Doggett looks at him closely, notes the cut on his head and the bandaged hand. “Time to piss off then. You can make a statement in the morning.”

“It is morning,” he says, but Doggett is already walking away.

The dog has given up its barking and is curled round the base of the lamppost, shivering, its head buried under gray paws. Paul Enfield returns and sees him staring at it. “I’ll get someone to take it to the rescue place,” he says.

“No, I’ll take it.”

“I think we should get you home. I’ll drive, get one of the lads to bring your car later.”

They stop at the twenty-four-hour pharmacy to get cream for his burns and some painkillers. The only other customers are meth heads waiting for their prescriptions. Tyler shows the pharmacist his neck. She winces and tells him to go to the hospital. Instead he makes Enfield stop at the twenty-four-hour Tesco so they can buy tins of dog food and a bowl.

When they get back to the flat, Enfield turns off the engine. “I’ll help you up.”

“I’m fine, really.”

“Let me help, Adam. Please.”

They have to coax the dog into the lift, where it immediately cocks its leg and pees up the mirrored wall. Great. He seems to spend half his life cleaning this lift. The keeping of pets is directly forbidden in his rental agreement. Once inside, the dog jumps up on the sofa, turns round a couple of times, and goes straight to sleep.

Tyler looks at the fire officer. Then he sighs, loads up his laptop, and shows him the blog. Paul Enfield fixes his eyes intently on the screen. They read the final entry together and Tyler lets out a breath of air.

After a short while Enfield asks, “How long have you known about this?”

“Since the evening before last.”

“For fuck’s sake, Adam!” It’s the first time he’s properly seen the man lose his temper.

“We didn’t want to scare him off by letting him know he’d been rumbled.” It seems wrong to blame Doggett.

“You mean you thought it might be me.”

Tyler says nothing.

“And you still do. So why now?”

“I guess because I’m suspended. It’s not like I can get into any more trouble. And I’m trusting you. I don’t want anyone else to die.”

Enfield nods. Tyler can still see the fury in the man’s eyes, but he holds his temper in check.

They spend some time discussing the various entries and what they might mean. Whoever this is, it’s clear they are damaged, and that the damage was caused in the first instance by Gerald Cartwright.

“Maybe we can trace the IP address,” Enfield says.

“We’ve got someone working on it.”