He had to resist slamming the door on the way out. At a set of fire doors, he gave in to the urge, but the hinges were hydraulic and he might as well have tried to slam the door through water.

In the lift he fired Nicky a text – We’re on our own – and as he glared at the screen waiting for Nicky’s reply, his phone vibrated in his hand. Randolph Green, read the caller ID, and after checking he had enough signal, Fleet swiped to answer the pathologist’s call.

‘Randy?’

‘Rob. Can you talk?’

‘Randy, it’s … it’s not a good time. And I’m probably just about to lose reception. Can I call you back when I get to the car?’

‘Do that. I’ll wait by the phone. But make it quick, Rob. You’re going to want to hear this as soon as possible.’

Ben – March 1997

(Two months before his death)

Ben was tucked away in a corner of the library, a sheet of paper and a book on the history of Beaconsfield spread out on the table before him. He’d been sketching an image of the old chapel, the one that had burned down in the fire, and that had stood near the graveyard he’d visited with Callum and the others. The old building hadn’t been as grand as the new one, but to Ben’s eye it was prettier, like the contrast between a parish church and a cathedral.

‘That’s pretty good,’ said a voice, and Ben gave a start. He’d been so involved in what he was doing, he hadn’t noticed Callum approach.

‘Oh, thanks, I …’ Ben tried to cover the piece of paper with his hands, but Callum reached across and pulled it free. He sat down on the seat next to Ben’s, so close that their knees were touching, and held up the drawing in front of him.

‘More than pretty good, actually,’ he said.

Ben flushed – half with embarrassment, half with pride. He never showed anyone his drawings, least of all Callum. Ben would have thought Callum would consider drawing stupid. Or not stupid, as such. Inconsequential.

Callum set the drawing to one side. ‘So, how’s everything going?’

Ben blinked. ‘Fine. I guess. I mean …’

‘Because I heard what happened this morning.’

Callum had been smiling pleasantly, and even though the shape of his lips didn’t change, his eyes, always pale, turned cold.

‘This morning?’ said Ben.

Callum waited.

‘Oh, you mean in the physics lab. It was no big deal. I mean, I guess I might have overreacted, but—’

‘Overreacted,’ Callum echoed. The smile fell from his face. ‘You started a fight.’