‘You okay?’ David asked.

‘No. Had a shit night and my suspect got away.’

‘I guessed as much,’ he said.

For some reason his supposition needled her. ‘How could you possibly guess that? You’re not involved in the investigation. You’ve no idea what happened.’

He held up his hands. ‘Whoa! I only meant I thought the case was going badly. Naturally, I don’t know the specifics. Mind-reading isn’t one of my superpowers,’ he added, aiming for levity and a smile. He didn’t receive one. ‘You’ve been coming in at all hours of the night since it began, and last night you were calling out in your sleep.’

She backed down, annoyed with herself for jumping down his throat. The real reason for her hostility was the elephant in the room. She was still irked he’d even considered gambling again, even if he hadn’t done so. ‘What was I calling out?’

‘Never mind.’

‘No, come on, what was it?’ she persisted.

He gave her a serious look. ‘Frances. You shouted for Frances.’

‘Oh.’

‘So, that’s why I thought things were going badly.’

‘Yeah, sorry. They are.’ She hunched over the mug of tea and stared at it.

‘You want to talk about it?’

‘Do you mind if I don’t?’

‘Sure. You know I’m here if you need me.’

She drained the cup. ‘Thanks.’ She sloped off to get dressed. She was being bitchy. It wasn’t like her. She needed to find the equilibrium that allowed her to function as a police officer, a wife and a mother.

---

Lucy had risen at 6 a.m. and tiptoed downstairs so as not to wake Bethany. It was a two-hour drive to Blackpool, a direct route up the M6 motorway, and if she left before the heaviest traffic was on the road, she’d be there for breakfast time.

Losing Rob had been a wrench. They’d been so close to capturing him. Her sole consolation was that at least they knew who they were hunting for – a man deserted by his mother and left under the care of a man who they’d discovered had a violent history, been in prison and had never held down a steady job. Lucy wondered if this was why he’d targeted Adam’s wife. On paper, Adam sounded exactly the same sort of man as his own father, yet how wrong Rob was. And Daniel. There’d been nothing to indicate he’d been anything other than a loving father to Oscar. She shook her head. She was sleep-deprived and her thoughts had got jumbled. Rob had his own agenda and she couldn’t work out the link between his own childhood and the revenge he was exacting on his victims. One thing was sure: Adam was unlike Rob’s father. He would never have harmed Alfie, a son he hadn’t fathered but loved.

---

Sea View nursing home was not overlooking the sea. In reality, it was closer to the airport than the waves, but given it was only a five-minute drive from the coast, Lucy decided they hadn’t taken too much liberty with their name.

It had once been a privately owned home, a bungalow, that had been extensively extended and transformed into a care home with all bedrooms having access to a private garden. On this bright March morning it seemed quite tranquil, with its immaculate gardens and a true hint of spring in the fresh air. Donald Cooke had ended up in a far nicer establishment than the one in which he’d brought up Rob.

The matron told Lucy that Donald’s son had not visited for many years but had turned up a month ago to see his father and left after a blazing row that had shaken the man. She gave permission for her to meet Donald in the orangery, where all visitors were permitted to spend quiet time with their relatives when they came.

‘Be gentle with him. Seeing Rob upset him greatly,’ she said before departing to seek out her charge.

A radio played quietly in the background, and a tabby cat woke, stretched then repositioned itself on one of the sun loungers and dozed off again. Lucy took up position by a table of well-thumbed magazines and waited for Donald. She didn’t have to wait long.

Donald, seated in a wheelchair, head drooping to one side, was pushed through the open doors into the bright room.

‘There you are, Donald. I told you you had a visitor.’ The nurse spoke in an overly cheerful voice as she slipped the brake on.

Lucy took in the sunken grey cheeks and the mask that covered Donald’s face, attached by a tube to an oxygen pump, and knew in an instant that he wasn’t much longer for this world. She introduced herself and sat on a seat close to him. He regarded her with yellow eyes.

‘Thank you for seeing me, Mr Cooke. I wanted to ask you about your son, Rob. About the last time he came to see you. Do you remember it?’

Donald pulled the mask away and spoke in a raspy voice. ‘It was… the first time… for years.’ He replaced the mask and inhaled quickly.

‘What did he talk about? He must have come for a reason?’

Donald nodded. With a shaking hand, he pulled the mask away once more. ‘His mother.’

‘What about her?’

‘He found her.’

‘Was he planning on seeing her?’

‘No… he was so angry… so very angry. She was living with another man – an Italian doctor – and had a new family: two daughters and two grandsons, one by each daughter. He was furious about it and especially about her using this man’s surname. I told him it didn’t matter that she wasn’t Anne Cooke any more. What was done was done. He wouldn’t listen. Started shouting, saying I’d allowed it to happen and she should pay for what she did to us. I tried… but he stormed off. He was always a difficult boy.’ He replaced the oxygen and flapped a hand to show he was weakened from the effort.

