Firearms officers had the battering ram in position. ‘Three, two, one, go,’ the voice ordered. At the exact moment they rammed the door of the flat, the helicopter switched its siren and lights on. The door crashed open.

‘Armed police!’ The team leader was in front. ‘The building is surrounded. We are armed and ready to fire.’ They swarmed in, a parade of blue and black.

From inside the flat, a startled dog let out a series of rapid-fire barks.

I’d been told to wait for the all clear, so I stood back, with the paramedics, holding my breath, praying Abbie was still alive.

‘Get the dog. Someone get the bloody dog,’ the ARU team-leader yelled.

I strained my ears for shots inside the flat. Please may Abbie be safe. And we needed Kenny Hayes and his brother alive too.

‘I repeat. You’re surrounded. Stay where you are, both of you. Hands on your head. Against the wall.’

I held my breath.

Shouting.

A girl screamed.

‘Get off her. Taking your filthy hands off my daughter.’

His daughter?

The dog’s bark was like a machine gun.

‘Put your hands on your head, Mr Hayes. It’s all over. You are surrounded. Keep your hands where I can see them and send the girl over to me. NOW.’

There was a loud crash.

More screaming.

Then, ‘All clear. Over.’ The voice came through my earpiece. ‘Suspects apprehended. One minor, and we’ve got the girl. Repeat. The girl is alive, but she needs emergency treatment now. Send the paramedics in. Over.’

Thank goodness. We could finally bring Kenny and his brother to justice. We just had to hope that Abbie Turner wasn’t too far gone.

Maya, 12.30 p.m.

Maya, 12.30 p.m.

Back at the station, the atmosphere in the incident room was jubilant. Abbie Turner was alive – although critically ill in hospital – and we’d finally got Kenny Hayes and his brother in custody. But I couldn’t shift the feeling that several pieces of the jigsaw were missing. A succession of ideas paraded through my mind. We were fairly certain that Ali had meant to torch Rosa Feldman’s newsagent’s but set the soup shop on fire instead. We also believed that Kenny and his brother had killed Patrick Ryan and Ali Kousa. But we didn’t have a handle on what any of their motives were to complete the picture and assist with charging. Ali wasn’t alive to tell us, and Kenny Hayes was hardly going to cough unless it meant him worming out of culpability or reducing his likely sentence.

Jackie was waiting at my desk, looking elated. ‘We’ve got the van that Ryan was transported in.’

‘You’re kidding?’ I took my coat off and deposited my phone and keys on the desk.