It felt colder inside Corey Davies’s house than it did on the street outside, and Chloe found herself pulling her jacket close around her in a bid to stave off the biting air. It was a wonder Leanne Davies didn’t feel the cold; she had barely any fat on her to keep her warm and was wearing only jeans and a T-shirt. Chloe gave a thought to her own expanding waistline. Since meeting Scott, dinners out and evenings in on the sofa meant she had gone up a dress size. She had resolved not to waste too much thought on the fact. If anything, it meant that she was happier than she’d been before, when stress and worry had been responsible for keeping her thin.

Alex was sitting on the sofa; at the other end, Corey was huddled beneath a grey blanket, wrapped so tightly in it that only his neck and head could be seen. He hadn’t spoken a word since Alex and Chloe had arrived, despite the ongoing encouragement of his mother.

‘See what this has done?’ Leanne said, looking to Alex as though she was responsible. ‘Things were bad enough before. I can’t get a word out of him now.’

Chloe scanned the room. It was sparsely furnished, with bare floorboards that needed sanding. Wallpaper was peeling from the walls and at the windows the curtains moved with the cold that pushed through the single-glazed frames. Working long hours that kept him away from home for great stretches of time didn’t seem to be paying off for Corey’s father, or for his family.

‘Corey, you must remember something,’ Leanne said. She sat down beside him and snatched the TV remote control from his hand before muting the screen. ‘You want him to do the same to someone else, do you?’

Corey’s pale eyes looked past his mother, but for the first time there was a sign of something behind them. The boy blinked back tears and glanced down at the blanket, shaking his head as though willing her away.

‘Shall we all have a cup of tea?’ Alex suggested. She gave Chloe a nod before turning to Leanne. ‘Come on, I’ll give you a hand.’

Chloe knew what Alex was doing. Leanne was trying to be helpful, but her presence was overbearing and it was little wonder that Corey was still refusing to talk to anyone. Though she would probably have been upset at the suggestion, she was treating Corey as though he was in some way to blame for the attack, and doing so meant he would never open up to her about the incident.

‘I like this show,’ Chloe said, gesturing to the muted television. ‘They’re funny.’

Corey stared at the silent screen, refusing to acknowledge Chloe’s presence. He was small for his size, skinny like his mother, and he seemed crippled by an awkwardness he was unable to control. Chloe wondered what sort of person they were looking for; what sort of man would attack someone so obviously vulnerable and unlikely to fight back.

On the television, a group of men stood huddled by a row of bushes in a park, watching in stitches of laughter as their friend tried to get passers-by to sign up to a fake charity called ‘Save the Seagull’.

‘You know the tall one?’ Chloe said. ‘He’s related to Donald Trump. He’s his second cousin or something. He doesn’t like people to know. Well, you wouldn’t, would you? You can sort of tell, though, when you look at the hairstyle.’

There was a flicker of a reaction at Corey’s lips. ‘You know the short one?’ he said without looking at her. ‘He’s related to Elvis.’

‘Is he?’

‘No,’ Corey said, his voice flat and unchanging. ‘I just made it up, same as you did.’

Chloe smiled. ‘Ah, I’ve been caught out. Too smart for me.’ She sat back and faced the television. ‘Listen, Corey. It’s because you’re smart that you know your mum’s right. You don’t want what happened to you on Saturday night to happen to anyone else, do you?’

The boy shook his head. The motion was slow and methodical, any emotional response he might have had kept carefully forced back by a tensed jaw and a steely determination.

‘The thing is, we think it already has.’

Now she had his attention. Corey turned to her, making eye contact for the first time.

‘Last night, someone’s house was set on fire. Someone who lives not too far from here. She was an elderly lady, she lived on her own.’

Corey had already looked away, unable to hold her gaze for long. She waited for him to say something, but he didn’t speak. He was moving his head from side to side as though in slow protest. Chloe didn’t know much about his condition, but she could remember being fifteen. She hadn’t liked being spoken down to or talked to as though she was a child. If she was going to gain Corey’s trust, she was going to have to treat him like an adult.

‘We think whoever attacked you was the same person responsible for the fire last night,’ she continued. ‘We also think they’re responsible for the fire up at the hospital last week. You’re the only one who’s able to tell us anything about this person. I know it was dark and I know everything happened quickly, but anything you might be able to tell us could make a massive difference. This person needs to be stopped before they hurt anyone else.’

The boy’s head-shaking had increased in speed; his eyes were closed and his arms had emerged from beneath the blanket. He moved his hands together, twisting his fingers in his lap and clenching his fists until his knuckles whitened.

‘Did your attacker speak to you, Corey? Did he say anything at all?’

The more Chloe spoke, the more the boy shook his head. ‘No.’

‘No, he didn’t say anything to you?’

‘No. No, no, no, no, no, no!’

The word filled the room, louder with each repetition. The living room door opened and Leanne appeared carrying two mugs of tea, Alex following behind with another two.

‘Corey. Stop.’

‘No!’ The word escaped in one long scream this time, the single syllable stretched into an ear-splintering screech.

Leanne leaned down to put the mugs of tea on the table beside the sofa, but Corey lashed out before she got there, sending one of the drinks flying into the air. The mug smashed on the wooden floor, shattering into pieces and sending hot tea splashing against the women’s ankles.

‘What the hell have you done?’ Leanne asked accusingly, glaring at Chloe as she wrapped her arms around her son in an attempt to stop his shaking. ‘It’s all right, love,’ she said, though her words of comfort were unconvincing.

‘I …’ Chloe glanced to Alex for help. ‘We were just talking. I’m sorry.’

‘You need to leave now,’ Leanne said, firing the words out as Corey struggled to free himself from her grip. ‘Go on. Now!’ Her arms tightened around the boy and tried to control the frantic rocking that was taking over his body.

As Alex closed the front door behind them, Corey’s cries could still be heard.

‘Do you think he remembers anything?’ she asked.

Chloe shook her head. ‘Probably not. If he does, he’s not likely to tell us, is he?’

Alex unlocked the car. ‘Whoever this bastard is,’ she said, getting into the driver’s seat, ‘he’s running rings around us at the moment.’