36 Hours - Detective Kim Stone Series 21 (2024)

Marsons, Angela

Kim clutches the note tightly as her pulse starts to race. You have 36 hours. If you follow the instructions, no one will get hurt . . .

When Detective Kim Stone is woken before dawn because local journalist Tracy Frost wants to show her a message, she’s not impressed.

But her blood turns cold when she reads the note.

She has 36 hours to follow a trail set by an anonymous challenger.

If she fails, people will die. Kim’s gut tells her this is no hoax.

She summons her team, desperate to prevent what lies ahead.

With minutes to spare, they solve the first cryptic clue.

It leads to a box hidden deep in the woods, containing a second clue and a tape.

As she listens to the recording of a heart-wrenching scream, Kim knows her enemy will go to any lengths to achieve his goals . . . and that she must draw on all her experience of evil men to understand what is driving him.

Refusing to blindly follow orders, Kim and the team turn the killer’s clues against him, using evidence buried deep in the tapes to find where he’s hiding his victim.

But they are too late . . .

And then, as the sun rises on the second day, someone else goes missing.

This time, it’s a skilled surgeon, and if they don’t save her, an eight-year-old girl will die.    

Exhausted and enraged, with her bosses watching every step she takes, Kim realises the only way to win is to break the rules.

But with the clock ticking, can she find the twisted mind behind this murderous game before her time runs out?  

36 HOURS

A COMPLETELY UNPUTDOWNABLE CRIME THRILLER

DETECTIVE KIM STONE

BOOK 21

ANGELA MARSONS

BOOKS BY ANGELA MARSONS

DETECTIVE KIM STONE PREQUEL

First Blood

DETECTIVE KIM STONE SERIES

1. Silent Scream

2. Evil Games

3. Lost Girls

4. Play Dead

5. Blood Lines

6. Dead Souls

7. Broken Bones

8. Dying Truth

9. Fatal Promise

10. Dead Memories

11. Child’s Play

12. Killing Mind

13. Deadly Cry

14. Twisted Lies

15. Stolen Ones

16. Six Graves

17. Hidden Scars

18. Deadly Fate

19. Bad Blood

20. Guilty Mothers

21. 36 Hours

OTHER BOOKS

If Only

The Forgotten Woman

Dear Mother

Available in audio

DETECTIVE KIM STONE PREQUEL

First Blood (Available in the UK and the US)

DETECTIVE KIM STONE SERIES

1. Silent Scream (Available in the UK and the US)

2. Evil Games (Available in the UK and the US)

3. Lost Girls (Available in the UK and the US)

4. Play Dead (Available in the UK and the US)

5. Blood Lines (Available in the UK and the US)

6. Dead Souls (Available in the UK and the US)

7. Broken Bones (Available in the UK and the US)

8. Dying Truth (Available in the UK and the US)

9. Fatal Promise (Available in the UK and the US)

10. Dead Memories (Available in the UK and the US)

11. Child’s Play (Available in the UK and the US)

12. Killing Mind (Available in the UK and the US)

13. Deadly Cry (Available in the UK and the US)

14. Twisted Lies (Available in the UK and the US)

15. Stolen Ones (Available in the UK and the US)

16. Six Graves (Available in the UK and the US)

17. Hidden Scars (Available in the UK and the US)

18. Deadly Fate (Available in the UK and the US)

19. Bad Blood (Available in the UK and the US)

20. Guilty Mothers (Available in the UK and the US)

OTHER BOOKS

If Only (Available in the UK and the US)

The Forgotten Woman (Available in the UK and the US)

Dear Mother (Available in the UK and the US)

CONTENTS

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Chapter 10

Chapter 11

Chapter 12

Chapter 13

Chapter 14

Chapter 15

Chapter 16

Chapter 17

Chapter 18

Chapter 19

Chapter 20

Chapter 21

Chapter 22

Chapter 23

Chapter 24

Chapter 25

Chapter 26

Chapter 27

Chapter 28

Chapter 29

Chapter 30

Chapter 31

Chapter 32

Chapter 33

Chapter 34

Chapter 35

Chapter 36

Chapter 37

Chapter 38

Chapter 39

Chapter 40

Chapter 41

Chapter 42

Chapter 43

Chapter 44

Chapter 45

Chapter 46

Chapter 47

Chapter 48

Chapter 49

Chapter 50

Chapter 51

Chapter 52

Chapter 53

Chapter 54

Chapter 55

Chapter 56

Chapter 57

Chapter 58

Chapter 59

Chapter 60

Chapter 61

Chapter 62

Chapter 63

Chapter 64

Chapter 65

Chapter 66

Chapter 67

Chapter 68

Chapter 69

Chapter 70

Chapter 71

Chapter 72

Chapter 73

Chapter 74

Chapter 75

Chapter 76

Chapter 77

Chapter 78

Chapter 79

Chapter 80

Chapter 81

Chapter 82

Chapter 83

Chapter 84

Chapter 85

Chapter 86

Chapter 87

Chapter 88

Chapter 89

Chapter 90

Chapter 91

Chapter 92

Chapter 93

Chapter 94

Chapter 95

Chapter 96

Chapter 97

Chapter 98

Chapter 99

Chapter 100

Chapter 101

Chapter 102

Chapter 103

Chapter 104

Chapter 105

Chapter 106

Chapter 107

Hear More from Angela

Books by Angela Marsons

A Letter from Angela

FIRST BLOOD

SILENT SCREAM

EVIL GAMES

LOST GIRLS

PLAY DEAD

BLOOD LINES

DEAD SOULS

BROKEN BONES

DYING TRUTH

FATAL PROMISE

DEAD MEMORIES

CHILD’S PLAY

KILLING MIND

DEADLY CRY

TWISTED LIES

STOLEN ONES

SIX GRAVES

HIDDEN SCARS

DEADLY FATE

BAD BLOOD

GUILTY MOTHERS

IF ONLY

THE FORGOTTEN WOMAN

DEAR MOTHER

Acknowledgements

Publishing Team

Supporting Young Readers

This book is dedicated to Ruth Tross, my amazing editor, who could not have done more to help me through difficult times to bring this book to life.

