Alex and Chloe were once again heading up the valley; a journey that had become all too familiar to them during the past week. A swell of mountains loomed in the background, their green and brown bodies standing tall against a grey sky that promised rain. Rows of houses snaked at their feet like interweaving train tracks, with towns built in clusters in the curves of the hillsides. Alex imagined there was a certain brooding beauty about the place, but with murder lingering in its shadows it was impossible to see anything but darkness.

‘So the petrol used to start the fire at Doris Adams’s house was the same brand used at the hospital?’ Chloe confirmed.

Alex nodded. ‘And the same brand used during the attack on Corey Davies. The only thing that doesn’t match is the petrol used to start the fire at the Hassans’ shop.’ She slowed the car for a set of red traffic lights. ‘Guess who I got a call from last night?’

‘Go on.’

‘Gavin Jones.’

Chloe raised an eyebrow. ‘About?’

‘You know about Christian Coleman, do you?’

Chloe’s face was blank. She hadn’t been with them when Coleman had been poisoned; she had joined the team later, after a transfer from the Met. Her return to Wales had been motivated by a desire to discover the truth about her brother’s death years earlier, something she hadn’t told Alex until her investigations were already under way. It had put both women in a difficult situation, though for Chloe, events had gone on to be life-changing.

‘I’ve heard of him.’

Alex gave her a brief rundown of the story.

‘So where does Gavin Jones come into all this?’ Chloe asked.

‘He’s seeing Coleman’s ex-wife, the one he put in hospital. Gavin reckons he’s done it again.’

Chloe pulled a face. ‘Surely the police are already involved. Why’s he contacting you about it?’

Alex pulled the car up to the kerbside, stopping near the Hassan home. ‘You’d think so, but he says she’s refusing to report it. I think Gavin might be genuine about this wanting a fresh start business, for him and for Sian. He doesn’t need any more trouble at his door.’

The two women got out of the car, neither relishing the prospect of yet another visit to the Hassans. Alex imagined the reception they would receive would be less than welcoming. Sure enough, their presence was met with a succession of sighs and rolled eyes. Even Mahira Hassan, who had until then been patient and accommodating, was visibly exasperated.

‘Syed’s still not here,’ she said, stepping aside to allow the detectives into the house.

Alex produced the search warrant she’d had to fight for earlier that afternoon. The petrol can that Faadi had told Chloe about was evidence of nothing, but Alex had managed to persuasively argue that the fight between the Hassan brothers and Gavin Jones, followed by the arson at the shop, was sufficient motivation for Syed or Jameel to have sought revenge on Gavin. Had one of them taken the petrol can that was found near the attack on Corey Davies from Gavin’s shed, knowing his fingerprints would incriminate him in the attack?

And why was there another one in the Hassans’ garage? Gavin’s motorbike gave him justification for owning a petrol can. As far as Alex was aware, there was no reason for anyone in the Hassan household to have one.

‘We won’t be needing Syed,’ Alex said.

‘What now?’ Youssef appeared from the kitchen. He looked even more tired than he had when Alex and Chloe had last visited, and the dejection in his voice suggested he felt in some way defeated.

‘We have a warrant to search the premises, Mr Hassan.’

‘What? No, you can’t.’

Alex showed him the warrant. ‘We won’t be long. Could you show me to Syed’s bedroom please, Mrs Hassan.’

Youssef stepped in front of his wife, blocking her path to the stairs. ‘You have no right to be here,’ he said, firing the words at Alex. ‘My sons haven’t done anything wrong.’

‘Then you won’t mind us just checking their rooms,’ Chloe said.

‘Mr Hassan,’ Alex said. ‘I appreciate that we’re intruding on your time. You look tired. Long week at work?’

Youssef studied her accusingly, his dark eyes narrowed. ‘Yes. So if we could just get this over and done with.’

‘You work for a stationery company, is that right?’

Youssef looked from Alex to Chloe. ‘Yes, that’s right.’

Alex smiled. ‘Perhaps you could show me to Syed’s room?’

Knowing they would search the property with or without his say-so, Youssef sighed and began to head upstairs. Alex followed, leaving Chloe downstairs with Mahira. They passed Jameel’s bedroom and Alex glanced past the opened door; he was inside, sprawled face down on the bed watching a television that was turned up too loudly. He must have heard their voices in the hallway and their footsteps on the stairs, but he did nothing to acknowledge them.

Youssef stopped at the next door and hesitated for a moment. ‘What is it you think Syed has done?’

‘I can’t go into that, I’m afraid. Does he have access to a laptop or a computer here? We’ll need to take it.’

They still hadn’t found out where the skeleton fancy-dress outfit had been purchased. If Syed or Jameel was the person on the CCTV footage, there was a chance one of them had ordered the costume online. Alex believed Syed to be the more organised of the two brothers. Ideally, she needed his phone.

Without responding, Youssef opened the door to Syed’s bedroom, allowing Alex to enter. The room had been tidied, the bed made, and a pile of ironed clothes was waiting on top of a chest of drawers. Mahira had obviously been in here, Alex thought. Despite the events of the last week, she was clearly keen to maintain as much of a sense of normality and order as possible.

From Jameel’s bedroom, a mobile phone started to ring. Alex turned back and listened for the ringtone, but it was a generic tune that came with an iPhone. The tune stopped when he answered.

‘I’ll be okay from here,’ Alex said. ‘Thank you.’

Reluctantly, Youssef turned to leave, doing nothing to disguise the exhalation of breath that gave voice to his frustrations.

‘Mr Hassan,’ Alex said, stopping him. ‘One last thing. When are you planning on telling your wife you’ve lost your job?’