Day revolves into evening. Lights are turned on, curtains closed. Nurses tend to Finn. He gets worse, at one point throwing up in a bowl. He tries to sleep, but he’s restless and irritable. A doctor comes in, talks about doing more tests, but can’t offer any more in terms of prognosis. He mumbles something about the psychiatrist coming by in the morning.

Josie tells Robin to leave.

‘I’ll stay,’ she says. ‘This chair’s comfy enough for me.’ He tries to persuade her to come with him, but he knows his attempts are futile. Sandra has reserved him a room in the local Travelodge, and he heads there.

He checks into the hotel, slumping down on the bed as soon as he gets inside his room. He rubs his eyes. He needs to get some sleep. But first he needs to know what’s going on.

Robin calls DI Craig’s number, but gets no response. He tries again, leaving a voicemail. Eventually, she calls back: brief and to the point.

‘Forensics are still going over the van, Butler,’ she says. ‘The body’s been taken away. Have they done his MHA?’

Mental Health Assessment. Standard procedure for anyone threatening suicide. Finn needs to be cleared prior to being deemed fit to detain or even be interviewed by the police. ‘He has bigger problems than that, Craig,’ Robin replies. ‘His memory’s gone.’

‘What’s he saying?’

‘Nothing coherent. He just seems out of it. Sometimes he can’t understand what we’re saying, or he acts like he doesn’t hear us at all.’

Finn asked a few more times about Simon Sharp, but Josie and Robin continued to be evasive. At one point Finn dropped back even further in his mind, talking about needing to leave, to get ready for the storm. None of it made sense.

‘Have they found a murder weapon?’ Robin asks.

A pause. He knows Craig is reluctant to share. ‘Yes,’ she says at last. ‘A penknife, a posh one. Seems to be Sharp’s – has his initials engraved on the side. The main blade was out. It’s with forensics now.’

Robin sighs and ends the call. He knows it’s only a matter of time before the results come back. There’ll be biologicals, fingerprints – something – tying Finn to that murder. He remembers the bloody crime scene. Simon Sharp’s body lying on the floor, his neck slashed to pieces. Whatever had gone on in there had been violent and nasty.

He calls Baker next, aware that he’s been missing his calls all day. His DCI answers instantly, his tone direct.

‘What’s the update, Butler?’

‘Sorry to call you so late, guv,’ Robin begins.

‘Cut the crap, Robin,’ Baker interrupts. ‘You know I’m still working. When are you coming back?’