ONE

SUNDAY, 5 A.M.

Kim turned over in bed to end the dream of someone banging on her front door.

Barney leaped off the bed and down to the floor.

She opened her eyes, but the dream didn’t end. Someone really was hammering on the front door.

Barney’s ferocious barking was now adding to the noise, mirroring her own thoughts. Nothing good came from a 5 a.m. wake-up call.

‘Jesus Christ,’ she cursed as she threw on a pair of tracksuit bottoms and a tee shirt.

She briefly considered shouting out of the bedroom window, but her rage demanded that she abuse this person face to face.

She grabbed her phone from the bedside table where she’d left it only three hours ago. The movement lit up the screen and showed she had no missed calls or text messages from Keats, the station or any members of her team.

Oh, they sure were gonna get it now, Kim thought as she stomped down the stairs.

Unless the person knocking was being threatened by an axe-wielding psychopath, this intruder was going to get kicked across the street.

She threw open the door wearing the expression that her work colleagues called her ‘fuck off’ face.

The expression froze as Barney’s barking stopped upon seeing the person responsible for the disturbance.

‘What the hell, Frost?’

‘I need a word,’ the reporter said, pushing past her.

‘Well, make it a good one cos it’s gonna be your last,’ Kim said, still standing beside her open front door. The dream had become a nightmare.

‘Seriously, we need to talk,’ Frost said, reaching down and patting Barney’s head, and the traitorous animal allowed it.

Kim closed the door, resigned to the fact Frost was in her house now, and dynamite wasn’t going to shift her until she’d said what she was here to say.

‘Put the kettle on and make mine strong,’ Frost said, taking a seat at the breakfast bar.

‘I will put the kettle on, but I’ll be making yours to go,’ Kim said, searching for the travel mug she knew she had somewhere.

‘You need to see this,’ Frost said, taking a sheet of paper from her pocket.

It was only then that Kim realised the woman hadn’t paused long enough to grab one of her treasured designer handbags.

In fact, on closer inspection, her whole appearance was a shambles.

The smart trousers she usually wore had been replaced with Lycra leggings. The skyscraper high heels used to disguise a limp had been replaced with running shoes, and a stained tee shirt was visible as she took off her jacket. She wore a pensive expression rather than cosmetics on her face.

Kim took the piece of paper and unfolded it. Immediately, she could see it was an email addressed to Frost.

Dear Ms Frost,

First of all, you should know this is not a joke.

It is a game, and you will play. If you follow instructions, no one will get hurt.

You will not miss the first, but you will miss the next.

The game will begin at 7 a.m.

Assemble your team, including one high-ranking police officer.

Post updates on the progress of the game every 6 hours on the Dudley Star website naming the Jester.

Updates to begin at noon. Failure will have consequences.

The game will end at 7 p.m. Monday.

Make no mistake. Play the game or people will die.

The Jester

Even knowing it was a printout, Kim turned it over and checked the other side.

‘You woke me up at this time on a Sunday morning for a crackpot email?’ she asked, pushing the paper back towards Frost and turning to the kettle.

‘It came in at 4 a.m.,’ Frost offered.

‘Even I don’t need to tell you how sad it is that you’re checking your emails that early on a Sunday morning, and all that tells me is that the person yanking your chain has insomnia.’

She shrugged. ‘Hardly the point. What are we going to do about it?’

‘Well, I’m planning on throwing you out and going back to bed, but…’

‘You don’t think we need to do something?’

‘Frost, I’m pretty sure you’ve had dodgy emails before. Probably even death threats, which I can understand – some of them may even have come from me – so why are you taking this one seriously?’

Frost pushed the paper back towards her. ‘There’s no sensationalism. It’s precise, it’s to the point. It doesn’t ramble. It’s well written, it’s grammatically correct and it’s very clear that people will get hurt.’

‘You’re taking it seriously cos the sender knows how to use spellcheck?’ Kim asked, picking the page back up.

She read the message again and could kind of see Frost’s point, but she remained unconvinced. It was an email to a reporter.

‘It’s a hoax. A prank,’ she said with a little less conviction than she would have liked.

‘You might be right, Stone,’ Frost replied. ‘But what if you’re not?’

Kim considered the implications for a good ten seconds.

And then she reached for her phone.

TWO

‘How can I possibly resist you?’ Jenny asked as he headed back towards the bed.

‘Beats me,’ Bryant said, jumping in on his own side.

He’d considered using the bathroom visit as a prompt to get out of bed and make an early start on the overwintering jobs Jenny wanted done in the garden.

After a soggy September, the first week of October had been dry, bright and positively balmy with highs of twenty degrees. The temperature was now dropping drastically at both ends of the day, prompting Jenny’s instructions for the last mow, pruning back and covering the outside furniture.

But it was Sunday. A lazy, peaceful, chilled start to the day was just what he needed. The feel of the bed still warm from his own body had proven too tempting to resist. And he welcomed any excuse to put off the jobs he didn’t want to do.

‘Come here and let me put my cold feet on you,’ he said, moving towards his wife.

Jenny moved her legs out of reach and chuckled. ‘Much as that idea appeals to me, do you not want to check your phone first?’

‘For what?’ he asked, frowning.

‘It beeped while you were in the loo.’

