‘I hear where you’re coming from, Adam,’ Gardam soothed. ‘And I sympathize. But you’ll appreciate that we have to follow up every lead and the witness gave a very precise description of the tattoo.’

‘She’s lying then.’

‘And what grounds do you have for saying that?’ Helen interjected.

‘Well, it’s obvious, isn’t it. She’s after attention, you know what teenage girls are like.’

This last comment was addressed to Gardam and Helen was about to interject, when her boss once more intervened.

‘Well, I’m not sure I share the sentiment, but we’re both saying the same thing. We must investigate this lead quickly and discreetly. If there is nothing in it, we can all move on.’

Helen let Gardam take the lead, but inside she bridled at his constant interventions. It had been her idea to contact Latham in advance to secure his cooperation and she would have happily handled the difficult meeting herself, but Gardam had insisted on hosting it, hoping perhaps that his superior rank and masculine mateyness might help persuade Latham. Perhaps Helen should have felt grateful for his support, but she didn’t. She had never needed or asked for the protection of a man. She didn’t do white knights.

‘And you think that’s possible, do you? That this little line of investigation can be kept under wraps?’ Latham’s tone was witheringly sarcastic. ‘Your station is as leaky as they come – as soon as you start interviewing my officers the press will know about it and then what happens? The public stop cooperating with us. They start impeding our work, abusing our officers, attacking them even. Something like this can cost lives. Is that what you want?’

‘We want to catch the person responsible,’ Helen shot back before Gardam could step in. ‘I cannot let any other considerations distract me from that goal. But there is no need for anyone to get overexcited. We’re not going to go around kicking in doors –’

‘No? I rather thought that was your speciality.’

‘Only when it’s warranted. For now we’re just making enquiries.’

‘I’ll remember that when I’m visiting my officers in hospital, once you’ve whipped up the mob with your half-baked accusations –’

‘I believe you’re the one jumping to conclusions here, not me. We’ve no reason to believe this girl is lying –’

‘I’m wasting my time, here. Jonathan, can you talk to her?’

Now Helen really wanted to smack him. She hated nothing more than being talked about as if she weren’t in the room. Gardam saw the flash of anger and stepped in decisively.

‘I’m not going to overrule my best officer, Adam. DI Grace must pursue every avenue of investigation. History won’t thank us if we fail to catch our man because of political sensitivities. We’ve heard your concerns and noted them. We will do everything in our power to stop this rebounding on your officers, but we are going to pursue this lead, so I suggest we all start cooperating on the best way to do that, ok?’

There was nowhere for Latham to go now – Gardam held the whip hand in this situation – so very begrudgingly Latham conceded the point, marching from the room without a single look at Helen. Gardam waited until his counterpart was well out of earshot before turning to Helen.

‘At least that’s cleared up,’ he said.

Helen nodded. Gardam was looking at her, but said nothing. Was he waiting for some kind of thanks, for her to congratulate him on rescuing the situation? If so, she wasn’t going to give him the pleasure. She was used to handling worse dinosaurs than Adam Latham.

‘I’ll get on, sir.’

‘You do that, Helen,’ Gardam responded evenly. ‘These sorts of situations require multi-agency cooperation and we’ve just lost the support of one of our key players here. So let’s make the most of it, eh?’

Helen hurried down the corridor towards the incident room, less certain now than ever about her standing with the new station chief. Did he like her? Or dislike her? Was he as progressive as he seemed or an old sexist in sheep’s clothing? Helen had the distinct impression that he wanted to protect her. But to what end? To safeguard the reputation of Southampton Central or for some other reason? Helen’s gut instinct – usually so reliable – was letting her down this time.

Pushing through the door, Helen was immediately assaulted by a wall of noise. They had had to draft in more phone operators to deal with the flood of leads to their incident hotline. Nothing significant had come out of this so far, but it showed the public were engaged with the issue and remaining vigilant, which might make their arsonist think twice. It was already mid-afternoon – not long now until darkness stole over Southampton once more. In reality, they were still no nearer to apprehending a suspect and the nagging question of what he might do next was forever at the front of Helen’s mind.

Spurred on by this fear, Helen waved Sanderson into her office. Shutting the door gently but firmly, Helen asked her deputy to sit. Already Sanderson had a pen and pad poised, which cheered Helen – they had a lot to do today.

‘So we need staff rotas and post-incident reports from Hants Fire and Rescue for the last few days. They won’t like it but they’ll have to play ball, so don’t be coy in asking.’

Sanderson suppressed a small smile. She always looked forward to squeezing the pen pushers and bureaucrats who delighted in trying to hold up vital investigative work.

‘Once you’ve got them, pull in McAndrew – just McAndrew, no one else – and quietly go through the staff lists, rota patterns, etc. and find out who was working the last couple of nights and just as importantly who wasn’t. Prioritize male officers for now. We are looking for opportunity and motive. Focus specifically on those who are young, single, possibly isolated. Anyone who’s had disciplinary problems, or been turned down for a promotion recently, or had marital or family problems. Whoever is doing this is angry, they want to make a point to the world, but perhaps also to someone closer to home – to colleagues, family, their ex. Go over it once, twice, however many times you have to, then give me some names. I need this done quickly and discreetly, ok. You can use my office for now.’

Sanderson was already on the phone before Helen was out of the door. They had achieved nothing concrete yet, but they had the first major lead now and Helen was determined to make the most of it. Having been on the back foot so far, it was time to wrest back the initiative.

52

She padded softly behind them without being seen. She had followed them halfway across Southampton – her red Fiat tucked three cars back from the dark Megane, hidden by the heavy rush hour traffic – but this was the most dangerous bit, now that they were on foot. If they were going to spot her, they would spot her here, when she was out in the open and exposed.

They were heading deep into St Mary’s now. People who’d never been to the city had heard of St Mary’s thanks to Southampton Football Club, who’d moved to a swanky new stadium there in 2001. The move was supposed to be part of big regeneration for the area, but truth be told nothing much had changed. The streets flanking the giant stadium seemed to be somehow in its shadow – neglected, forgotten and more than a little depressed.

It was a description that could have aptly fitted Emilia Garanita over the past year or two. She was a talented and ambitious reporter who had underachieved so far. There was no point dressing it up as anything else. She had overplayed her hand during previous investigations and ended up back at the bottom of the heap, the victim of a particularly unscrupulous game of snakes and ladders.