The team gathered in the incident room, forming a semicircle around the evidence board, which now included the incident involving Corey Davies. Alex headed the meeting. She was physically fine, although the events of the previous evening had left her feeling more than a little paranoid. She couldn’t shake off the feeling that had gripped her when she had found herself unable to stop the car. It hadn’t even been the prospect of an accident that had unsettled her: it was the thought that someone was responsible for it. The car had only recently been in for an MOT. There had been nothing wrong with it.

It was her suspicions about who might have been responsible that were making her feel so unsettled.

‘Right,’ she said, bringing the chatter around her to a close. ‘You’re all aware of the attack on fifteen-year-old Corey Davies that occurred yesterday evening in the park next to Ystrad sports centre. He was kept in hospital overnight but has already been discharged. Corey has autism,’ she said, pointing to the photograph of the boy that had been added to the evidence board that morning. ‘Dan and Chloe have met his mother and by all accounts he struggles with social situations and is quite reclusive. As things stand, he still hasn’t said a word to anyone. As you know, the attack was interrupted, but the perpetrator managed to throw petrol at Corey before he fled.’

She turned to the board and ran a finger from the photograph of the interior of the Hassans’ burned-out shop to the horrific image of the charred remains found in the derelict Llwynypia hospital. ‘We’ve no link between these cases at the moment other than the occurrence of fire, but the proximity of the incidents time-wise suggests that they may be somehow connected. Following the TV appeal, we’ve received a call from a café owner in Tonypandy who recognised the description of our victim. Last Tuesday he asked a man to leave the premises – he claims the man was drunk and was making a nuisance of himself.’

She stopped for a moment and leaned across the desk in front of her, clicking a few keys on the laptop that lay open there. No one said anything. Alex’s tone was abrupt, her words clipped, and rumours about the circumstances surrounding her accident had circulated around the station quickly that morning. The car had been taken into a local garage she had managed to find open on a Sunday, and she was waiting to hear back from them. Until she did, she knew she should avoid speculation. The thought was easier than the deed. One name kept repeating itself.

If she achieved little else that day, she had resolved to find out where Christian Coleman had been the previous evening.

On the whiteboard behind Alex was projected a still taken from the CCTV footage that had been passed on by the café owner. The image was surprisingly good, the man’s face turned so that the camera was able to capture a clear picture. He was wearing a dark coat and a thin beanie hat. The bottom half of his body was out of shot, meaning they were unable to see what he was wearing on his feet.

‘Obviously the image is black and white, but the café owner has given a description of the man’s clothing that matches items found at the hospital.’

‘So it seems more likely now that he was sleeping rough there?’ Chloe asked.

Alex nodded. ‘The image is going to run on this evening’s news. Dan, I’d like you to get it up on social media, see what comes back from it. Hopefully someone will be able to identify him.’

Moving from the desk, she returned to the evidence board. ‘Before he was attacked last night, Corey had been with Faadi Hassan, the youngest son of the couple who own the Llwynypia Stores. Chloe and I visited the family’s house this morning. Chloe.’

‘The two boys played computer games in Faadi’s bedroom before Corey left at around eight o’clock,’ Chloe told the team. ‘Faadi didn’t say much more than that. Trying to get anything from him was like pulling teeth. If this morning was anything to go by, the two boys probably didn’t speak to each other while they were together yesterday.’

‘His brother made up for it, though,’ Alex said.

‘What do you mean?’ Dan asked.

‘Syed Hassan seems to have a bit of a chip on each shoulder, put it that way. It could still be a reaction to the arson at the shop, perhaps. Do we have a link between Corey and Faadi here, or is it just coincidence? A petrol can was found a couple of streets away from last night’s attack – it had been thrown over a garden wall. It’s with forensics at the moment. Ideally we’ll be able to retrieve fingerprints, but the contents have also been sent for testing. Once we know the brand of petrol, we may be able to find out where it was purchased.’

‘So what do you want us doing in the meantime?’ DC Jake Sullivan asked.

Alex shot him a frosty look. Not for the first time, Sullivan seemed to want spoon-feeding and she didn’t have the patience or the time for team members who couldn’t use a bit of initiative. ‘Your job,’ she suggested. She could feel Chloe’s eyes on the side of her face, judging her reaction. She turned back to the board. ‘What do these victims have in common?’

When no one responded, she found her impatience growing. ‘A Muslim family relatively new to the area who have already reported a series of racially motivated incidents, most of which are connected to their shop. A man we believe to have been living homeless whose post-mortem report shows evidence of substance abuse and who was likely to have been under the influence when he was attacked. A fifteen-year-old boy with severe autism … do I need to spell it out for you?’

The atmosphere had chilled even further, the temperature in the room challenging that of outside. No one spoke for a moment, taken aback by the uncharacteristic anger that emanated from Alex.

‘All vulnerable victims,’ Chloe said, breaking the uncomfortable silence.

‘Thank you,’ Alex said, exasperation still lacing her tone. ‘There was no victim in the physical sense at the Hassans’ shop, but we don’t know whether that was intentional. The fire was started at around one thirty in the morning, so it’s unlikely that the person responsible would have believed anyone to be inside at that time. So what are we looking at, if in fact the same person is responsible for all three incidents?’

‘Are we expecting another incident, given the time frame between these?’ DCI Thompson asked.

‘I’d say it’s likely. Let’s not forget the timing, either. We’re in the lead-up to Bonfire Night. Perfect time of year for a pyromaniac.’

‘You think something else might happen then?’ Chloe said.

‘I just think we should prepare ourselves for the possibility.’

‘Looks as though you’d better get a move on then, Detective Inspector King.’

Alex glanced at DCI Thompson, who was assuming his usual nonchalant stance next to the doorway, ready to leave as soon as he was able. She swallowed a response, though doing so nearly choked her.

‘Okay – Dan, if you could get things moving on social media, get this image out there and we’ll see if anything comes back. Chloe, I’d like you to come with me to Ystrad sports centre. Something might have been picked up on CCTV there. Jake, I need some background checks done on the Hassan family. I’m not expecting to hear anything from forensics today, but as soon as anything comes in I want it shared with everyone, please. Let’s find some solid connections between these incidents.’

As the team dispersed, Chloe lingered. ‘You sure you’re okay?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, fine.’

‘What’s his problem?’ she asked, giving a nod in the DCI’s direction.

Alex rolled her eyes. ‘Missing the home comforts of HQ, I’d imagine.’

‘Any news about the car yet?’

Alex shook her head.

‘You seem uptight.’

‘Chloe,’ Alex said abruptly, gathering her things from the desk in front of her. ‘I said I’m fine.’

She swept past her and left the room, leaving Chloe wondering just what had happened the previous evening. One thing was certain: Alex was far from fine.