Lucy’s thoughts flashed to Rob’s mother. Would he try to kill her?

‘I really appreciate you telling me this. Do you know the name of the man she’s with?’

Chin down, he shook his head slowly, as if the weight of it was too great to move. The mask was dragged away to free his lips. ‘No but I know they live in Samford. I explained to Rob she’d done nothing wrong, but he isn’t right in the head. My flesh and blood and he isn’t right. Said she deserved to be punished.’

‘Your ex-wife still lives in Samford?’

He nodded. ‘I think so.’

‘Was there anything else he spoke about?’

The man’s eyes became dewy. ‘How much he hated me. It’s okay. I don’t much like him either. He and I had our moments and he gave as good as he got, although he seems to have conveniently forgotten that side of it. Is he in trouble?’

‘I’m sorry to tell you this. We think he’s responsible for two murders.’

‘Who? I deserve to know. Tell me the truth.’

‘Two young women – Charlotte Brannon and Samantha Kirkdale.’

‘He always had a vicious streak in him. I realised the second I set eyes on him in this orangery, it had developed into something more serious. His manner was so hostile and frightening at the same time. The way he spoke, the way he looked at me.’ He paused, head down again, digesting what he’d been told. When he spoke again, it was with genuine sorrow. ‘I’m sorry. I’m truly sorry for those poor women. They didn’t deserve to die. He’s really not normal, you know? I had so much trouble with him when he was growing up. Yet I never once thought he’d turn into a murderer. The shame of it. If you need anything, you ask. If I can help, I shall. Anne left him to me to bring up. He was such a difficult child and Anne couldn’t cope with him. She gave up on us both. He’s my responsibility. You understand what I’m saying here?’

Lucy said she did. Donald felt accountable for his son’s actions, that much was evident not only from his words but from his demeanour: the shaking hands that twisted endlessly in his lap, the heartbroken sorrow visible in his dull eyes and the intense regard he gave her as she stood. She thanked him and, leaving him in the orangery, returned to the matron. ‘Who pays for his fees to live here?’ she asked. ‘We were under the impression he was long-term unemployed.’

‘No, he worked for a long time, at Blackpool Pleasure Beach. He was a theme park attendant. He pays his own bills. He inherited a substantial sum from his partner, who was herself a wealthy widow. He told us he had no one he wished to leave his money to, so he uses it to see out what little time he has left, with us here at Sea View.’

‘He hasn’t got long, has he?’

‘Stage four lung cancer. It’s only a matter of time now. We’ll make him as comfortable as possible.’

---

Lucy leant on the roof of her car, wind striking her face and stinging her cheeks, as she spoke to Natalie. ‘Rob found his mother. She lives in Samford. She has two daughters, two grandsons, and is living with an Italian doctor. I don’t think they’re married but she’s adopted his surname. Rob’s dad didn’t know it, but we must be able to locate the man.’

‘We’ll handle it. You get back here as soon as you can.’

Natalie ended the call and faced Murray and Ian, both at their desks. ‘Anne Cooke, Rob’s mother, is living in Samford, except she isn’t using Cooke or even her maiden name, Oatridge. She’s living with an Italian doctor and taken his name. We need his surname.’

Using the general database that housed names of all professionals in the area, Ian scrolled through a list of general practitioners working at the three medical centres scattered around Samford.

‘Any idea what sort of doctor he is? Surgeon?’

‘Got no information other than he’s a doctor.’

‘There are quite a few,’ said Ian. ‘How do you want to do this? Hunt through for names that sound vaguely Italian?’

‘It’s as good a way to start as any. Run background checks on all of them to determine nationality.’ Natalie stood behind him and scoured the list with him. ‘Murray, will you take the private practitioners?’

She checked the time. It was coming up 9 a.m. Rob hadn’t returned to his house and the press conference was arranged for later that day. Aileen would be in her office by now. She had to update her superior before swinging by and interviewing Fabia. ‘I’m going to check in with Aileen. Back in a minute.’

She took the stairs to the top floor and padded along the carpeted landing to Aileen’s office, where she rapped on the door, all the while choosing her words for the meeting.

‘Have a seat,’ said Aileen.

Natalie dragged one of the ergonomic-designed conference chairs away from the desk and dropped into it lightly. ‘We have a suspect by the name of Rob Cooke. We’re sure it’s him who’s responsible for killing Charlotte and Samantha. He’s been using fake alibis for his whereabouts on the dates in question. We also received information from a psychologist treating him for recurring nightmares. She contacted the station because she was frightened by him and thought he was threatening her. She hasn’t told us the exact details of what they discussed during therapy but she voiced concerns that the dreams he described, in which he killed women, weren’t dreams at all. She’s in hiding at a friend’s house for the moment and we have officers outside it. We’re currently hunting for Rob Cooke. However, his phone isn’t emitting a signal so we think he’s dumped it. I’ve put a call out to all units to watch out for him, and the tech team are checking surveillance cameras for signs of him or his vehicle.’