‘What did it sound like?’ he asked.

‘Broken glass.’

He knew that notification tone, and he’d only applied it to one person.

He brought the screen to life and saw that it was a message in the team WhatsApp group.

He clicked into it.

Two words.

‘What’s it say?’ Jenny asked, leaning over his left shoulder.

He moved to the edge of the bed. ‘It says I need to get up and get ready for work.’

THREE

‘Come on, Lynne – get a move on,’ Penn called from the kitchen.

Miraculously she appeared in the doorway.

‘Shush, you’ll wake Jasper,’ she said, heading towards the kettle.

The novelty of seeing Lynne moving around his home as if it was her own hadn’t yet worn off. She hadn’t officially moved in, but the natural progression of their relationship meant that her current landlord was getting an easy ride.

He took pity on her beseeching look and pushed a coffee flask towards her. ‘I made you one to go.’

She groaned and reached down for her boots. ‘Explain again why we’re going in the middle of the night?’

It was a slight exaggeration, but she was right that it was still dark outside.

‘It’s the first one of the season. It’s gonna be packed, and it’s an hour to get there. Queuing to get in will be a nightmare.’

‘So, all this effort to go buy other people’s old shit?’

He took mock offence. ‘Studley car boot is much more than a collection of other people’s shit. And they have hot pork rolls.’

‘Bleurgh. Who wants food right now? And what exactly are you hoping to find?’

It was hard to explain the buzz he got from walking around the stalls looking at all the bric-a-brac, the old belongings that had a history, never knowing what you might see on the next stall.

‘People find real treasures at car boot sales. One guy found a Lalique vase and paid one pound for it. Turns out it was worth over thirty thousand quid.’

Lynne crossed her arms. ‘So you’re hoping to make your fortune today?’

‘Nah, I just love rummaging about in people’s old shit.’

‘Good to know,’ Lynne said with one eyebrow raised. ‘I just hope you appreciate this as a declaration of my love, that I’m willing to spend my day off traipsing around a muddy field looking at other people’s old shit with you.’

‘Yeah, that and the twenty-minute back scratch you got last night.’

She smiled at the memory of it. ‘Okay, partner, in the words of the shepherd, let’s get the flock out of here.’

Pleased that she was finally entering into the spirit of the trip, Penn grabbed his car keys.

‘Jasper knows where we’re⁠—’

He stopped speaking as his phone sounded.

Lynne paused too, knowing full well what could happen in their line of work.

‘Damn,’ he said, clicking into WhatsApp.

He let out a long breath when he saw the two-word message.

His eyes met Lynne’s and he saw the disappointment there. Not for the car boot sale but for the loss of their first full day off together in three weeks.

‘I’m sorry.’

Her gaze softened. She reached for the flask of coffee and kissed him on the cheek.

‘Get to it, Sergeant, cos I’m going back to bed.’

FOUR

It didn’t matter to Stacey that she still felt half asleep. She didn’t care that her side of the bed was probably still warm. What mattered was that she and Devon still loved each other enough to want to share every moment they could. Even if that meant her crawling out of bed at an obscene time to share a coffee with her wife before she headed out for an early shift. The role of immigration officer had even less respect for the weekend than her own job did.

‘So, what are you doing today?’ Devon asked, reaching for her lunch box from the fridge.

‘Oh, I’m gonna let myself come round slowly.’

‘You mean you’re off back to bed?’ Devon asked with amusement.

‘And then fix myself a light breakfast.’

‘Jam on toast in bed?’

‘Then I’ll probably do some housework.’

Devon laughed. ‘We both know that’s an outright lie.’

Stacey accepted the judgement. It wasn’t that she didn’t clean; it just wasn’t high on her list of priorities. Luckily it wasn’t a deal-breaker in their marriage.

‘Then I might watch some educational television.’

‘Real housewives of somewhere.’

‘Maybe talk to friends.’

‘Ring Alison and talk about the latest episode of real housewives of somewhere.’

From Stacey’s laughter, Devon would know she was translating accurately.

‘Then I’ll grab some lunch.’

‘You’re going to your mum’s for Sunday dinner? Shit, Stace, that one hurts the most.’

Stacey knew that Devon loved her mum’s cooking as much as she did. Luckily, her mum knew it too.

‘You know she’ll make you a plate for me to bring back.’

‘And that thought alone will get me through my shift,’ Devon said, grabbing her backpack before planting a kiss on Stacey’s lips. ‘Okay, babe, have a good day.’

‘Missing you already,’ Stacey said as Devon headed to the hallway for her coat and scarf.

Stacey allowed a sigh of contentment to leave her lips. There was no doubt she would have preferred Devon to not be at work, but she’d be home by teatime and they’d have a nice long night together.

She was just deciding whether to have a snooze in bed or make the jam on toast now when her phone dinged a notification.

Her breath caught. The boss was posting in the team group.

Two words.

‘Okay, hun, I’m off so⁠—’

‘One sec, Dee, can you give me three minutes and then drop me off at work?’

She fled to the bedroom already knowing what the answer would be. It wouldn’t take her any longer than those three minutes to get ready for the message that simply read:

Station. Now.

FIVE

6.30 A.M.

Every single member of her team entered the squad room and stayed silent when they saw who was sitting at the spare desk.

Although Frost had been of assistance to them in the past, not one of them ever forgot what she was. Kim was sure they were all wondering what she was doing in their office after an urgent call to assemble.

‘I would imagine you’d all like to know why you’ve been called in,’ she said, grabbing the copies of the email she’d sent to the printer. ‘And if you just give me one⁠—’

‘What the hell kind of game is this, Stone?’ Woody asked, striding into the room. His rigid expression didn’t soften upon spotting Frost sitting in the corner. A raised eyebrow was enough for her to know he was wondering what the hell she was doing in the station.

