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  He paused and let the ripple of faux sympathy ripple throughout the room. ‘So, the one thing we do know is that this is all connected and these two know why that is. However, they’re not saying what the connection is that could be getting them killed, but I am convinced they know exactly why. Our job is to find out. Kirsty…’

  She stood and moved to the front of the room with her laptop. ‘Some of you may wish you’d not had any breakfast,’ she said, smiling at the collected officers. She flicked to the photos of Adam Waite’s body as it had been found on the beach. A frail figure, he was the smallest of their victims so far and may not have taken a lot of effort to drag along the beach. She kept clicking until the photos closed in on his covered eyes, and then the eyes once the memory cards were removed. She smiled at Tim Jessop as he laid his bacon roll back on its paper plate. She clicked to close-ups of the cards themselves. ‘These are compact flash memory cards. We’ve not found any images or video on the cards, but we did find a partial fingerprint. No matches in our systems, sadly, but we are considering looking further afield.

  ‘This type of card is primarily used in high-end digital SLRs or video cameras. So they could be a clue to a professional or well-off hobbyist photographer.’

  ‘But they could be a plant to put us off the track,’ said Tim. He gave the bacon roll with its dollop of tomato sauce oozing onto the plate a last reluctant look before pushing the food away.

  ‘Yes, they could indeed,’ replied Kirsty. ‘It could be that they are just big enough to cover the empty eye sockets and an SD card would fall in, but why use a memory card at all?’

  ‘Good point,’ said Tim and jotted something in his notebook.

  Kirsty continued with the photos. ‘We found some traces of a pale powder around his mouth and that has been sent off for toxicology. At first sight, however, Dr Kilburn believes it could be different from the powder found on the other victims. And now for your favourite, everyone finished eating? Good. Maggots,’ she smiled around at the group. ‘You’ll be pleased to hear that we found no insect activity at all. Where the victim was found is very public during the day, in the evening the car park is more a lovers’ lane, and the shore is used by fishermen overnight, casting from the tideline, so with no insects and a public spot he’d not been dead long before he was found. Dr Kilburn, will of course confirm in his report and I think that’s it from me, Ronnie.’

  Kirsty made her way back to the desk next to Tim and Jane.

  ‘But was he killed where he was found?’ asked Jane, turning her dark eyes on the forensic scientist.

  ‘Yes,’ replied Kirsty. ‘A lot of blood had soaked into the pebbles underneath his body. So we had to dig those up and take them away. We’ll analyse fully, of course, but I do expect it to all be his blood.’

  ‘Any more questions?’ asked Carlson. ‘Right, usual activities, and Jane could you look into fishing clubs etc, I want to know who goes down to fish off the shore and if anyone saw anything that night. Oh, and can you pull together something for the press office? Run it by me before it goes to them. Thanks.’

  Jane picked up her handset and dialled the number for the press office. When Chris finally answered, Jane was more than a little short with him.

  ‘I’m sending you another press release about this fourth body,’ she said.

  ‘Aren’t you coming up to see me this time?’ he asked.

  ‘I seemed to be in the way when I popped up before,’ she said. ‘I’m just calling to let you know it’s there.’

  ‘Your boss will need to do another interview with the press soon. Now we have a fourth body the TV channels are baying for blood too.’

  ‘They should come to one of the crime scenes. They’d get plenty there,’ replied Jane tartly.

  ‘Can I use that in this release? Might amp it up a bit. It’s a bit bland. Come on, you must have more information than this. What sort of mutilations? Are they all the same? You need to make this a bit juicier,’ said Chris.

  Jane could hear the smile in his voice, knowing that she was being teased and wasn’t sure if she liked it or not. ‘I can’t give you anything more than I have done. If you want any more then you’ll have to come and ask the boss. I’m sure he’d love your input.’ She heard Chris’s laughter at the other end of the phone. She liked the sound, and knew that she would like to hear more of it, but she was on a case and so far he’d shown no interest at all.

