O’Dowd strode into the office flanked by DCI Phinn. Never the sunniest of people, the DCI looked as though he’d been given a week to live and told he must spend six of the seven days juggling rattlesnakes.

His presence was an indicator of the severity of the case. He wasn’t the hands-on type of manager unless there was something in it for him. That he’d shown up so early in their investigation told her that he was taking a personal interest.

While she wanted to be the one to solve the puzzle and identify the killer, Beth was glad he was there to help them earn justice for Angus and his family. Who reached the solution was nowhere near as important as catching the killer.

‘Right you lot.’ O’Dowd’s expression was serious as she addressed them. ‘Here’re your tasks: DC Young, I want you on with finding out the names of the children who were evacuated to Arthuret Hall and the people who were tasked with looking after them; DC Unthank, you’re to do the same for the RAF and MOD men.’ A sheet of paper was pointed at Thompson. ‘I want you to chase down these names and find out everything about them. They are the folk our victim may have had even the slightest of problems with.’

As O’Dowd had used formal titles in the presence of DCI Phinn, Beth made sure she did the same. ‘Ma’am?’

‘Yes?’

The word was snapped, but that didn’t worry Beth. With the implications uncovered during the post-mortem sinking in, it was little wonder O’Dowd’s temper was starting to fray. There had been a horrific murder and there were a multitude of leads involving what may potentially be hundreds of suspects.

‘Are you bringing in a criminal psychologist?’

Phinn raised an eyebrow as O’Dowd bristled at Beth. ‘Why do you ask that?’

‘This murder is seriously messed up, ma’am. We’ve got a body with wings attached to its back and the post-mortem suggests that the victim had some kind of accelerant poured into his mouth and then lit.’

‘I do know that, DC Young. I’ve plenty of experience investigating murders and they’re all messed up.’

‘I’m sorry, if I offended you. I’m certainly not questioning your judgement.’ Beth tried to dig herself out of the hole she felt she was in. ‘But with respect, ma’am, you said yourself you’ve never seen anything like it before. I just thought you might want to try and get an idea of what the killer might be thinking.’

Phinn lifted a hand to silence O’Dowd before she could reply. ‘What are you getting at, lass?’ When he spoke his tone was businesslike without crossing the line into brusqueness or condescension.

Beth felt her cheeks colour as the entire focus of the room shifted to her. She gave a little swallow before opening her mouth. ‘I’ve been wondering what the killer’s reasoning is. He’s put wings on a victim and fire in their mouth.’ Beth hesitated as she summoned the courage to share what she was thinking. ‘What do you think of when someone tells you about breathing fire and wings? Because my first thought was a dragon.’

O’Dowd’s curled lip combined with Phinn’s lengthy sigh pierced Beth’s confidence. Defeated she slumped in her seat and looked at the wall.

This theory would probably now be used as a stick to beat her with. She knew how the police worked behind the scenes; there were few officers who didn’t glory in the mickey-taking of a colleague. She’d done it herself and had it done to her before. Perhaps it was a coping mechanism for the stress of the job, but the slightest wrong word or silly idea was pilloried for weeks or sometimes even months. All the same, Beth, like everyone else, never wanted to be the butt of others’ jokes.

Her saviour was the one person in the room she least expected to have her back.

‘Actually, I think she’s onto something.’ Thompson rubbed at his ear. ‘Can you think of any other theory that ties together what our killer did to the victim?’

Phinn gave him a withering look. ‘To mess with our heads? To throw us off the scent?’

‘Fair points, but why would he want to mess with our heads? And if he wanted to throw us off the scent, why didn’t he hide the body instead of setting it up on display?’

‘You’re giving me a theory, but you’re not giving me a motive. We know the how and the where. What we need to discover is the who and the why. Get one and you’ll get the other.’ Phinn scratched at his turkey neck while chewing on the inside of his lip. ‘So you think he’s trying to make a dragon?’

‘No, sir.’ Beth was back on her feet as she spoke. Even to her, what she was thinking was outlandish, but there was no escaping what the facts were pointing to when she lined them up and considered them as a whole. ‘I don’t think he’s trying to make a dragon. I think this is him just starting.’

‘And what, pray tell, makes you think this?’

‘The evidence, sir. The cuts to Angus’s back were made with near-surgical precision. The wings were to hand and were ready to be attached. The killer had the accelerant with him. The post he was attached to. The cable ties that held Angus to the cross member nailed to the post. That all speaks of preplanning to me. He was organised; I don’t believe for one second that killing his victim in that way was something the killer did on a momentary whim. I think it was his plan all along, and I think he’ll do it again.’

Phinn scratched at his jaw. ‘What you’re saying makes sense, but why are you so sure he’ll try again?’

‘Think about it, sir. From the moment the killer poured the accelerant down Angus’s throat and lit it, to the point where Angus died would only have been a few minutes at most. Possibly less than a minute. Our killer wanted to make a dragon. His dragon died. Maybe after only a couple of fiery breaths. I think our killer would have been disappointed to lose his dragon so quickly after all his planning. After all his anticipation, it would have been a massive anticlimax. He’ll still want to have a dragon. Therefore he’ll try again.’

Beth watched in trepidation as Phinn looked at Thompson then O’Dowd. Saw the two nods he got.

‘Right, Zoe, run with that theory. I’ll get you some extra bodies to interview the evacuees and former servicemen once you’ve identified them. I’ll also let you have the budget for a criminal psychologist.’ Phinn looked at Beth with a mixture of exasperation and respect. ‘I don’t know whether I hope you’re right or wrong, but that’s neither here nor there. What matters is catching the killer before he strikes again. Work whatever hours you need to, I’ll sign off on your overtime. I want this guy caught and caught soon. Do you understand me?’

Phinn didn’t wait for an answer, he just turned on his heel and marched out of the office.

Beth sank to her chair relieved at the way things had turned out. She knew exactly what Phinn meant: if she was right they had a heinous killer to catch before he killed again. Yet if she was wrong, they would waste a lot of precious time and resources on her theory.

She caught Thompson’s eye. ‘Thanks for backing me up.’

‘I didn’t back you up, Young Beth, I just happen to agree with your thinking.’

‘Either way, thanks.’

She turned her attention to the brochure she’d collected from Arthuret Hall and flicked through its pages until she found the name she was looking for. Two minutes later she was speaking to the secretary of a private school.