‘That’s what we’re about to figure out, sir,’ Kim offered, handing them all a piece of paper.

Her request for her boss, DCI Woodward, to attend had contained more words but no less urgency.

The squad room was currently awash with denim and sweatshirts.

‘I’ll give you all a minute to read the email Frost received a couple of hours ago.’

Woody was the first to finish.

‘Is this some kind of joke? You called everyone in on a Sunday morning for this nonsense?’ he asked, waving the paper in the air.

‘Sir, please read it again,’ Kim advised.

She, more than anyone, could understand how on the first reading it appeared to be no more than a hoax. She’d been ten seconds away from dragging Frost out of her house by the nostril, but once she’d moved past the initial dismissal and read it again, the cold formality and lack of sensationalism offered a more chilling perspective.

‘I’m still thinking it’s some kind of prank, Stone,’ he said, although some of the ice had thawed from his voice.

‘But what if it’s not?’ Kim asked, using Frost’s words on her boss.

He considered her response before shaking his head. ‘You know I can’t sanction a full investigation based purely on this.’

She was tempted to ask him if he’d prefer a dead body, but she respected him enough that she would never challenge him in front of the team.

‘You know that authorising this would be a fast track to medical retirement.’

She nodded, knowing he spoke the truth. Their job was to investigate major incidents – murder, assault, armed robbery… not the receipt of a dodgy email. The chief inspector would have Woody’s job. There was no question: he was shutting her down before they’d even begun.

As her team silently glanced at each other, Woody took a look at his watch.

‘And now if you’ll excuse me, I’m going to collect my granddaughter for a day out. What you choose to do with your Sunday is your own affair, Stone. I’ll see you in my office at 8 a.m. tomorrow.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said with a smile and a nod as he turned and left the squad room.

Yes, he was closing them down, officially.

‘Now I’ve seen it all,’ Frost said, reaching for her jacket. ‘Someone you actually listen to, Stone.’

‘And that would be because he has my trust and respect. Unlike some people.’

She turned to her team. ‘You heard the man. We’re officially shut down, so feel free to resume your Sunday activities.’

‘Car boot will be packed by now,’ Penn offered.

‘Devon’s at work,’ Stacey said.

‘Garden work with Jenny,’ Bryant said with a mischievous grin.

Frost stayed quiet but sat back down, which kind of said it all.

No one made a move to leave, and all eyes were upon Kim.

‘Okay, everyone, get a drink and let’s make a start.’

SIX

6.50 A.M.

‘So, ground rules, folks. It appears we’re stuck with Frost for the time being, so I insist you treat her with the respect she deserves. Rotten veg and grotty water will be supplied on request.’

‘Funny,’ Frost said with an eyeroll.

‘Sticking with you, Frost, is there anything at all that might have prompted someone to have a joke at your expense? I’m not even gonna ask if you’ve pissed anyone off cos we ain’t got that kind of time, but is there anyone you’ve pissed off more than normal?’

‘Not that I’m aware of.’

‘Well, you’ve been chosen for a reason, so I want a printed copy of every article you’ve written in the last three months and a list of every place you’ve visited.’

‘You really need all that?’ Frost asked, reaching for the laptop they’d collected en route to the station.

‘Probably not all of it, but it’ll keep you out of trouble for the foreseeable future.’

‘While you’re on me can I ask a question?’ Frost asked.

‘Make it quick.’

‘He’s made it clear that I’m to write articles every six hours beginning at midday. What am I allowed to share and what am I not?’

‘Decent question,’ Kim said, taking a minute to think. ‘You just need to keep it as vague as possible. You can mention the places we’ve been but nothing that reveals who or how we’re investigating. Clear?’

Frost rolled her eyes. ‘Oh yeah.’

Kim turned to the team. ‘Thoughts?’

‘I don’t think it’s a joke,’ Penn offered.

‘Go on,’ Kim said.

‘This message is too well thought out. He’s used it to communicate his intentions. He’s not seeking or begging for attention. It’s almost like the game is going ahead whether we like it or not.’

‘Exactly,’ Kim agreed, even though Stacey and Bryant still looked doubtful.

‘For the purpose of moving forward, we’re gonna assume this isn’t a hoax and that bad things are going to happen if we don’t stop them. With that in mind, what questions should we be asking?’

‘Why Frost?’ Stacey asked.

‘Hopefully Frost can answer that one eventually. Next?’

‘What does he want?’ Bryant asked.

‘Yes. Next?’

‘Has this happened anywhere else?’ Penn asked.

‘Can we track anything on the Jester?’ Stacey asked.

‘Yep, anything else?’ Kim asked, counting off her fingers.

Silence.

‘What he means about something missing,’ Frost offered.

‘For future reference, you’re not allowed to speak without raising your hand. In fact, you’re not even allowed to listen. But in this case, you are correct.’

Frost let triumph show on her face before turning her attention back to her computer.

‘I think that should be enough to⁠—’

Kim stopped speaking as Frost’s phone beeped, startling them all.

It was exactly 7 a.m.

Frost pressed a couple of keys and then raised her hand.

‘Bloody speak,’ Kim barked.

‘It’s a text message from him, and it looks like our first clue is in.’

SEVEN

7.01 A.M.

‘What the hell?’ Kim cried once Frost had stopped speaking.

‘Read it again,’ Bryant said.

Frost took a breath. ‘“This is clue one. It’s human nature to spring your food well. Find me by eleven or…”’

Frost stopped speaking and then continued. ‘That’s it, folks.’

‘Penn, write it on the board,’ Kim instructed.

‘You reckon this is some kind of Randonautica thing?’ Stacey asked.

