Jessica heard the car approaching before she saw it. She turned to see a large grey vehicle screech on to the driveway and accelerate past them before squealing to a stop close to the fire engines and police cars. She saw the various officers jump to attention almost as one and, without knowing what he looked like, Jessica had no doubts the man who got out of the car was Harley Todd.

Jessica quickened her pace with Rowlands by her side, as Harley ignored the officers who were trying to talk to him. Jessica didn’t realise how tall he was until she got closer to him. He was definitely over six feet tall and, even from the back, she could see he was in pretty good shape. His suit appeared to be custom-fitted, tightly hugging his waist. She would have guessed it cost a lot of money but Harley didn’t seem to care. He stood in the rain staring at the property, watching a thin plume of smoke rise into the air.

As they saw her approach, the other officers parted, almost as if Jessica was the welcoming committee. She suspected the truth was that none of them wanted to speak first.

‘Mr Todd?’ Jessica asked quietly but the man didn’t flinch. She circled around his car, pushing the driver’s door closed, and continued until she was standing in front of him slightly off to one side. She could see the raindrops dribbling down Harley’s face, his eyes wide in disbelief. ‘Mr Todd?’ Jessica asked again.

The man mumbled a ‘yes’ without moving his eyes from the house.

‘I’m Detective Sergeant Daniel. Would you like to come and sit with me somewhere dry?’ Jessica spoke gently, placing an arm on his shoulder and finally drawing the man’s eyes towards her.

‘I . . . I don’t know what to do,’ he stammered.

Jessica gripped his upper arm and motioned for him to turn around. Slowly, he followed as she led him towards the back of a police van. Rowlands had stopped trying to protect his hair with his jacket and he walked quickly ahead of them, opening the rear doors and holding them for Jessica and Harley to step inside. Most of the vans in the police fleet were used to transport prisoners but this one had seats that ran lengthways and was used to take officers to wherever they were needed at speed.

A line of small white spot lamps were fitted to the ceiling and Rowlands walked around to the front of the vehicle to turn them on as Harley sat on one side with Jessica opposite. She leant against the inside of the van, thinking of how long it seemed since she had been in the rear of a van with Martin Chadwick. Harley hunched forward, using one hand to support his head. Rowlands joined them shortly after, sitting next to Jessica. She could feel the dampness of his suit on the back of her hand as he brushed against her.

‘I’m sure I didn’t leave anything on . . .’ Harley said, tailing off.

Jessica didn’t know for sure whether it had been started deliberately but it seemed too much of a coincidence for it to be accidental. ‘We have people who will look into what started it,’ she replied.

‘I just . . . my daughter . . . and now . . .’ Harley stared at Jessica but she didn’t think he was really looking at her. His hair, which appeared to have been heavily backcombed at some point, was now flat and damp.

‘Get a blanket,’ Jessica told Rowlands quietly. She knew there would be one somewhere on one of the fire engines.

As he climbed out of the vehicle, Jessica leant over to touch Harley’s hand. ‘I have to ask this,’ she said delicately. ‘Do you know someone who might have a grudge against you?’

His eyes drifted into focus and Jessica could tell he was now looking at her properly. ‘Like who?’ he asked.

Jessica said nothing in reply, not knowing what she could tell a man who had lost his daughter and property within a week of each other.

15

Jessica had not got anything of any real note from Harley Todd, mainly as he was in shock. She left uniformed officers to make sure he was all right, one of whom would take a formal statement at some point. She suspected it would not happen until the following morning at the earliest.

As she left the house, Jessica first checked with Reynolds and then called Bootle Street Police Station to tell them there was no reason to continue to hold Anthony Thompson. She told them he might argue he wanted to stay in so he could keep a roof over his head but he was too difficult to read. Most people would simply go home but Anthony was anything but normal.

She had only wanted him kept in to see if he might have anything else for them in the morning but, given what had happened, there was no way she would have time to return to see him for a few days.

In the morning briefing, Cole had received a provisional verdict from the investigating fire officer. As with the blaze at the Chadwicks’ house, the officer believed some sort of accelerant – most likely petrol – had been used to start the fire at Harley Todd’s house. The rain had helped put out the flames but wasn’t helping with preserving the crime scene, so the chief inspector told Jessica there would be no formal verdict for a while. Either way, she didn’t doubt that the two blazes were connected. Cole and Reynolds seemed less sure. Jessica thought about revealing the drawings Aidan had passed her of Ryan’s but Reynolds’s words about her growing obsession were stuck in her mind.

The other thing that wasn’t helping was that the media had got hold of the story that the man whose daughter had committed suicide days earlier had now lost his home to fire. Their details were sketchy but the Manchester Morning Herald’s website in particular had pictures, with the rest of the news media – including television – also reporting from the scene. The Herald’s late edition led with the headline ‘TWISTED FIRESTARTER’, which wasn’t exactly helpful.

Jessica excused herself from the meeting as her phone rang, with Andrew Hunter’s name appearing on the screen. ‘Sergeant Daniel?’ he clarified, before she relented and told him to call her ‘Jess’. She only made people who annoyed her use her title.

He asked if she knew about the fire, not knowing she had been there.

‘Have you heard from Harley?’ Jessica asked, walking down the stairs from the DCI’s office towards her own.

‘He woke me up at about five o’clock,’ Andrew replied, although he wasn’t complaining. ‘He had checked into a hotel and sounded like a completely different guy. I didn’t know what to tell him.’

‘Why did he call you?’

Andrew sighed loudly. ‘Honestly? I think he just wanted someone to talk to. His daughter’s gone, he left his wife and I don’t get the feeling he’s in the type of industry that appreciates you talking about those kinds of thing.’

Jessica opened the door to her office and was relieved to see it was empty. She moved to her own desk and leant back in her chair. ‘What does he do?’ she asked, realising she had no idea.

‘He runs some sort of consultancy firm. I don’t know the details exactly but I looked him up and it’s all about finance. It’s not the type of thing I would usually ask a client.’

Jessica thought that explained the wealth. ‘Did he ever tell you about anyone who might have a grudge against him? A former business partner or something dull like that?’

Andrew ummed for a few moments before replying. ‘So you think it’s deliberate then?’

Jessica winced and was grateful no one had overheard her accidentally giving the information away. It would only be a matter of time before the media got hold of it properly but it wouldn’t help if she was telling private investigators what they were thinking.

‘We’re looking at all the angles,’ she replied, thinking it sounded fairly unconvincing.