  Chapter Thirty

  6th November 2016

  Bristol, Somerset

  Lissa pressed the salad down and cut the hefty doorstep sandwiches in half. Seeing Mal’s hungry look, she slid one portion onto another plate, added a bag of crisps and passed it to him.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘How are you doing today? Good to see that you’re eating again.’

  ‘I’m okay,’ Lissa mumbled through a mouth of sandwich. She passed him a mug of tea and they wandered into the lounge area. ‘I have something I want to tell you though,’ Lissa said as she perched on the edge of the sofa.

  ‘Sounds serious. What is it?’ Mal tilted his head sideways, giving her a concerned look.

  ‘That memory card,’ Lissa replied. ‘I found it when I moved in. I stuffed it in a bag and forgot about it. I had a sort-out the other day, a proper spring clean and I found the rucksack at the back of the wardrobe.’

  ‘Where is it now?’ said Mal. He wiped a dribble of mayonnaise from his chin onto the back of his hand and licked it away.

  ‘Still in the wardrobe.’ She watched his sharp tongue darting at the salad dressing over the top of her half eaten ham and salad. ‘I couldn’t face it, but it’s been bugging me ever since.’

  ‘Okay,’ said Mal stuffing the last of the thick-cut bloomer into his mouth. ‘Show me,’ he muttered as he rose to his feet.

  Lissa slowly placed her plate on the coffee table and stood. Terrified at what might await her on the memory card, her legs gave way slightly and Mal caught her before she fell. She nodded at him and stumbled out of the room, palms against the corridor walls to keep herself steady. At the bedroom door she faltered, but breathed in and out as Torrie had taught her and headed for the closet door. Pushing aside a winter coat she’d not worn in nearly a decade and other detritus she’d piled in boxes without thinking and brought from home, she found the bag lurking at the back. She looked at it as if it would leap up and attack her, tried to swallow but her mouth was far too dry, so she snatched it up and slammed the wardrobe door shut. She jumped when she found Mal standing so close. He’d crept into the room and she had not heard him follow her. Now she was uncomfortable that he was in her bedroom. Her skin grew cold and she shivered before rummaging around inside the bag to retrieve the memory card.

  ‘Let’s take this to the office, shall we,’ she said forcing a false brightness into her voice.

  Mal nodded although she saw him run his eyes around the room and linger on her bed. She wanted to push him out of the room. How dare he invade her space like this?

  He strode to the office and Lissa followed. Once inside, he sat in the single chair in front of her desk and held out his hand. She placed the memory card on his palm.

  He fired up the laptop and pushed it towards her so she could type in her password.

  ‘Thanks,’ he said. ‘Do you want me to look at them first and tell you what I’ve found or are you okay to stay there?’

  Relief flooded over Lissa, her anxiety at him following her into the bedroom entirely forgotten and forgiven. ‘Call me and tell me what you’ve found,’ she said. ‘I’m going to have a sit down.’

  She ambled to the sitting room again and plumped up a cushion, holding it under her chin as she stared out the window. Mal was clicking on the keyboard and muttering to himself, and Lissa began to wonder if it would have been better to have stayed with him or not. Pulling the cushion into the side of her neck she rested her head against the sofa arm and practised her breathing exercises.

  Mal’s cough at the doorway made her jump and undid al
l the benefit of the exercises. She looked at him, her heart pounding.

  ‘I think you need to have a look,’ he said gravely.

  Lissa followed him into the office and he sat her down in the chair and leaned over her to operate the mouse. She smelt his aftershave; he was so close. It had a familiar tang but she could not place it.

  He paged through the images taken that night. Some were ghostly, taken with a long exposure so people were artistically blurred, some exposures were so long the people disappeared altogether. Lissa smiled as she looked at the firework shots she’d taken. They were good. The magazine would have been pleased, but it was too late now. She sensed Mal was holding his breath. ‘What’s the matter,’ she asked.

  ‘Ready?’ he said and clicked the mouse.

  The images changed. No longer professional shots but snapshots as the camera fired in sport mode. Blurry and distorted. She caught sight of her leg in one shot and looked away.

  ‘There’s just one last thing I think you should see,’ Mal said. He clicked the mouse several times and there was a face. Image after image of a stupid smiling face.

