‘A month,’ the boy replies, and Freya’s disappointed, although she expected as much. ‘I remember that accident, though. The car that caught fire?’ Freya nods. ‘It was all anyone talked about round here. Some people say they heard the boom when the petrol tank blew.’

The side door opens, and an older man shuffles through. He has a stick in his hand, and a shock of grey hair sticking up at the back of his head. He smiles, and Freya can see the similarities between him and his grandson.

‘She wants to know about the car accident,’ the kid says.

‘She?’ The old man directs to the teenager. ‘Go and get us a coffee,’ he says and the boy goes without question. The man holds out his hand to Freya. ‘Thomas Kinnaman, and you are?’

‘DC Freya West,’ she replies as she shakes his hand. His skin is dry and papery, but his grip firm. ‘Do you remember that day?’

The old man invites Freya to the other side of the cash desk, and settles himself on a wooden chair. ‘Not much happens round here, could hardly forget. The man came in, you know?’

‘He did?’ Freya’s surprised; she doesn’t remember reading it in the report.

‘Yeah. Nice bloke. I thought you lot would visit, but you never did.’

‘You didn’t call them?’ Freya asks. ‘They were looking for witnesses.’

‘I left a message, no one phoned back. Reporters caught on though, spoke to a few of them. I looked up the records. He bought a bottle of Coke and a Ginsters, plus a full tank. Paid for it on his credit card.’

‘How did he seem?’

‘Not drunk, if that’s what you’re asking.’ The grandson comes back in with two mugs. He holds one out to Freya and she takes it. It looks weak and milky, but it’s hot and caffeinated so Freya doesn’t argue. The grandson settles back behind the till, staring at his phone.

‘I read the reports in the paper, and I was surprised at the time,’ the man continues. ‘We had a quick chat about the rain, then off he went. And believe me, I’ve seen my fair share of guys that shouldn’t be driving. Called the cops on a few. But he wasn’t one of them.’

He takes a sip from his coffee. ‘Ah, that’s better,’ he murmurs appreciatively. ‘Did you ever track down the others?’

‘Sorry?’ Freya frowns.

‘The other people that were here at the same time. A woman and a man, married couple, I think. And a squaddie, I heard them talking. Said he was in the army.’

‘What did they look like?’ she asks, trying to contain her enthusiasm.

‘Woman was…’ Kinnaman pauses, then shakes his head so furiously his jowls wobble. ‘Nope, can’t remember. We get so many folks through here. That was a long time ago.’