. Do not go behind my back.

Hostel in Whitechapel. Came in on the appeal. We're going down now.

Haider had been staying there.

He signed in on the night of Stevie's murder.

Eyewitnesses saw him on the phone to his wife.

Then reading in his room till gone midnight.

I take it all back -- appeals forever more.

What the hell was she up to?

And who was he so frightened of?

Oh, Ira said you had a new lead, the pay-as-you-go.

It got up and went.

And now he gives me jokes.

River...

Come to me first, OK?

Boss is on the prowl.

Oh, Stevie's laptop.

It's on your desk.

We've pulled everything out now -- search history, e-mails,

cleaned up the hard drive, etc. but there's... photos

and... stuff I don't want to wipe, so...

.. can you work out what to do with it?

Hi.

No. No, no, no, no.

You do not get out of dinner tonight, my love.

They... Tom! Listen to me, they are your parents.

It's Stevie's search history. I've trawled through it twice now.

There's some repeated searches, but no links yet.

I'll go over it later.

Cleaner. We're trying to trace him.

He's there mopping the floor. Library have no record of him.

I'm pulling up what I can, but most of the people there that day

probably didn't even have a library card.

Just skimming the free newspapers and getting in from the cold.

Haider's reading list -- the odd bit of poetry,

a taste for Dan Brown novels.

He'd checked out a couple of books

on British citizenship and the legal system.

Why does everybody want to come to this city?

You did.

I came because I had to, when I was 14.

My grandmother died and my mother lived here.

First week, I lived on peanut butter sandwiches.

It was all she had in the fridge. It rained all the time

and nothing was green.

I hated it. Hated it.

But you stayed.

It had its advantages.

It's a city for everyone who belongs to everywhere else.

I went to Cork when I was 14.

Rained there too.

River!

All right?

Yeah.

I can drive.

It's fine.

She's gone.

How would you know?

I'm getting a feel for it.

Right...

Right.

Right.

Excuse me, is it all right if you just pull out some records for us?

Haider had been here nearly three months,

and moved out the day after Stevie died.

That must have been when he moved in with Khaalid.

They said it's worth talking to...

to Mrs Sunday Akentola. She's the hostel's immigration lawyer.

She comes in twice a week and Haider had a couple of meetings with her.

Most likely to get the process started, but no-one knows

if he followed through.

Mrs Akentola.

Sorry... Sorry. I've finished up for today.

It's all right, the last thing we need is a lawyer.

Do you mind if we walk?

I've got an appointment back in my office in...

oh, now.

Paperwork, June, for a Mr Haider Jamal Abdi. Please, do sit.

- Here you are, Sunday. - Thanks, June. A very nice man.

I am sorry I didn't make the association in the press.

Have you ever seen this woman?

No.