It was almost 9 p.m. when Natalie turned off the light and accompanied Murray to the end of the corridor. ‘Go home and put some ice on that eye.’

He touched the bruise and winced.

A voice called from upstairs. It was Ian. ‘Natalie!’

She turned at the sound. ‘Yes?’

‘I’ve uncovered a link between the murder victims.’

Both she and Murray raced to the office, all thoughts of clocking off forgotten.

Ian brushed aside the chip wrapper, still containing cold chips, and twisted his screen around so Natalie could see it.

‘I did as you suggested and went back to the beginning. I was looking through the Brannons’ files and examining details of who purchased the property, trying to fathom out why her parents would buy a house and not let Adam be party to that knowledge, when it struck me. The house is in Eastborough, the posh side of Samford, and there are only a handful of estate agents in Samford who’d handle an upmarket property like that. Scarlett and I were looking for a place of our own and I’ve looked in a few windows over the last few months. Most estate agencies deal with the more affordable end of the market, not luxury properties, so I got onto Zoopla and found out Cartwright and Butler sold the property.’

‘The same estate agency that rented a flat to Samantha Kirkdale,’ said Murray. ‘Rob Cooke.’

Natalie’s face screwed in concentration. ‘He had a cast-iron alibi for his whereabouts. We rang the event organiser, who confirmed she checked him in and handed him a name badge – what was her name?’

‘Serena Holloway. I wanted to double-check it was definitely Rob she’d spoken to, not somebody using his name. I couldn’t find the card he gave us, so I rang the Fairfield Hotel where the conference supposedly took place, to get Serena’s number and spoke to the receptionist, Aarav. He’d never heard of Serena Holloway or was aware of any estate agent conference having taken place at the hotel. He went through the hotel event records and found nothing about it. That rang alarm bells so I followed up immediately on Rob’s second claim he was at a departmental meeting. The only Shelly Bradshaws I could find on the general database live in completely different areas to this one, and aren’t secretaries, so I rang Mr Cartwright of Cartwright and Butler estate agency and learnt the company secretary is called Kelly Fielding. He’d never heard of a Shelly Bradshaw, and to his knowledge, there’s never been a departmental meeting of any kind.’

She pressed her fingers to her forehead and released a slow groan. ‘The sneaky bastard! He handed me an authentic business card for the hotel. We rang the number on it. He arranged it all perfectly so we’d be completely foiled.’

Murray continued, ‘He’s either duped someone into covering for him, has an accomplice or used a fake alibi agency.’

Natalie knew about the fake alibi agencies who ostensibly provided alibis for people cheating on their spouses or who wanted a day off work. The police had cracked down on such websites ever since Ace Alibi had come to light in the media, but they popped up now and again.

‘We’ll definitely follow up on all those possibilities. For the moment, focus on Rob,’ said Natalie, snapping into action. ‘Everything you can on him. Now!’

As Natalie dropped onto her seat, Lucy clattered into the office, phone in hand; she waved it at them. ‘Rob Cooke. He’s our man.’

‘Mother’s maiden name was Anne Oatridge before she became Anne Cooke. Father, Donald Cooke,’ Ian said loudly. ‘Born in Blackpool, 1984. Father unemployed. Mother catering assistant. Nothing on mother after 1988. She disappeared: no employment history, no driving licence, no passport, and not registered on the national registry of voters. I suppose if Rob couldn’t find her, she was completely under the radar – change of name perhaps?

Murray, typing next to him, asked, ‘What about his father, alive or dead?’

The atmosphere was tense, each sentence clipped and functional as they laboured as a team. Ian’s fingers flew across the keyboard faster than anyone else’s.

‘He’s in a nursing home in Blackpool: Sea View.’

‘Lucy, how do you feel about an early-morning trip to the seaside to interview him?’ Natalie looked up from the phone conversation she was having.

‘I’ll pack my bucket and spade,’ came the reply.

Natalie lowered her head and continued speaking to the officers who’d been called to Louise Roberts’ house.

‘I’ve got an address for him,’ Murray called out.

Lucy suddenly piped up, ‘Hey, Murray, I’ve got his employment record here, and before he moved to the office at Samford, he was at a branch in Nottingham. That’s where Lucia Perez was murdered, isn’t it?’

Murray’s brows lifted as he digested Lucy’s words. ‘That’s a mighty coincidence.’

