‘Why?’

‘Aren’t you going to need it? With the . . .’

‘You can say “fire”.’

Jessica was becoming annoyed by the way everyone skirted around the issue. After emerging from the shower the previous evening, finally clean of the soot and smoke, she had resolved to get on with sorting things out and, regardless of what Cole said, finding out who had tried to kill her.

‘Sorry . . .’

‘And stop apologising!’ Andrew seemed suitably chastened and Jessica felt bad about raising her voice. ‘Shall we start the conversation again?’ she suggested.

Andrew offered his hand across the desk and they shook. ‘I still don’t want your money,’ he said.

‘Why?’

‘Honestly? I don’t need it. You might not believe it given the state of this place, your broken chair and the fact I come to work each day – but I’ve got money. I could stay at home and live off it if I wanted. I’m not massively rich but I could get by if I invested it sensibly and lived off the interest.’

Jessica was stunned by his revelation. For the first time, she properly eyed Andrew’s appearance. When she had first seen him at the scene of Sienna’s death, she had thought he was so plain, she would struggle to remember what he looked like. That was still true but he did have something appealing about him too, although it was hard to pinpoint what. He had sand-coloured hair that was cut short and had been left to fall in no discernible style. His clothes seemed too tight and his suit certainly wasn’t an expensive one given the way it was cut.

Andrew must have noticed her interest because he smiled – and Jessica knew what it was that made him stand out. It was when he grinned or joked. Unlike most people, he only seemed to show the beam on one half of his face. The right side of his mouth would crinkle upwards, the left unmoving. It was an odd yet strangely attractive feature.

‘It’s not that hard to believe, is it?’ he added.

‘Did you win the lottery or something?’

Andrew laughed again. ‘I wish it was that simple. It’s complicated but, because you’ve got bigger things to worry about, let’s just say I was married, now I’m not. I just have money instead – that’s why I don’t need yours. Whatever you want doing, it’s fine.’

‘Can I ask a question?’

‘Go on but I didn’t kill her, if that’s what you’re wondering.’

Jessica laughed. ‘No, but at least you think like one of us. I was wondering why you haven’t got a better bloody chair over here if you have money.’

It was Andrew’s turn to snigger. ‘Money I’ve got. I’m just lazy. Sometimes I think I’d rather this all fell through so I could just stay at home. Maybe I don’t really want clients? I have no idea.’

Jessica thought about his reply for a few moments. ‘That’s pretty honest.’

Andrew shrugged dismissively.

‘Would you like to hear about my morning?’ Jessica asked.

Andrew leant forward slightly, offering the half-smile she now associated with him. When he replied ‘go on’, she felt a tingle of relief she only partly understood. He was largely a stranger but she could see something behind his eyes that she felt herself. It was probably because she now knew him in the context of something happening with his ex-wife. As he’d mentioned that he had previously been married, she had seen in his face that he was still in love with whoever the woman was. She could understand wanting to hide emotions through work.

‘It’s been pretty shitty to be honest,’ Jessica said, feeling her voice croak before correcting herself. ‘This morning I had to phone my parents to tell them I was fine. They live in Cumbria so luckily don’t get the papers or the same news as us. Before I’d even finished talking, my mum had jumped on the Internet and seen the pictures. They wouldn’t believe that I was fine. I think my dad already had the car keys in his hand to come down before I managed to talk them around.’

‘That’s good though, right?’

‘Oh yeah, I didn’t mean it like that. I see all sorts of shite mums and dads and people who couldn’t care less about their kids. Mine are amazing. It was just that moment in their voice where you tell them something bad has happened. It’s like you’re breaking their hearts. I hated it.’

‘My parents loved my wife . . . ex-wife . . . Keira. I don’t think they’ve ever come to terms with us not being together any more.’

Jessica wondered if she should ask what happened but Andrew stared at her, clearly expecting her to finish explaining her day. ‘That was just the first thing I did,’ she continued. ‘Then I had to go to the house. Have you any idea what it’s like to go to a burned-out house?’

‘No, I never went to Harley’s.’

‘It’s just . . . horrible. There are these fire investigators who first check the scene. They had already decided it was started deliberately and then you’re allowed back onto the site. One of the fire guys escorted me around. I don’t know if they do it for everyone or if it’s just because it was me. It’s everything you can imagine but worse. Everything’s black, even the bits that aren’t burned, because of the smoke. You see fragments of your things, part-burned, part-not. It’s not even those items that you think about – it’s the memories that come with them.’

‘Was there much left?’

‘Unbelievably, most of the things in our bedroom. It sounds stupid but I keep my phone charger next to the bed and you wouldn’t have known anything had happened. Most of Adam’s clothes are fine. Some of mine. A lot of the things we might need day-to-day are all right. Some of them are smoke-damaged but the ceiling didn’t collapse and the guy said it was lucky we lived in a house built just after the war.’

‘Why?’

‘He says the new homes have thin walls and thinner doors. That the fire just goes straight through it. Either way, I’ve got a carful of clothes. It was lucky I left my car keys in a pocket, else they would have been downstairs too.’

‘Where are you going to stay? I might . . . ?’

Jessica didn’t know what he was going to offer but she waved her hand. ‘I’ve sorted it. One of my friends, Caroline, she’s got this place on the Quays. She broke up with her husband and it’s up for sale but it’s empty for now. I’m going there after here to dump everything.’

‘That’s nice of her.’

‘Well that’s what I’ve realised this morning. It was horrible being at the house but, beyond that, people are bloody good. I’ve had my mum offering to drive a few hundred miles just to give me a cuddle. My mate’s letting us stay in her flat for free. I spoke to one of my colleagues who is on maternity leave. She was telling me I could have all her clothes because they don’t fit anyway. She practically ordered me to come over for tea. She’s got a baby to be looking after but she was going to do that anyway. My phone’s not stopped going all morning – it’s a bloody good job I found that charger. Sometimes I think I forget that people are generally pretty decent. I just end up dealing with most of the shits.’

‘So what do you do now?’ Jessica started to reply but couldn’t stop another coughing fit charging through her. Andrew handed her a tissue as she doubled over. Unable to stop herself, she checked it afterwards, seeing more flecks of black and spots of blood.

‘Are you okay?’ he asked.

Jessica nodded but only answered the first question. ‘Now? Now I have to sit around. I spoke to my DCI too. He told me he doesn’t want to see me for at least a week and, even then, assuming they haven’t solved it by then, I won’t be working on the case about who burned down the house and whether it’s connected to the other ones – including Harley’s.’

‘Why?’

‘Policy? I don’t know. I told him I’d speak to the superintendent and he said he already had – and that they were in agreement. I said I’d go to the chief constable but he’d done that too. Aside from the Home Secretary, there’s not much else I can do. Basically, that’s it. Unless he changes his mind, I’m off for six more days and then I go back as if nothing’s happened.’