Helen Collier, head pathologist at the University Hospital of Wales in Cardiff, ushered Alex into the sterile lab. What remained of the fire victim was laid out on the steel examination table beneath a clinical white sheet that temporarily hid the horrors of what had once been a living, breathing human being. Alex had mentally prepared herself for the sights and smells that awaited her at the lab, though she knew nothing could ever really ready her. In her eighteen-year career with the police, she had been exposed to the most brutal effects of the most heinous of crimes: she had seen bodies bruised and battered; stabbed, drowned and tortured. She had seen burns victims before, although nothing quite like this one. It had been barely recognisable as a corpse at all, and she assumed dental records would prove the only method of identifying it.

‘You don’t need me to tell you,’ Helen said, ‘but this isn’t pretty.’

Helen was small and bird-like, and her soft voice contrasted with everything the room represented. Alex had wondered previously why the woman had chosen this particular career path, although she assumed the same question could be asked about her own choice of job. There was a quiet life waiting somewhere for her, she was sure of it, but it didn’t look set to ever find her. Perhaps she would only choose to shun it if it did.

‘The fire was started post mortem,’ Helen said. ‘I suppose we can be thankful that he wasn’t burned alive.’

‘He?’

Helen nodded. ‘You ready?’

She pulled the sheet back from the body. The victim looked gruesomely recognisable in his prone position upon the steel table. His chest had been cut open and his internal organs removed; his blackened flesh cracked and fallen away like ashes.

‘Bodies tend to assume a certain position when they’re burned prior to death, but it was evident at the scene that this wasn’t the case here. He was lying flat, outstretched, his arms by his sides rather than lifted in the way that might be expected if he’d been burned while still alive. In those cases, victims tend to adopt a pugilistic stance, with the arms raised and fists clenched.’

Alex waited to hear where Helen’s explanation was leading. She was still trying to block out the awful smell that emanated from the remains of the victim.

‘The blood test determined a low carboxyhaemoglobin level.’

‘He didn’t breathe anything in?’

Helen shook her head. ‘I’d say categorically that he died before the fire was started. He had sustained a number of injuries before death – fractured collarbone, broken wrist, several cracked ribs.’

‘Any of them old injuries,’ Alex asked, ‘or are we talking shortly before death?’

‘I’d say he endured a prolonged and vicious assault not long before he died.’

Alex forced herself to look again at the nameless body laid bare before her. Had this man gone to the hospital alone and been followed there, or had someone gone with him? Had the fire been started in an attempt to conceal the crime?

‘His face,’ she said. ‘Injuries there too?’

Helen nodded. ‘Definitely, although the fire has made it difficult to differentiate between the inflicted injuries and the cracking of the skin caused by the extreme heat.’

‘So what are we looking at?’ Alex asked, thinking out loud. ‘He was beaten to death before his body was set on fire?’

‘Not necessarily beaten to death.’ Helen moved to the table and pulled the sheet back over the body, seemingly in an attempt to spare Alex any further gruesome details. The effort was made in vain: once she had seen something, it stayed with her indefinitely. Until the person responsible was identified and made to face justice for their crime, she wouldn’t allow the images to leave her. Even then, she always knew she would never truly be free of them.

‘Analysis of the lung tissue found that the man suffered from restrictive lung disease,’ Helen continued. ‘There was considerable scarring to the tissue. In basic terms, he would have struggled to get enough air into his lungs during times of stress or exertion. His liver shows evidence of long-term alcohol abuse. It’s all in the report,’ she said, gesturing to a file waiting on the far worktop near the lab’s computer. ‘I’ve emailed you a copy as well. My estimation would be that the assault brought on a panic attack and the victim struggled to inhale sufficient oxygen to survive it.’

Alex’s mind was running into overdrive. She would need the report from the fire-scene investigators before drawing any conclusions, but a picture of their victim and the moments leading up to the start of the fire was beginning to emerge.

‘Any idea of his age?’ she asked, thinking back to the trainer that had been found at the scene.

‘It’s quite difficult to establish an age in this case,’ Helen admitted, ‘but the condition of the lungs and heart would suggest somewhere between forty and sixty. I’m sorry I can’t be more specific.’

Alex shook her head, acknowledging the apology but dismissing it as unnecessary. At least they now had somewhere to start looking on the missing persons database, although the faster her brain worked, the more she suspected any attempt to identify their victim in this way would still prove fruitless. There were too many missing people and the description they had so far was too broad.

And perhaps their man wasn’t on the system. Not everyone who went missing was reported as such. Some people were just lost.