‘He was certainly in Nottingham at the time it happened. I bet if we checked back, we’d find he knew Lucia; maybe the Perez family bought or rented from the agency.’ Lucy shrugged. ‘Worth looking into.’

‘I’ll check that out,’ said Murray.

Natalie addressed the room. ‘Officers have arrived outside Louise Roberts’ house in Derby and will remain stationed there on the off-chance Rob decides to track down Fabia.’

‘He had plenty of opportunities to murder her when he was alone with her having therapy. Do you think she’s in real danger?’ Murray asked.

‘I’m taking no chances. The officers will keep the house under surveillance and challenge anyone who comes close to it. Louise has been advised to keep doors and windows shut and locked. Tomorrow we’ll interview Fabia, and if we don’t find Rob tonight, we’ll consider moving her out to a safe house. Who’s got his address?’

‘Here.’ Murray lifted the piece of paper.

‘Fingers crossed he’s asleep and no trouble. Let’s go get him. I’m bringing in support officers too to assist. There’s no way I want him escaping. Collect your gear.’

---

Stapleton Avenue was one of several streets curling and curving around a recently constructed housing estate. It was an unexceptional street of modern, characterless houses, on an equally anonymous estate, the sort inhabited by business people who’d relocated to the area so they could easily make the daily commute to Birmingham or Manchester, and who’d taken out hefty mortgages on their properties so they were in the correct catchment area for their children to attend the local school with a good Ofsted report. Each property looked to be a carbon copy of the other. It was obvious why Rob lived here. He could exist without attracting attention or anyone noticing his comings and goings.

The police cars drew into the street. Silently, dark figures left vehicles and, in a coordinated sequence, hastened to the side and front of number 22. Natalie looked up at the darkened windows. It was almost eleven and nobody was about. A cat scurried past, quickening its pace as it scooted past Murray, who was dressed in a police-issue flak vest and ready to break open the door with the battering ram he carried.

‘Be in, you bastard,’ Natalie said under her breath, lifting her hand to give the order.

Lucy and Ian were to the rear of the property and other officers were strategically positioned in front and to the sides, to prevent any escape. Murray raised the ram, a manually wielded heavy metal unit known as the enforcer, and struck the front door. It took only a minute before it gave way, wooden shards splintering from the door frame and hanging in situ like hardened cotton strands.

The team slipped inside, storming downstairs and upstairs simultaneously. Natalie led the team to the upper floor and flung open the first door into a bedroom. It was empty. She thundered to the second, and the bathroom, and found the same. They searched the rooms, under beds, in cupboards, behind the shower curtain. They checked windows and even the attic but Rob wasn’t at home.

Having searched under beds and in wardrobes, Natalie kicked out at the bedroom door with her boot and swore.

‘He must have found out we were coming,’ said Lucy.

‘How the fuck did he know we were after him?’ Murray asked.

Natalie shook her head. ‘There was no way he could have known. He’s either done a runner or got lucky and happened to be out. I don’t think he’s aware we’ve worked out his involvement. Henrik thinks he’s intelligent and confident. I think he’s too cocky to suspect anything. Fabia told Lucy he started his letter to his mother with five questions. He’s only written two of those on walls beside victims. He hasn’t finished whatever this is, yet. He’ll be back. Get everyone out immediately, replace the door and we’ll leave a team in position in case he returns. Don’t disturb anything. Murray and I are heading to Derby to talk to Fabia. You two go home. Lucy, call in tomorrow as soon as you’ve spoken to Rob’s father.’

‘Roger that.’

The adrenalin that had kept her going the last few hours drained from her in an instant, leaving her limbs leaden. She clambered into her Audi to wait for Murray to join her and stared at the house. Rob had escaped, and in spite of her words to her team inside the house, she couldn’t really be sure he’d return there. All she knew was she had to find him before he killed another young woman and left another child motherless.

---

Louise’s detached house was on a leafy no through road in Mickleover, a suburb of Derby. An orange light glowed over the porch, illuminating the plain grey door.

Natalie acknowledged the officers sitting in the car outside number 15, Louise’s house, and showed them her ID. Nobody had been near the place. The other houses nearby appeared to be in darkness with curtains or blinds drawn, and there was no activity.

She and Murray tapped on the door. Following a phone call made on the way to Derby, Louise had been expecting them. She showed them into the sitting room, dropped onto a plump beanbag and lifted a mug to her lips.