‘You any idea where he might be heading?’

‘He’s recently located his mother, who abandoned him as a child, and we suspect she could be one of his intended victims. The team are on it. Once we identify her, we can send officers out and place her under protection. We’re unsure of his movements. If he’s following the same MO, he’s on the search for at least two more victims.’

‘What makes you think that?’

‘The questions written in blood. We believe he has five questions which correspond to the five questions he wrote in a letter to his mother, and so far, we only have two victims and two messages. That potentially leaves us with three more victims. Maybe Anne, his mother, will be the last victim, although we are also looking at the possibility that he killed another woman, Lucia Perez, in Manchester in 2016, and she was his first victim.’

‘And Adam Brannon? Where does he fit into all of this?’

‘Doesn’t appear to be involved.’

‘The conference is scheduled for four p.m.’ Aileen’s face said more than her words. She wanted Rob located and caught before she spoke to the media.

Natalie nodded a response and rose, replacing the chair. ‘I’ll keep you informed.’

---

Ian and Murray were working as one. ‘We’re through this list,’ said Ian, switching his screen from that of general practitioners to private ones. He groaned. ‘There are so many foreign-sounding names.’

‘One at a time,’ cautioned Natalie. ‘Don’t let this faze you. Here, let me assist.’

‘Askari, is that Italian?’ He clicked on the name and sighed.

‘You take surnames beginning A to I; Murray, you take J to R; and I’ll take the remainder.’

It was surprising how many doctors existed in Samford, each a specialist in his or her own field. As her eyes grazed over the names and she checked each, she wondered for a fleeting moment if there was one able to help with gambling addictions.

Time passed in silence. ‘I’m done,’ said Ian, interlinking his fingers and stretching them backwards before placing them on his head. He glanced at Murray. ‘What letter are you up to?’

‘P.’

‘I’ll take R. Quicken thing up.’

‘Cheers. There were loads of surnames beginning with M.’

There was nothing but the sound of keys being struck then an exclamation. ‘Rossini!’ said Ian. ‘Gianni Rossini. I’ve found him. He’s married to Anne. Wait a minute…’ There was more typing and then Ian continued. ‘He has two daughters. One’s called Chiara, a pharmacist, and the other’s a psychologist called Fabia.’

‘Oh, holy fuck. It has to be Fabia Hamilton. Her maiden name is Rossini.’

Ian hunched further over the keyboard and after a minute said, ‘You’re right.’ Natalie pinched the bridge of her nose to relieve the pressure suddenly building there. ‘So Anne and Gianni’s daughter and her son, Philippe, is one of the grandsons Lucy mentioned. Rob deliberately chose her. He didn’t need a psychologist. He wasn’t suffering nightmares or episodes at all. He was playing her all along. It isn’t only Anne he’s going to harm, it’s her daughters. They’re Rob’s half-sisters. He wants to kill them.’

‘Chiara Rossini is currently living in Florence,’ said Murray, who’d also been searching for information on them.

Natalie shook her head in disbelief. A picture was beginning to build in her head of Rob’s intentions. ‘Five questions and five victims: Charlotte, Samantha, Fabia, Chiara and possibly Anne herself.’

‘Why did he kill Charlotte and Samantha though? It makes little sense. They’re not related to him,’ Ian asked.

‘He described their deaths in detail to Fabia. Maybe it was part of his plan all along. He wanted her to work out he was a murderer,’ said Murray.

Natalie agreed. ‘I think that’s a reasonable deduction. He probably got a kick out of telling Fabia about their deaths and waiting to see if she realised or understood she was going to become one of his victims. Alert the units stationed outside her friend’s house. We must get them out of there. And get someone round to Gianni and Anne Rossini’s house too.’

She stood up and crossed the room, thoughts on how to trap Rob. Outside, the morning traffic passed by unaware of the turmoil in her head. She had to locate Rob before he acted again. Would he target Fabia next or go for Anne? Had she made the right call or was he going to target strangers, women with young boys?

Murray called her name softly. ‘Natalie. Bad news. She’s gone. Officers went inside to fetch her but she and the boy have disappeared. Her friend is unhurt and doesn’t know what happened.’

‘How did Rob slip past the officers? They were supposed to be watching out for any suspicious activity.’

‘They’re looking into it.’

‘Oh, for—’ Natalie bit her tongue. She wouldn’t lose her cool in front of her officers. Henrik had said the perpetrator was intelligent and he’d outwitted them once more. Rob had planned this meticulously. He’d been one step ahead of them all along. ‘Fuck! No. This is not happening. He is not going to kill her.’

Natalie strode to the window. Think, Natalie. Think. The problem was, she didn’t know what to do next.