There was another scream, and Fleet whipped his head around just in time to see a second section of the chapel’s roof begin to cave in. A flaming piece of debris broke loose, and when it landed on the ground in front of the chapel doors, it exploded in a shower of sparks. As far as Fleet could tell, nobody was hurt, but as he checked around to make sure, he spotted a figure standing alone amid the turmoil. It was the headmaster, Adrian Harris. He seemed mesmerised by the flames, and was clearly far too close to the burning chapel. His robes were twisted and misaligned, as though he’d been caught in the press of people as they’d rushed to escape the burning building. And though he stood as tall and straight as he always did, there seemed something about him that was broken.

With Bevan beside him, Fleet set off towards him, weaving his way through the throng. Even though he was heading downhill, it felt like he was wading upstream.

‘Mr Harris!’ Fleet called as they drew near. This close to the chapel, the heat was like a physical mass. The flames crackled and roared, completely smothering the shouts and yells of the people who were stumbling up the hill.

‘Mr Harris!’

It was only when Fleet was right on top of him that the headmaster finally turned. He appeared dazed, like someone who wasn’t sure whether he was awake or asleep.

‘Detective Inspector? What … what’s happening? The chapel … the school …’

Harris turned, shifting his glassy gaze from the pyre before him to the main building, ablaze at the top of the slope. Fleet hauled him back from the flames to a safer distance further up the hill. The headmaster was still trying to look at the chapel, and Fleet spun him round.

‘Where is he, Mr Harris? Look at me, Mr Harris! You need to tell me where he is.’

‘But … I don’t … I don’t know who—’

‘I know you lied,’ said Fleet, cutting the headmaster off. ‘You lied to me about not knowing about the crypt. And you lied to Father Steiner. Nobody ever came to inspect the site, did they? You didn’t want anyone investigating the subsidence in the chapel because you were scared about what they might find.’

The headmaster could only stare, and it was all Fleet could do to resist seizing the man by his lapels and giving him a shake.

Instead, he edged closer. ‘When Father Steiner first came to you about the cracks, you told him someone had looked into it before he’d even joined the school. And then, when he pushed for the matter to be investigated again years later, you pretended to take care of it. But you never arranged for either survey, did you? You didn’t dare. Because by the time the chaplain first came to you, you’d already helped bury Ben’s body.’