Fabia, taller than Natalie, stood by a mantelpiece, a shawl wrapped around her shoulders. In the dimmed lighting of the living room, her dark eyes shone like jet. She moved towards Natalie and Murray with the grace of a dancer. ‘Thank you for coming out. I hope I’m not wasting your time.’ She didn’t sit. Instead, she pulled at the shawl and looked first at Natalie then Murray.

‘We take such matters seriously and we believe you might be able to assist us,’ Natalie said.

‘You think Rob has killed women?’

‘We’re certainly looking into your accusations. Were you aware there’ve been two murders recently in Samford?’

‘I’m sorry. I had no idea. I don’t get a paper and I rarely watch the news. If the television is on, it’s invariably tuned to kids’ programmes. I have a son, Philippe,’ she added.

‘Have you ever met Charlotte Brannon or Samantha Kirkdale?’

She shook her head. ‘Were they the victims?’

‘Yes. Did Rob mention them?’

‘No.’

‘What can you tell us about Rob?’

‘I’d be breaching patient confidentiality if I went into it in great detail. If he’s absolutely innocent and I tell you what we spoke about, I could be in serious trouble.’

‘Then explain what it was that made you ring the station in a panic.’ Natalie’s tone reflected the fact she was irked at the response. She’d hoped for more cooperation. Now she was no longer as frightened for her life, the woman was retreating behind the professional mask.

Her question had the desired effect, though. Fabia drew the shawl ever tighter and began. ‘He’d been having dreams about murdering women, and the way he described them in such detail gave me cause for concern. It was completely plausible he had a vivid imagination, and maybe he was spurred on by reading about the deaths of the women you mentioned. However, in our last session he threatened me.’

‘In what way?’ Murray asked.

Fabia turned her eyes on him. ‘It was an indirect threat: a suggestion of what he might do.’

‘Can you be more specific?’ Natalie asked.

‘He said something along the lines of, “The woman opens the door to her feline friend and is greeted not by her loving mischievous companion, she cleverly named after a Norse god, but by the devil himself.” I knew he was referring to me. I have a cat called Loki, named after a Norse god. I think he was calling himself the devil.’

Natalie spoke again. ‘Did he say anything else that made you anxious?’

‘Only that he knew why he dreamt about dipping his fingers in dead women’s blood, and had I worked it out yet? I’m paraphrasing that bit. I don’t remember exactly what he said. By then he’d scared me. It isn’t much, is it? I got it into my head he was going to attack me and bolted and now I feel such an idiot. I’ve gone over it all again and maybe I read too much into it. He was angry with me because I couldn’t help him find the underlying cause of his dreams or help him. I’ve had patients become angry before. I don’t know why I had such a knee-jerk reaction this time.’

Louise spoke up. ‘You did the right thing. You were frightened. You had reason to be scared. The guy could have gone for you in your office.’

Natalie had wondered why Rob hadn’t attacked Fabia on one of the many occasions he’d visited her. If he’d wanted to harm her, he would surely have already done so. She’d concluded he’d needed Fabia’s help. Maybe the dreams were a reality with which he struggled. His words to her could be taken as a threat and also interpreted as anger born from frustration.

‘Was he referred to you?’ Natalie asked.

‘No. He was a private patient. He found me online and chose me because of my qualifications. When he booked the first appointment with me, he said he’d chosen me because he firmly believed I’d be able to fix him.’

‘Fix him?’

‘He felt he was broken. He couldn’t sleep properly because of the dreams and they were ruining his life.’

There wasn’t a lot more Natalie could learn by staying here. Rob was either on the loose or would return home. Either way, they’d catch him. ‘We’ll need to talk to you again and for you to make a statement, but for tonight, stay here. The officers will remain outside the door in case Rob turns up.’

‘You think he could have found out about Louise? I’ve never mentioned her to him.’

‘Only if he really is trying to locate you. It seems his threat was veiled but we’ll take it as serious. You told DS Carmichael you thought somebody was outside your house when you rang her?’

‘Yes, I had a freak. There was nobody. I was just jittery. Sorry. I should have stayed online and finished the conversation with her.’

‘That would have been the better option.’ Natalie glanced at Murray. He had no further questions. ‘Is your son here?’

‘He’s upstairs asleep.’

‘Okay. Keep the door locked and we’ll talk again tomorrow.’