Imogen spun around on her chair to face him. ‘There’s not many places for the alternative crowd to go around here, Miley. I think I know where we can start looking.’
Imogen showed the girl on the door of the nightclub her police ID and was waved forward into the club. She felt a rush of adrenaline as they entered; this was her thing, this was who she used to be. It was hard to rebel against her flighty mother when Imogen was a teen. Irene Grey would waft around wearing bright, multi-layered skirts and cardigans, smoking pot and occasionally flashing the neighbours as an act of protest. When Imogen was small her mother had insisted on dressing her in much the same way. As soon as Imogen could, she’d started wearing a pair of baggy black skater pants and a hoodie, partly to fade into the background, but also to make sure everyone knew that she was nothing like her mother. She would go to the local goth clubs, and her mother became increasingly concerned that she was exhibiting the same mental health issues that she had. The opposite was the truth; Imogen was just trying to pull away from Irene, to become an individual in her own right.
She tugged now at the clip in her hair and let it fall onto her shoulders. For the first time in a long time she felt like a traitor, slightly uncomfortable being here on duty. Here to disrupt the enjoyment rather than take part in it. The goths she had known were all quite anti-authority. She tousled her hair a little and clocked Adrian staring at her curiously. She doubted he had ever set foot in a place like this in his life. Girls in short skirts, corsets, excessive theatrical make-up. Men in motorcycle masks, tight-fitting clothing and eyeliner. There were a few people who didn’t fit into either category at a cursory glance.
‘How did you know about this?’ Adrian shouted to her above the music.
‘I know lots of things. Besides, I was going to come anyway, the band they have on tonight are pretty decent.’
‘You like this?’
‘Oh yeah, I like this.’
Adrian nodded to the bar; Imogen looked over and saw a tall man waiting to order drinks. He had shoulder-length hair, and was dressed in the same way as the man they had seen on the CCTV footage. He had the same red tartan punk trousers on, also known as bondage trousers, with straps that crossed and clipped to the opposing legs, expensive and distinctive. His hair was tucked behind his ears. Imogen looked him up and down. He looked the right height and build for the man in the video. He turned toward them and met Imogen’s gaze, she flushed a little. She composed herself before walking over to him and flashing her ID.
‘Can we have a word?’ she asked.
The man looked at the ID, he seemed a little confused but not alarmed. He necked his drink and followed them both into the lobby.
‘I’m DS Imogen Grey and this is my partner, DS Adrian Miles.’
‘Gabriel Webb.’ He held his hand out, Imogen took it and shook it. He was very direct and seemed both polite and unfazed by this interaction.
‘Can I ask where you were this evening?’
‘With some mates. Around.’
‘We have CCTV of you leaving a signal box.’
‘Right, yeah, I was there.’ He brushed his hair out of his eyes.
‘Who were you with?’ Adrian asked.
‘Why?’ Gabriel Webb narrowed his eyes. He didn’t seem like someone with something to hide.
‘Did you perhaps start a fire inside the signal box?’ Imogen asked, hoping to God he said no. Perhaps he had no idea at all about the man in the room below in the signal box. The repercussions of this were bigger than anyone his age should have to deal with. Despite his height, he had a young face; he couldn’t have been much older than eighteen. She wanted to send him home, before his world got turned upside down. It was always hardest with the young ones.
‘In the bin, yeah, but it burnt out before we left. Who told you that?’
‘Where are your friends now? Are they here?’
‘There’s something you’re not telling me, isn’t there?’ Gabriel’s pale face looked even more ghostly than before as the gravity of the situation started to dawn on him. ‘I’m not implicating anyone else until I know what’s going on.’
‘We’re going to need you to come to the station with us,’ Adrian said gravely. He made eye contact with Imogen, and she knew what he was thinking. They were potentially about to ruin this kid’s life.
‘I’m going to have to call some officers to come and interview the people here if you won’t tell me who was with you,’ Imogen said, knowing that the girls in the video’s heads were obscured and their clothes generic; if they were here the chance of identifying them was quite small.
‘I can’t tell you who I was with, I’ll come with you but I’m not saying anything about anyone else.’
Imogen felt a weight in her stomach as Gabriel went to tell the girl on the front door where he was going; she was clearly a friend of his. Imogen watched him as he spoke. She didn’t want to tell this kid the truth. Yeah, he was a tall guy, but underneath the black eyeliner and sinister-looking clothing he was probably quite insecure. She had known guys like this when she was a teenager herself; it was war paint, a mask, a way to be a part of a world you don’t feel like you fit into.
Gabriel Webb sat in the interrogation room facing Adrian. He looked a little less confident than he had before, but he clearly still had no idea what had happened.
‘We’re not sure if you know this,’ Adrian began, ‘but earlier tonight, Friday the twenty-sixth of June, after you left the signal box, a fire broke out. It took the firefighters a long time to put it out.’
‘Oh, my God!’ he said, shifting nervously in his seat.
Adrian tried to read Gabriel; he didn’t seem to be hiding anything, but then sometimes the people they had in these rooms were just very good at lying. Adrian wondered if he could trust his own instincts about this young man; was he reading him right or was he being manipulated?
Imogen walked into the room with a glass of water and put it in front of Gabriel before sitting down next to Adrian.
‘For the record, DS Grey has re-entered the room,’ Adrian said into the tape recorder that was positioned on the table in front of him.
‘Tell us what happened, Gabriel,’ Imogen said.
Adrian sat back and let his partner take the helm for a moment; she seemed to have a better rapport with the man and that might help them get more honest answers out of him.
‘I was out with some friends and we ended up at the signal box.’
‘Have you been there before?’
‘No, never.’
‘Which friends were you with?’
‘Does it matter? I already told you I started the fire. No point in anyone else getting in trouble.’
‘Why did you start the fire?’ Imogen asked.
‘It was cold. The rain was pelting down; I didn’t know it was going to rain so I wasn’t wearing a coat.’ He paused, obviously trying to think of how to word his answers. ‘One of the girls was cold. It was a metal bin and the fire didn’t even last very long.’
‘Go on.’
‘That was it. We left and went to the club to see the band.’
Adrian looked briefly at Imogen, who looked every bit as sombre as he felt.
‘Unfortunately, arson is a pretty big deal, Gabriel,’ Adrian said.
‘Arson?