Norman sighs and gestures for them to come inside the office. He points them towards an ancient monitor and keyboard, images playing out in front of them, flicking from one scene to the next every few seconds. He clicks quickly, and the screen changes to a directory of files.

‘Knock yourself out,’ he says. ‘Now, if you would be so kind…’

He leaves, the door slamming loudly behind him.

‘What a charmer,’ Mina says, as her phone starts ringing. She holds it up so Freya can see the screen. Josh again. Mina rolls her eyes and answers it.

As Mina speaks to Josh, Freya cracks on, looking through the various CCTV files. There are three cameras – one each for the two platforms, and one showing the outside, looking away from the station building. She selects yesterday’s date, then scrolls through the video, the timestamp clicking round as the day progresses.

Mina sits down next to her.

‘He’s pissed we’re taking so long,’ she says.

‘What did he expect?’ Freya replies. ‘Here, this is last night.’

They both squint at the screen. As with the CCTV from Riverside, they can see the wind gathering speed, rain starting to pour as the storm takes hold. Mina points.

‘What do you think? That guy there?’

It’s the first image they’ve seen of the victim alive. He’s the only one out in the storm, walking slowly, arms wrapped around his body. It’s clear he’s wearing just a few thin clothes, with no coat to protect him from the rain. He sits down in the doorway of the station building, taking shelter.

Then Freya watches as Norman charges out through the double doors and strides up to him, arms waving wildly. He points away from the building. The man gets up slowly and Norman stands with his hands on his hips, watching him shuffling off into the night.

‘What a dick,’ Mina whispers. ‘Where was this guy supposed to go, in weather like that?’

Freya frowns as the man disappears out of shot.

‘That’s exactly what we need to find out,’ she replies.

11

Finn looks very small in his hospital bed. Robin watches him through the glass panel in the door of his single room, as Josie sits next to him. He looks more himself – wearing a spare pair of glasses, cleaned up and less bloody – and Robin has an abrupt thought that everything is normal, that this is a normal visit to see his friend, in normal circumstances.

But then the uniform standing guard next to him hands back his warrant card. ‘You’re cleared to go in,’ he says, giving him a long look.