‘What now?’ Kim asked.

‘I don’t think so. Randonautica is an app,’ Penn said, taking his seat. ‘It was founded in 2020 and it randomly generates clues enabling the user to explore their local area and report their findings. I think we’re looking more at geocaching.’

Frost’s hand shot into the air.

Kim ignored it and focussed only on Penn.

‘Go on.’

‘Randonautica focusses on randomly generated co-ordinates and is based on chaos theory. It isn’t someone laying a trail with clues.’

‘And the other one?’ Kim asked.

‘Geocaching,’ Penn repeated. ‘That’s been around for decades. Back in the day, there were clubs for it, before the internet.’

‘Break it down for me,’ Kim instructed.

‘I’m no expert, but as far as I know this is how it works. Let’s say we’re all part of a geocaching club. I might leave a box at Leasowes Park. I’d then give you all a clue as to where I’ve left it. In the box will be a logbook which you’d sign and date to say you’ve found it.’

Kim waited.

‘Err… that’s it,’ Penn added.

‘This is some kind of hobby?’ Kim asked. ‘I mean, what’s the point?’

Frost pushed her hand further into the air.

Penn followed Kim’s example and ignored the reporter. ‘There’s probably a lot more to it now, especially with the internet as a tool. I think it gained popularity during the pandemic when people just needed something to do.’

Frost’s hand was still waving frantically in the air.

‘Okay, speak.’

‘There’s a group in Telford. They love this stuff. One of my exes was proper into it. I think they ended up creating a website to do it professionally. It’s called Seekers Inc.’

‘Bloody hell, Frost, why didn’t you say so in the first place?’

Without giving her the chance to answer, Kim turned to Stacey and Penn. ‘Okay, all we have right now is a phone number, an email address, a clue and the hint that someone might be missing. You two get cracking on that lot while we head over to Telford.’

‘And we’re doing that because…?’ Bryant asked, raising an eyebrow.

‘Because as knowledgeable as Penn was on the subject, he really wasn’t. No offence, Penn,’ she apologised. ‘We’ve been told it’s a game and that we’re going to be playing it for thirty-six hours. If the Jester is that confident we’re not going to catch him off the first clue, it’s not his first rodeo, is it? We need to have a better understanding of how it all works and to see if the Jester has used the Seekers site in the past.’

Kim grabbed her jacket and wondered yet again if she was just wasting everyone’s time.

Stacey was tapping furiously. ‘Yep, Frost is correct. The website is called Seekers Inc. I’ll try to contact this Ryan Douglas and get him to⁠—’

‘Who?’ Frost called out without raising her hand.

The look on her face stopped Kim from berating her. ‘Why?’

‘H-He’s the old boyfriend I was telling you about. I knew about the company, but I didn’t know he owned it.’

Kim managed to hide her surprise that there’d been a boyfriend. Instead, she asked the obvious question. ‘You didn’t think to mention it? You don’t think that connection could be the reason you’ve been targeted?’

‘I was seventeen. I doubt he’d even remember my name,’ she said, looking away.

But you’ve remembered his, Kim thought. And it makes you uncomfortable.

She couldn’t help but be intrigued, but she had more important questions to ask.

‘Okay, I want just one answer before you go back to withholding vital information from us.’

Frost met her gaze, but her expression hadn’t yet returned to normal. The mention of this name was clearly not a welcome surprise.

‘Is he capable of something like this?’

She didn’t hesitate. ‘Oh yes. This and a whole lot more.’

EIGHT

7.30 A.M.

‘Who knew Frost had dated a certified nerd?’ Bryant asked as he programmed the satnav for the Seekers Inc headquarters.

‘Pretty big news she dated at all,’ Kim said, turning to look out of the window. And it was a relationship that had left a mark on the reporter. Although they weren’t friends, Kim knew the woman well enough to tell when she was bristling. She hadn’t even wanted to say the man’s name, but she’d been sure that Ryan Douglas was capable of setting up this and maybe more.

She pushed the thought aside and settled in for the journey while sifting through the doubts in her head.

Was she overreacting to what could be a hoax at Frost’s expense by an ex-boyfriend?

Whenever she brought that thought to the front of her mind, her gut reacted instantly that it wasn’t the case. This wasn’t something she’d ever encountered before. She and her team were now on a mission to try and prevent people getting hurt. Their involvement normally came on the other side and the person was already hurt – or worse, dead.

Was she wasting her time travelling to Seekers Inc? What exactly were they going to be able to tell her? A small voice assured her they could tell her more than she knew now. They specialised in this kind of game, and now they had a direct link between the site and Frost.

They had already been told this was going to last for thirty-six hours, so she knew they only had the first clue.

She had no idea what happened if they didn’t solve it in time, and she just hoped the team would have some answers for her soon.

NINE

8 A.M.

Stacey couldn’t help but find it a bit unnerving having Frost stationed at the spare desk.

It was an area that had accommodated many experts and consultants over the years, but having Frost taking up space hadn’t been on her bingo card.

‘You’re watching me again,’ Frost said, raising her head and meeting Stacey’s gaze.

‘You make me nervous,’ Stacey said honestly.

‘Of what?’

‘Having a conversation,’ she said, nodding towards Penn, who was now listening and who had also been silent since the boss had left. ‘Normally we’d be throwing around ideas, spinning theories, bouncing off each other.’

Frost looked from her to Penn. ‘What’s stopping you?’

‘Not knowing how much of what we say is gonna end up in one of your articles either now or sometime in the future.’

‘Absolutely nothing. Firstly, I brought this to you, so I’m just as invested. Secondly, I don’t even care about your conversations. Thirdly, it has been made very clear to me what I’ll lose if one word of what you discuss leaves this room.’

