He finished vacuuming his car just before the money in the machine ran out. It would still need another going-over when he got home, but hopefully the powerful vacuum at the car wash had picked up any major trace evidence. He knew all about forensics and there was no way if he got caught and questioned he would be charged because he’d left some stupid, obvious piece of evidence in his car. Standing up straight, his back clicked and he let out a small groan: he needed a massage and some painkillers. The woman last night had been heavier than she’d looked and he’d pulled something when he’d dragged her along the slippery grass.

He got back into the car and drove it across to the power wash, where he proceeded to blast the side of the car that she’d got in and out of for a solid five minutes. He’d read somewhere that someone had been captured by the police because of evidence on the outside of their car. As if you could be so damn foolish. He was confident that the rain last night would have taken care of any evidence; it had been torrential. Even so, he ensured that he used the jet spray to clean under the chassis until he was happy that he’d done everything he could.

Thankfully he’d had the common sense to let her out of the car before he’d used the hammer, otherwise it could have been a whole different story. Blood was much harder to get rid of, even after it had been scrubbed with bleach and industrial cleaners. He’d read about cases where forensic scientists had found traces of evidence at a scene years later, enough to secure a conviction. He wasn’t stupid and knew that there was a small chance he could get caught. However, he truly believed that would happen only if the investigators got lucky or if they were really good. They would have to work hard to find him and he was convinced that they wouldn’t.

When he was finished, he went into the supermarket; he needed some food and a bottle of Jack Daniel’s. He didn’t usually drink much, but he hadn’t slept last night. He’d been too high on the adrenaline. Tonight he would need some sleep in case he got called into work. It wouldn’t do for him to turn up looking dishevelled; he had a reputation to uphold. He was always the cool, calm, suave guy – if he started to unravel at the seams now it would all be over and he wasn’t ready for that. There was so much work to do. He’d only just begun.

* * *

Lucy let out a loud yawn. There was nothing more she and her team could do tonight. The area where Melanie Benson’s body had been found was still sealed off and several PCSOs were guarding the crime scene. The search dog hadn’t managed to find the missing shoes. CCTV enquiries had turned up negative and the staff at The Strawberry, which was the nearest pub to Melanie’s address, had shaken their heads when shown her photograph. The other local pub, The Ball and Chain, was shut; Browning had hammered on the door several times throughout the afternoon to no answer. Someone had come out of the flats opposite and told him it was closed on a Monday and the landlady had taken her mum to Manchester for a hospital appointment. So those enquiries would have to wait until tomorrow as well.

Lucy finished typing up the last of her reports and decided to call it a day. She was hungry and tired, and Ellie would be at her house waiting for her. Satisfied that she couldn’t do anything else, she shut down her computer. Mattie and Browning were discussing the finer points of the best curry in town. She knew they were waiting to go home out of courtesy and a sense of duty to her, so she stood up and crossed the room towards them.

‘Come on, we can get back on it first thing. I’m starving now, listening to you two talk about food for the last twenty minutes.’

Mattie high-fived Browning, who rolled his eyes at Lucy.

‘I told you the mention of food would pierce the armour surrounding her brain.’

Lucy laughed. ‘You know me so well.’

All three of them walked out of the station together until Lucy remembered she’d forgotten her file. She turned to go back inside. ‘Night, see you tomorrow.’

‘Lucy, where are you going?’

‘I’ve forgotten something. I promise I’m going home. I’m knackered.’

She knew that Mattie would be sitting in his car waiting for her to come back out, and if she took longer than five minutes he’d probably come in and drag her out. Which, to be honest, wasn’t a bad thing; she had been known to work twenty-hour days in the middle of a murder hunt without even thinking about it. She rushed up the stairs into the major incident room and grabbed the blue document wallet from her desk. It didn’t matter that there was nothing more at the moment she could think of; sometimes ideas came to her in the middle of the night. Lucy always liked to keep a copy of the file at home with her in case she needed to double-check something. Although it wasn’t technically following protocol, it was a lot easier if she could grab it out of her locked filing cabinet in the spare room, rather than having to make the ten-minute drive back to the station. After she’d eaten and watched a film with Ellie she would go back over everything they had with a fine-tooth comb, just in case she’d missed something. Ultimately it was her job to ensure the killer was caught. She was the one whose head would be on the chopping block if they fucked it up and didn’t have someone in custody soon.