The following morning, the atmosphere at the station continued to intensify. Forensics had finally got back to Alex to let her know that nothing useful had been found in the samples taken from Corey Davies’s fingernails, nor from those taken from the man who had intercepted the attack. Although it proved no surprise, it was disappointing nonetheless. A lack of development in each of the cases was causing frustration, and the friction between Alex and Chloe was beginning to be noticed by others in the team.

Alex sat in her office nursing a cup of coffee that had been left to go cold. She was reading once again the fire investigators’ report that had been submitted following the incident at the hospital the previous week. She realised she was searching for the impossible: some missed detail that might somehow make sense of all the things they were currently unable to fathom.

She and Chloe would be paying a visit to the Hassan home later that morning, but she didn’t want to leave until she had received the results on Gary Peters’ dental records. It had been confirmed that the fire damage to the body had meant a DNA test was impossible. She pulled up Peters’ police record on the computer database. He had been arrested twice, each a number of years earlier and both for shoplifting. According to his brother, Gary had developed a drinking habit that had gone on to cost him his marriage and his home. He had cut ties with his family; or, it seemed, his family had cut ties with him. Either way, his tragic ending had been a brutal finale in a life that had apparently been wasted in so many ways.

Studying the image stored on his record, Alex felt sure it was the same man captured on CCTV at the café in Tonypandy. What was as yet impossible to tell was whether Gary Peters was the man whose beaten and burned body had been recovered from the derelict hospital building.

Clicking from the page, she opened up another record: that of Syed Hassan. The Hassan brothers’ names kept recurring, yet there was currently no known link to any of the cases they were investigating. Syed Hassan had been in trouble with the police as a teenager, cautioned on a number of occasions for a series of minor offences. His record suggested he might be capable of more, but Gavin Jones was still refusing to make a formal statement regarding his assault. Then there was the link with Faadi and Corey Davies. Syed and Jameel would have known that Corey Davies was at the house on Saturday evening. Had one of them followed him home with the intention of harming him? And if so, why had they done it?

From what she already knew of the Hassan brothers, she didn’t think either was foolish enough to jump on a bus after carrying out such an attack.

On the desk, Alex’s phone began ringing, its noisy vibrations jolting her from her thoughts.

‘DI Alex King.’

‘We’ve got the results on Gary Peters’ dental records,’ the man at the other end of the line told her. ‘He’s your man.’

---

‘We could do with a warrant,’ Chloe said as she and Alex pulled up outside the Hassans’ home. She didn’t make eye contact when she spoke, still angry about their exchange at the station the previous day. She hadn’t forgiven Alex for what she’d done, or for the words that had been spoken in anger. The comment about drama had been particularly hurtful. She had never thought Alex would use what had happened to her months earlier against her in that way.

Alex and Dan didn’t make sense. The Alex she knew was fair and honest. She didn’t go around kissing other people’s husbands. Her own ex-husband had messed her around, even after the marriage had long been over. Chloe couldn’t comprehend Alex even contemplating bringing the same kind of troubles to another family.

So far, all conversation had been confined to the case. As far as both women were concerned, things were better kept that way.

‘Not enough to justify it at the moment,’ Alex replied.

Alex cut the engine of the Audi. She had picked it up that morning, reluctant to drive it from the garage and resolving to sell it as soon as possible. The car had been an impulse purchase after her divorce papers had been signed years earlier: a two-finger salute to the years of joint decision-making that had gone before. Like every other impulsive choice she’d ever made, it had turned out to be a regrettable one.

‘So where does Gary Peters fit into all this, if we’re considering a link between these incidents?’ Chloe pondered as she closed the passenger door behind her.

‘You’re looking for a connection between the victims. I don’t think there is one, not in the way we might like. Someone found out where Gary was and they attacked him, knowing he was incapable of fighting back. Same with Corey Davies. We’re looking for someone who preys on the weak.’ She pressed the Hassans’ doorbell. ‘I’m not sure that’s this pair,’ she said, giving a nod to the house. ‘Not if Gavin Jones’s claims are anything to go by. Our victims have all been vulnerable. Not exactly a fitting description of Gavin, is it?’