‘What will you lose?’ Penn asked.

‘According to your boss, my life.’

In spite of herself, Stacey chuckled. Not one of them understood the dynamic between the boss and the reporter, but if Kim trusted her, then she had to as well.

She just couldn’t help feeling that Frost was judging their every move. While attempting to track the phone number being used by the Jester, she’d found herself wondering if Frost was thinking she was wasting her time or thinking she should have been working on something else. It would be no surprise to anyone that the phone he was using was a burner, but they’d had to check it out.

Stacey resolved that she would do her job normally and pretend Frost wasn’t even in the room.

‘Okay, Penn,’ she said, turning her attention back to her colleague and the case. ‘What are you working on?’

‘I tried googling the name “the Jester”, but without a team of five to work through the millions of search results, I’m a bit stuck on that.’

Stacey could imagine. She had been searching for anything similar in other forces’ records and had so far come up blank. She’d had the same result checking for the Jester on the main boards of the Seekers’ and other geocaching sites.

Of the other tasks set by the boss, Frost herself was working on why he’d chosen her, so that left only one thing they could do.

‘Okay, let’s work on the clue,’ Stacey said, looking to where Penn had written it on the board.

‘Let’s take out key words: human, nature, spring, food.’

Penn stood and noted the four words separately on the board.

Stacey called out words as Penn wrote them down. They were a mixture of what she was looking at on screen and words already in her head.

‘Human, person, being, individual, citizen, mortal, species.’

She waited for him to catch up.

‘Nature, insects, wildlife, forests, flowers, plants, hiking, traits, personality.’

Stacey paused.

‘Spring, summer, winter, autumn, season, coil, spiral.’

She paused again.

‘Food, sustenance, fuel, eat and way too many more to even consider,’ she said, looking at the board, which was now awash with random words. She hadn’t had a clue before, and she had even less idea now.

What the hell kind of mind came up with stuff like this? And more importantly, what else were they capable of?

TEN

8.15 A.M.

Kim was surprised at both the building and the man waiting for them as they pulled up at the premises of Seekers Inc.

The area itself was semi-rural and the property lay at the end of a short lane from the main road that linked Telford to Ironbridge.

The old stone building looked to have once been some kind of gatehouse, set next to an open field with a stream that ran behind it and snaked off to the right.

Other than a couple of oil stains, the driveway was clean and weed free, offering a positive first impression.

Similarly, the man that awaited them was probably early forties, slim but athletic looking, dressed in jeans and a blue tee shirt and also giving a positive first impression. For some reason, she could picture him and Frost as a couple. She’d decided in the car to leave Frost’s name out of it until the very last moment. She wanted to observe his natural reactions to questions before throwing her name into the mix.

They walked past a parked BMW towards Ryan Douglas, who was smiling pleasantly as though he hadn’t been woken early on a Sunday morning.

‘Sorry for disturbing your weekend, Mr Douglas,’ Kim said.

‘Ryan, please,’ he said, offering his hand.

Bryant took it and introduced them both.

Ryan turned to open the door. ‘As a lover of mysteries, it’s far more important to me that CID want to speak to me than getting another hour in bed. Please come in,’ he said, moving past the staircase that was a few feet away from the door.

Ryan caught her glance upwards.

‘More of the same, including the server room, but this floor has the kitchen. I don’t mind the early morning, but I do need the coffee.’

They followed him through a spacious room filled with desks and computers, all with a view out of the large windows. Kim guessed this open space was the result of a few rooms knocked into one.

‘Not a bad place to come to work,’ Bryant said, although he seemed to be more focussed on the baskets of wrapped pastries on the countertop.

‘No one ever said work had to be a drudge all the time. A contented workforce is a productive workforce,’ Ryan said, taking three mugs from the cupboard. At this time in the morning, she didn’t mind his assumption.

‘It’s instant but it’s good stuff,’ he said, spooning in the coffee. ‘Milk and sugar?’ he asked.

‘Both,’ Bryant said.

‘Neither,’ Kim said as the kettle boiled.

‘Please, take a seat. I can barely contain my interest as to what this is about.’

Kim shot a glance at Bryant, who raised one eyebrow. For a man of his age, there seemed to be a childlike excitement about him.

‘So, Seekers is your company, Mr… sorry, Ryan?’

‘It is indeed,’ he said proudly, placing the mugs on the table.

‘Tell us about it,’ Kim said as he took a seat. She was hoping this would send the message that they would be asking the questions not answering them.

‘My dad used to take me letterboxing when I was a kid.’

Their blank stares prompted him to explain.

‘Letterboxing started in Dartmoor, Devon in 1854. It’s an outdoor hobby that combines orienteering, art, puzzle solving. Thousands of walkers gather for the box hunts and the twice-yearly meetup. There are letterboxes set around the site so it’s a bit like a treasure hunt, but other than that, attendees just compare which letterboxes they’ve found and talk about new ones that have been placed since the last meetup.’

‘Placed by who?’ Kim asked, trying to understand the fascination.

‘Anyone who wants to. There are newsletters that announce new letterboxes, an annual catalogue, websites and some are spread by word of mouth. All depends on the person leaving the box how they want to publicise it. This all started way before Randonautica, Munzee or even geocaching.’

He paused.

‘Ryan, it’s safe to assume we have very little experience of what you’re talking about. We’re gonna need you to give us a crash course.’

‘Okay, Munzee is a scavenger hunt game where QR codes have to be found in the real world. There are over twelve million codes to find in 240 countries and they have over half a million registered users. Randonautica is based on randomly generated⁠—’

‘Yeah, we know a bit more about that one,’ Kim interrupted. That wasn’t what they were dealing with. ‘What was the other one?’