  Lissa looked up at Mal. She opened her mouth to speak but no words came.

  ‘I know,’ he said. ‘I understand. Go and sit down and I’ll make you some tea.’

  Lissa stumbled from the room, racing to the sitting room and the sofa. Sod tea, she thought and plunged her hand down the back of the sofa to the bottle of vodka hidden there. When Mal came back into the room with hot sweet tea, she had finished the bottle.

  ‘I guess you don’t want this tea, then?’ said Mal, plonking the mug on the table in front of her. ‘Vodka’s not going to help. It really isn’t.’

  ‘It makes me feel better,’ Lissa burped.

  ‘You’re a mess,’ he said. ‘Go and lie down for a while. Leave me to sort everything out.’

  Lissa nodded and bumped her way to her bedroom, pulled a chair in front of the door, and flopped fully clothed on the bed. She heard Mal returning to the office before she lost consciousness.

  Mal went back into the office and sat down staring at the face on the screen. After a moment he tapped a query into Google and, satisfied with the answer, began a reverse image search in every platform of social media he could think of.

  He searched and made notes, printing off photo after photo of similar looking men. Searching their profiles and history for a connection with Lissa. He leaned back in the chair to rub his neck and started when he saw Lissa in the doorway. ‘Feeling better?’ he asked.

  She shook her head.

  ‘I’d drink some water if I were you,’ he said. ‘Look, I need to go out for a while. Would you mind if I borrowed your car? I’ll bring it back tomorrow.’

  He took Lissa’s wave as she stomped towards the kitchenette as a yes, gathered up the photos he’d printed, snaffled the car keys and left.

  15th November 2016

  Torrie Jericho’s consulting room

  Torrie waited whilst Lissa sipped her water. She was becoming concerned over her client’s appearance and made a mental note to discuss it with Graeme Jarman and Anders Last at their next case conference. Lissa, she noticed kept staring out the windows, the top half of which were covered in a light voile. The lower half of the windows had wooden shutters, to block out distractions from outside. Torrie began to wonder if she should change the room around completely so that clients sat with their back to the distractions of the window, but it gave them something to look at when they could not face the memories or the mental state they were talking about.

  Today, Lissa was wearing chinos and a polo neck shirt with loafers. And she kept fiddling with her hair. Twirling a small tendril around her finger. The new cut suited her but Torrie thought it was a shame that she had lost the shoulder-length glossy tresses. Still it was not unusual in trauma cases and she sat back in her chair waiting for Lissa to speak. Occasionally looking at her, smiling encouragingly, but waiting for her client to fill the silence. Which eventually, she did.

  ‘They’re coming back,’ Lissa announced.

  ‘They?’ said Torrie.

  ‘My memories. Of The Event,’ said Lissa. She twisted the short strand of hair and pulled on it not seeming to notice when the clump left her head.

  Torrie tried to keep her face blank as she watched Lissa rolling the hairs into a knot. As Lissa put her hand to her neck for another clump of hair, Torrie leaned forward and pushed the plastic glass of water closer. The distraction worked. For now.

  ‘What can you tell me about the memories?’ she asked.

  ‘Flashes. Smells. Sounds. Mal found a face on the memory card. It was one of them and since then, every time I close my eyes, he’s there. I can still feel him on top of me and there’s nothing I can do.’

  ‘When was this?’ Torrie tried not to wince as Lissa pulled another clump of hair from her scalp.

  ‘At the weekend. I showed Mal the compact flash card and he downloaded the images from it.’

  ‘And you looked at them together?’

  ‘Yes. Well Mal looked first and then we both looked together.’ Lissa stared at the clump of hair in her fingers as if she could not understand where it had come from.

  ‘How did that help, having Mal look at the photos first?’

  ‘I knew how bad it was going to be. It didn’t come as a surprise, and it helped not dealing with it all on my own. I was scared they were going to kill me that night. Sometimes, now, I wish they had.’ Lissa twisted the strands of hair around and around, only rolling the lock off her fingers once the tips had turned purple.