The door was answered by Mahira Hassan. This was her third encounter with Chloe and her face fell at the sight of police on her doorstep yet again.

She stepped aside to let the two officers into the house. ‘Faadi’s already told you everything he knows about Saturday night,’ she said, pushing the living room door open. Her youngest son was sitting on the sofa watching television.

‘We’re not here about Corey,’ Alex told her. ‘Are your other sons at home, Mrs Hassan?’

‘What do you want with them?’ Youssef Hassan appeared in the hallway. He was a middle-aged man, older than his wife by several years, and he wore a shirt and tie beneath a heavy coat. Either he had just arrived home or he was about to leave.

‘Are either of your older sons home?’ Alex asked, ignoring the question.

There was a clatter at the top of the staircase as Jameel Hassan, dressed in a pair of pyjama trousers, came from his room to see what was going on. ‘I’m here,’ he said, trudging slowly down the staircase.

‘Nasty bruising there,’ Alex said, noting the fading shadows that marked the young man’s left eye.

Jameel shrugged. ‘It’s nothing.’

‘Souvenir of your encounter with Gavin Jones last Thursday, is it?’

Jameel stopped at the foot of the staircase, stalled by Alex’s comment. His eyes narrowed as he looked from one woman to the other, wondering how they knew about the fight. ‘It was nothing,’ he said again.

‘Where were you on Sunday evening at around seven thirty?’ Chloe asked.

‘Here.’ Jameel folded his arms across his chest. He was just like his brother, Chloe thought; the same arrogant self-assurance and the same disregard for authority. She looked at Mahira, who nodded.

‘We had dinner together at six o’clock,’ she said. ‘The four of us.’

‘The four of you?’

‘Syed isn’t staying here at the moment,’ Youssef explained.

Alex glanced at Chloe. ‘Where is he staying?’

‘No idea,’ his father said. ‘You’d have to ask him.’

Faadi appeared in the living room doorway and looked questioningly at the adults gathered in the hallway.

‘If we could have a contact number for him then? A man named Gavin Jones was attacked on Sunday night,’ Alex continued, turning her attention back to Jameel. ‘You don’t know anything about that, do you?’

‘Why would I know anything? We just told you … I was here. Have you charged him with torching the shop yet?’

‘Jameel …’ Mahira began.

‘The fire happened just after the fight,’ Jameel said, cutting his mother short. ‘It doesn’t take a genius to work out it was Gavin who started it.’

He held Alex’s gaze, staring her out in the same way his older brother had challenged Chloe.

‘Were you here on Saturday evening as well?’

Gavin Jones’s alibi for Saturday had proved rock solid: he’d been in the Wetherspoons in Pontypridd as he claimed, with plenty of witnesses and CCTV footage to prove it. As such, it looked as though his claim that the petrol can had been stolen from the garage along with other of his possessions might be an honest one. Either that or he knew the person who’d attacked Corey Davies and had given them the petrol can, though that didn’t necessarily mean he had known they were going to use it to carry out the attack.

‘Yep,’ Jameel said, unable to keep the smug tone from his voice. ‘All night. Watched a bit of TV after dinner, then went up to bed.’

Alex glanced at Mahira, who nodded again at her son’s response. Was she giving him an alibi in an effort to protect him?

‘So you saw Corey Davies here on Saturday before he left to head home?’ Chloe asked.

‘Briefly,’ Jameel said. ‘Only when he walked past the living room to go up to Fatty’s bedroom.’ He cast his younger brother a smile that quickly stretched into a sneer.

‘Jameel,’ their father said, his tone laced with a warning note. ‘Look,’ he said, turning to Alex, ‘my sons have both told you everything they know. I’m sorry we can’t be more help to you.’

Chloe held Jameel’s stare, regarding him with contempt. He’d obviously picked up a lot of bad habits from Syed, she thought, including bullying their younger brother. They were unpleasant enough alone; put together, poor Faadi probably didn’t get a minute’s peace.

‘If you do think of anything else,’ she said, handing a card to Mahira, ‘my number’s on there.’ She looked to Faadi as she spoke, knowing he would understand her intention. He might be shy, but Chloe reckoned he was far from stupid.