‘Geocaching is where participants use a GPS receiver or mobile device and other navigational techniques to hide and seek containers called caches. As of last year, there were over three million active caches worldwide.’

‘What exactly is a cache?’ Bryant asked.

‘A typical one is a small waterproof container with a logbook and a pen or pencil. When they find one, the geocacher signs the log and dates it to prove they found it. After signing the logbook, they put it back and record the co-ordinates.

‘The first documented cache was in Oregon in 2000 and contained software, videos, books, money, a can of beans and a catapult.’

‘Okay. So, where does your company come into it?’ Kim asked.

‘Okay, let me take you step by step. We’re a listing site. The biggest in the country to be exact. Let’s say you want to set a puzzle. You register with our site and list your puzzle on whichever board suits your trail.’

‘There are different boards?’ Kim asked.

‘Of course. Not everyone likes the same type of puzzle. Some people like single-box puzzles, others like multi-box trails, some like co-ordinates, some like clues.’

‘How would I start if I wanted to set a multi-box puzzle?’ Kim asked.

‘You would give your trail a title – the catchier the better – and either give the co-ordinates or a clue to finding the first box.’

‘So, who can upload a new trail?’ Kim asked.

‘Any member,’ Ryan answered.

‘It’s totally membership based?’ Kim asked, feeling a seed of hope. If their guy liked setting puzzles, there was every chance he’d be on the biggest site in the country.

‘Oh, yeah, totally. We have an annual subscription fee for all members and then optional extra costs for other content.’

‘Other content?’

‘Access to chat rooms, discounts on merchandise, that kind of thing.’

‘And you make good money from that?’ Kim asked.

‘Not so much in the early days, when our members were in the hundreds. Back then it was just me and my fellow director existing on handouts from family and friends. We struggled to get things going, and then the world changed overnight.’

‘Covid?’ Bryant asked.

Ryan nodded. Kim looked for any hint of regret that his business had grown off the back of a worldwide pandemic. She found none.

‘Suddenly everyone wanted to do something outside with a purpose. Pretty much the only thing left open was the countryside. The whole concept grew and expanded rapidly.’

‘Expanded how?’ Kim asked, taking a sip of her coffee. He was right. It was the good shit.

‘Now we’ve got all kinds of caches in addition to the traditional ones, which contain a logbook and exact co-ordinates to the next box.’

‘What are the others?’ Kim asked, savouring the coffee.

‘We’ve got multiple caches which involve a puzzle, and moving caches where each finder moves the cache to another location. There are chirp caches where you use wireless beacon technology, night caches which are intended to be found at night, obviously, following a series of reflectors.’

‘Tell us more about these multiple caches,’ Kim said.

‘The trail involves one or more stages, and each box contains clues to the location of the next box. You have to solve the puzzle to move on to the next stage.’

‘Or what?’ Kim asked, realising this was the closest thing to what they could be dealing with.

Ryan frowned. ‘I’m not quite sure what you mean.’

‘What are the consequences of not finding the next box?’

‘Inspector, I think you’re getting the wrong end of the stick. There are no consequences. It’s fun. You play for as long as you want to. There are very few rules.’

‘But what are the rules?’ Bryant asked.

‘If you take an item from the box, you should replace it with something of equal or higher value. Often it’s small toys, ornamental buttons, unusual coins, CDs, books, even disposable cameras. Sometimes you get hitchhikers.’

The blank stare seemed to be resting on her face a lot during this meeting.

‘Those are objects moved from box to box. The objects are logged and followed. Sometimes higher-value items are included as a reward for the first person to find the box. Assuming the box doesn’t get muggled.’

‘Muggled?’ Bryant asked.

‘Sorry, muggles are people not familiar with geocaching. At one end, there are what we call drive-bys, which are simple caches left by the road – people stumble over them occasionally. At the other end of the spectrum, you have ones that involve lengthy searches or significant travel.’

‘And you have different areas of the website for all of these variations?’ Kim asked.

‘Of course,’ he said, smiling. ‘That’s how we remain market leaders and the fastest-growing site in the country.’

She tipped her head. ‘You know, Ryan, you’ve presented us with a completely innocent, fun, healthy hobby that combines exercise and mental stimulation. Are you telling me there’s no dark side to this activity? It’s human nature to exploit even the most innocent pastime.’

‘Well, I mean, there are always some who⁠—’

‘Yes, I thought that might be your answer. I think it would be a good idea for you to tell us about those people.’

He hesitated before gathering their cups and heading back to the kettle.

ELEVEN

8.35 A.M.

‘Nothing,’ Penn said, putting down the phone. He’d decided to shelve the clue for a while and turn his attention to something concrete he could investigate.

‘You will not miss the first’, the email had read. The most serious thing that could be missing was a person, but after searching the database he’d established that there were no new reports of missing people.

A quick call to Jack on the desk had confirmed that no recent reports had been filed that hadn’t yet made it onto the database.

‘Maybe it’s not a person,’ Stacey offered, breaking her focus on trying to work out the clue.

‘He’s already told us that if we don’t perform, someone is going to get hurt,’ Penn pushed back.

‘Doesn’t necessarily mean he’s going to abduct someone.’ She paused. ‘If we’re being totally honest, we don’t even know for sure that this guy isn’t yanking our chain and just messing with us for some Sunday morning entertainment.’

Although she shouldn’t have been listening, Penn saw a nod of agreement from Frost, which was ironic given that she had brought it to them in the first place.

‘Could even be some kind of team-building exercise, elaborate admittedly, but possible,’ Stacey added.

