He walks over to us. ‘We’re still figuring that out. It was deliberately set, though. It appears as though the interior was burgled before the fire began.’

Closer now, it doesn’t look so bad – a coat of paint, replace the glass and furniture. Another insurance claim. I’ll have to find an alternative space until it’s all repaired, which probably won’t be for a while, not until the monstrous bureaucratic cogs of insurance claims start moving. My mind runs through the inventory: all of the files, office supplies, furniture, petty cash – it’s all replaceable except for the client notes.

‘Is it bad inside?’ I ask. Wind rushes up the street, tousling my hair and chilling me to my core.

‘It was confined mostly to this front area,’ he says, pointing. ‘But that’s probably a question for the firefighters.’

‘Sure,’ I say.

Gabe speaks up. ‘Any idea who did it?’

‘Not at this stage, although most of the shops on this street will have CCTV, so hopefully we will get a clear image of the perpetrator.’

Joe was following my patients, Xanthe is missing, Cormac’s sister is missing … What if Joe is trying to find one of my other patients? The fire at the house was started in my home office. What if he had broken in there first, looking for something? What if he lit the fire to hide his tracks? The police and firefighters are going to lock me out of here, just like they locked us out of our home. I won’t have a chance to really see what is missing. Suddenly I’m rushing towards the building. Towards the knot of firefighters at the entrance. A hand grabs my forearm but I snatch it off and rush through the front door.

‘Stop,’ a voice says. ‘Don’t go in there.’

But I’m already inside, ducking the yellow tape. The acrid chemical tang stings my nostrils and the roof is dripping water, steam rising from where the carpet had been. I can still feel the heat of the fire. I rush through the door into my office. The flames didn’t get through from the front but the chairs have been flipped, the drawers pulled out. Boots thump behind me, but I know exactly where I am going. I get to the filing cabinet in the corner and wrench it open. My heart drops. There’s nothing there. Someone has taken the files. I search my desk, opening drawers, and realise my pen is gone. The Mont Blanc from my father with the inscription. Introspection is always retrospection. The firefighter snatches me back so hard I think my arm will pop out of the socket. He grabs me by the waist and drives me out of the building. What were you searching for, Joe?

‘What the hell are you thinking?’ someone yells. Gabe is there, leaning over me.