And it all went downhill from there. Not long after release, he was back in again. Breaking and entering, this time. Nothing since, but it’s not hard for Freya to see how Thorpe’s life had gone off the rails.

Dave looks back out into the dining hall, thinking. He sighs. ‘Duncan came here more often than not. We don’t allow alcohol or drug-taking on the premises, so I wouldn’t know for sure, but I believe drink was his problem. Plus, I know he experienced flashbacks, traumatic memories. I would often see him wandering the halls here at night, unable to sleep.’ His face turns downwards. ‘So, I’d guess there was some pretty serious PTSD. Undiagnosed, of course, but when you’ve seen it so many times…’ He shrugs. A caring man, worn down with helplessness. ‘When did you say he was found?’

‘Wednesday morning. After the storm.’

He nods grimly. ‘We were rammed that night. Nobody wanted to be outdoors. We only have so many beds.’

Mina places a reassuring hand on Dave’s arm. ‘You can’t help everyone.’

Dave looks down, his face miserable. ‘Yeah, but Duncan was one of the ones that stood a chance. If he’d had the support he needed, he might have been okay.’ He looks up, watery eyes meeting Freya’s. ‘He might still be alive.’

Mina and Freya walk out of the shelter, back into the warm spring day.

‘All those people,’ Mina says as they wander back to the car. ‘But for the grace of God, you know?’

Freya nods. They spot a Costa Coffee on the far side of the street and head towards it.

‘We get all sorts of shit, day in, day out,’ Mina continues. ‘No normal person should see the number of dead bodies we have. We’ve all been called out on deployments we can’t forget when we get home. There’s a thin line between looking after our mental health so we can continue to do our jobs every day, and ending up like one of those guys.’

They stand in the queue at the coffee shop in silence. Freya thinks about the nights alone when she can’t sleep. The images of Amy Miller in her dreams. The guilt of what she did, gnawing at her insides.

‘What would you do, Mina, if you felt like that?’

Mina puts in their order, adding a coffee for Josh. She turns back to Freya as she pays. ‘Speak to someone. Straight away. The more it festers, the worse it gets.’ She takes their drinks, handing one to Freya, and they walk towards the exit. ‘I saw a counsellor after that shooting, do you remember?’ Freya shakes her head. ‘The guy with the shotgun. Blew his head off in front of me when I was a PC.’

They both get into the car.

‘Did it help?’ Freya asks, fastening her seat belt.