Still out of breath, the PC shook her head. ‘No, sir. We … we’re all OK. But the chapel … it just went up. One moment everyone was singing, the next they were screaming. But we think … we think everybody’s out. Shari, Frank, Charlie … they’re just making sure it’s clear.’

She pointed back down the hill, and Fleet saw the three officers he’d yet to account for emerging from the chapel. One was helping an older man who was doubled over, coughing. There was no telling if he was the last of the congregation to emerge, but Fleet had to hope there was nobody else trapped inside.

‘Good work,’ Fleet told the PC, ‘all of you. But no one’s to go back inside that building. Is that understood?’ Even as he spoke, there was a sound like distant thunder, and when Fleet, Bevan and the PC turned back to face the chapel, they were just in time to see a section of the roof near the base of the spire cave in. More than a few people in the crowd screamed.

The PC swallowed. ‘That’s affirmative, sir.’

The other officers were drawing closer, and Bevan waved them over.

Fleet looked behind him at the school, and though the fire in the main building still seemed to be contained to the southern wing, if the chapel was anything to go by, it wouldn’t take long for the flames to spread.

He turned back to the uniforms as they fell in before him. ‘You two,’ he said, gesturing to the first PC he’d spoken to and the woman beside her, ‘head round to the front of the main building. Make sure everyone gets back beyond the trees. And you two’ – he indicated the remaining two officers – ‘focus on trying to clear this side of the grounds.’

Faces blackened by the smoke from the chapel, and with sweat pouring down their brows, the officers nodded their understanding. The man one of them had been helping was managing to make his own way towards the front of the school. Most of the other civilians seemed to be drifting in the same direction, but there were still far too many people caught between the chapel and the main building.

Fleet clapped his hands. ‘Let’s get moving.’

Bevan spun away as the PCs did, clearly meaning to help corral the crowd, but Fleet grabbed his arm and pulled him back.

‘Not you, Sean.’ Fleet cast around, scanning the faces around him. ‘You and I are going to find the man who did this.’

Ben – May 1997

(The day of his death)

Ben froze.

Cold at first, the initial sensation of the blade against his neck was soon displaced by the warmth of a trickle of blood.

‘What … what are you doing?’ Ben said. ‘Callum, please … I said I’d do it! I’ll do anything you want!’