  ‘And now you’ve looked at the photos, memories are coming back. What do you want to do now?’

  ‘I’ve been reading about recovered memories,’ said Lissa. ‘Being hypnotised to get your memory back. Can you do that?’

  ‘It’s a technique I know how to use,’ said Torrie cautiously. ‘It’s not one I would recommend in every case.’

  ‘Why not?’ demanded Lissa.

  ‘Because it can be unreliable. Because it can flood the client with traumatic memories.’ Torrie listed the reasons on her fingers. ‘Think about what you’ve just told me about the fear and vulnerability you continue to feel. There’s a chance that hypnotism would put you back to the very start. It could undo all the work we’ve done over the last year. Ultimately, it may do you more harm than good.’

  ‘So you won’t do it?’ Lissa snorted.

  ‘That’s not what I’ve said. I have recommended against it for other clients and I strongly recommend against it for you.’ Torrie leaned forward in her chair, reaching out her hand towards Lissa as if the movement would add strength to her words. ‘There is a chance that recovering your memory of that night will overload you. It would be too traumatic for anyone. For you, especially I think it will be too much.’

  ‘You don’t think I’m strong enough,’ retorted Lissa.

  ‘This isn’t a competition, Lissa.’ Torrie spread her hands in a placating gesture. ‘It’s not a race to get well as quickly as possible. It’s something we could consider later, but I think there are other aspects of your mental health that it might be useful to discuss first.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Tell me more about Mal. You’ve come to rely very heavily on him, haven’t you?’ Torrie watched Lissa’s face as she answered the question, but Lissa bowed her head, hiding her expression.

  ‘He’s my friend. He understands me and he helps me,’ she said finally.

  ‘How does he help?’

  ‘Like looking at the memory card before I did, he wouldn’t have let me see anything horrid.’ Lissa clenched her teeth, squaring her jaw and giving Torrie a glimpse of the strong and determined woman she had once been.

  ‘But he let you see images of the rape, didn’t he?’ asked Torrie. ‘Weren’t they horrid?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Lissa. ‘But I was prepared. That’s how he helps me.’ She sat twisting more strands of her hair and pulling them out, refusing to speak anymore, u
ntil the end of the session when at least she did agree to another appointment.

  As Lissa closed the door behind her, Torrie sat tapping a pen against her left palm. Then she got up, went to her desk and dialled the number for Dr Jarman.

  Chapter Thirty-One

  14th July 2018

  Carlson family home

  ‘The boss looks well,’ said Kirsty, sipping from a bottle of beer.

  ‘Yeah,’ said Poole dismissively. ‘Despite the number of bodies piling up, he decided that we all needed a break.’

  ‘You don’t agree with the party?’ she turned to face him, tilting her head on one side.

  ‘I do and I don’t,’ Poole replied. ‘It just seems that we’re getting nowhere and being here isn’t taking us any further forward.’

  ‘Everyone needs a break, Ben, even you,’ whispered Kirsty, stepping closer to remove an imaginary piece of fluff from his polo shirt.

  He smiled at her. ‘I know you’re right. I just get so frustrated at not making headway in the case.’ He drank his red wine, making sure that he didn’t leave a drop on the glass’s rim.

  ‘Hi, skip,’ said Jane. ‘Mind if I join you two for a bit? I got tired of small talk.’

  ‘Hi, Jane,’ said Kirsty giving her the two air-kiss greeting. ‘Great party isn’t it?’

  ‘Yes,’ said Jane. ‘Just the break we all need. Refreshes the brain ready for another onslaught next week. This jerk chicken is great, isn’t it? Have you tried some? ‘

  ‘See,’ said Kirsty to Ben. ‘I’m not the only one who thinks a break is a good idea. I was telling Ben that everyone needs some downtime, even in the middle of a case like this.’

  Poole inclined his head. ‘I’m glad you like the chicken, Jane. The recipe is from my grandmother.’

  ‘Well, tell her from me that it’s fabulous, and this party is only for the afternoon,’ replied Jane. ‘I’ve been in the office this morning just going over my notes seeing if I’ve missed anything.’