Gabriel said nothing. Racially motivated, yes. But working alone?

She looked back at the top of the ride, poking out from the tangled fingers of winter trees over her left shoulder. For a moment she allowed herself a glimmer of imagination and she put herself in its seats less than three hours ago. Trapped, unable to lift the restraint and with Fletcher approaching them. A vivid sense of fear, of powerlessness and panic engulfed her. This was truly the stuff of horror movies. It was too much, and Gabriel hurriedly bolted the doors of her imagination. The luxury of empathy would have to come later when she had the time to process these events.

She walked towards the park manager, a pallid man in his early fifties wearing a shabby suit who restlessly tapped his fingers against his thigh as he spoke. It was an irritating tic that drew Gabriel’s eyes every few minutes.

‘How long before I can let the families go home?’ he wittered. ‘I’ve got head office coming up in thirty minutes and we need to know whether we can reopen tomorrow and what we can say to the press.’

Gabriel gave him a withering look.

‘Tell you what, Mr…’ She leaned forward deliberately to read his name badge, allowing her nose to get uncomfortably close to his sweaty face. ‘Mr Foster, you can let them go when I say you can let them go. In the meantime, make sure they get food and some space. I noticed the families have yet to be offered any proper hospitality. Not much to ask given that one of your employees has just wiped out a significant number of their nearest and dearest, is it?’

The manager fell silent. Campbell looked uncomfortable. Oh, Campbell. You’re too nice for this job, thought Gabriel.

‘Let’s focus on what’s important, shall we? What can you tell me about Fletcher?’ said Gabriel.

‘Of course,’ said the manager, flicking through a folder. ‘Been with us for two months, good references, no absences and punctual. Bit of a loner.’

‘Kept himself to himself, did he?’ asked Gabriel.

‘Exactly. But no complaints from staff or customers. He didn’t have any particular friends, but Lisa, the girl he worked with, said—’

‘Woman,’ interrupted Gabriel.

‘I’m sorry?’

‘I assume that she was over eighteen, so she wasn’t a girl, was she?’

‘Er, no,’ said the manager, flustered. ‘Lisa, the woman he worked with, said he was pleasant enough.’

‘Any signs of extreme or odd views?’ asked Campbell. ‘Any complaints of anti-Semitism? Islamophobia? Racism?’

‘Of course not,’ said the manager with indignation. ‘We take our responsibilities seriously. We’re an inclusive company.’

‘I’m sure you are,’ said Gabriel. The word inclusive was her current pet hate. It was a meaningless buzzword, like sustainable or diversity, trotted out as a virtue-signalling exercise.

‘Did he have a locker?’ asked Campbell.

‘Of course, I’ll take you to it now.’

The locker, in a corridor alongside the staff canteen, was empty aside from a copy of last week’s Daily Herald and a half-drunk litre bottle of Coke. Gabriel lifted up the newspaper with a cautious finger, letting it drop with a slap.