He considered her point. Yes, there were organisations that sprang incidents on their teams and then assessed their performance, but wouldn’t the police force more likely invent a major investigation instead of some kind of treasure hunt? Even though he doubted it at this point, he couldn’t rule it out.

‘If so, I wouldn’t want to be in their shoes when the boss gets hold of them.’

Even Frost snickered at that.

‘We’ve agreed to play along so we all think there’s a chance this might be real,’ Penn said, picturing what he should have been doing. That image led straight into the vision of Lynne still snuggled in his bed. He quickly pushed that thought away.

‘So, if we’re to assume that every word means something, then the words “you won’t miss the first” have to contain the answer. How will we not miss something important?’

‘If you didn’t even notice you had it?’ Stacey said.

Penn nodded his agreement. ‘That’s one way.’

‘Low value,’ Frost offered without raising her head.

They both glared at her.

‘Sorry,’ she said, holding up her hand.

‘She’s right though,’ Penn conceded. ‘We don’t miss what we class as low-value items if they suddenly disappear.’

‘But it has to be something he knows is of high value to us or we wouldn’t even entertain the chase,’ Stacey insisted. ‘I love a bag of chicken crisps, but I ain’t gonna spend my day off running round the Black Country for them.’

‘Okay, so we’re looking for something we know we have which we don’t necessarily notice and is of low value to him but high value to us that is now missing.’

‘Yep, so whatever the item…’

‘Not an item, Stace. It has to be a person.’

‘We’ve been through that,’ Stacey argued as the puzzle turned to a theory in his mind.

‘Not totally.’

‘No missing person reports.’

‘Low value, unnoticed but important to us…’

‘Oh shit,’ she said as Penn reached for his coat.

The bastard was talking about the homeless.

TWELVE

8.45 A.M.

With a second mug of coffee set before her, Kim felt that she was being fuelled for the day. If the police force ever kicked her out, she was coming here to apply for a job even though she hadn’t yet worked out if she liked Ryan Douglas.

‘You were saying?’ Kim prompted him.

While he’d been making the coffee, she’d checked her phone, but there were no emails or texts from the rest of her team. She hoped they were making progress on the clue as they were nearly two hours from the first deadline.

‘Aren’t you going to at least give me a clue why you’re asking?’ Ryan said.

‘Doesn’t work that way,’ Kim answered shortly. He was enjoying this just a little too much.

He sighed. ‘Okay, there have been occasions where the hobby has caused problems. It caused the evacuation of a busy street in Wetherby, Yorkshire in 2011. Another one in Alvaston, Derby in 2020. I think a school in Colorado was evacuated in 2009. Locations from rural cemeteries to Disneyland have been locked down due to strange packages being left in random locations.’

‘Any deaths?’ Kim asked.

His eyes widened. ‘You’re investigating a death?’

His excitement was pressing on the nerve that controlled her annoyance. ‘Please answer the question.’

‘A twenty-one-year-old experienced cacher died in 2011 attempting to find a cache in Washington. And some folks just get lost. I think one time three adults got trapped in a cave in Rochester, New York, and in 2015, a group of geocachers were spotted walking into the Severn Estuary off Clevedon looking for clues.’

‘Why take that kind of risk for a game?’ Bryant asked.

Ryan shook his head. ‘It’s more than a game. It’s a challenge; it’s an achievement. Once you’re invested, you push yourself to do the best you can.’

‘Even over cliffs?’ Kim asked.

‘Hey, caches have been helpful too,’ he said defensively. ‘About fifteen years ago, two lost hikers in Oregon stumbled across a cache; they phoned the co-ordinates to rescuers so they could be located.’

Kim waited.

Nothing.

‘That’s it? You can tell me about a few deaths but only one incident of usefulness?’

‘You can’t measure people’s enjoyment of the game,’ Ryan said defensively.

‘Yeah, about that. Is there any such thing as too invested?’ she asked.

‘Not sure what you mean.’

‘Is it competitive?’ she pushed.

‘Isn’t everything?’ he countered. ‘I mean, you have people that go seeking a couple of times per year. Others are out every minute they get, looking for the harder ones. If you’re invested, then you push yourself.’

Kim could understand about pushing yourself. Athletes trained for years to compete, but with them there was a goal, an endgame: Olympic gold, a world record, a place in history.

‘Do they get a trophy or something?’ she asked.

‘Just bragging rights in the chat rooms really.’

‘And these chat rooms…?’

‘Are on every caching forum. It’s a community, and very few enthusiasts are on one site.’

‘In your experience, are the people leaving the caches just as passionate about finding the ones logged by other people?’ Kim asked, wondering if they were looking more at leavers or finders.

Ryan thought for a minute before nodding. ‘I’d say so. Being a good leaver would naturally extend from being a good finder. You know what appeals to you, so you know how to entertain others.’

That made sense, although it didn’t help narrow her field at all.

Looked like one of her team was going to be joining a lot of geocaching sites.

Finally, the question she’d been waiting to ask.

‘Do you remember dating someone named Tracy Frost?’

Ryan frowned and began to shake his head. There were no obvious signs of deception, but there wouldn’t be if he’d been expecting the question.

‘Some time ago now. Tall, long blonde hair…’

‘You mean Peggy?’ he asked as recognition dawned on his face.

Kim felt herself bristle.

‘I called her Peg Leg because of the limp. She hated when I did that,’ he said with a fond smile.

No shit, Kim thought.

‘You called your girlfriend mean names?’ Kim queried.

Okay, now she’d made a decision. She didn’t like Ryan Douglas at all. But she did still need his co-operation.

‘Oh, she knew I was joking,’ he said, waving away her concerns. ‘Haven’t thought of her in years.’

‘When were you last in contact with her?’

‘Good grief, not for twenty years. Broke my heart when she left.’

‘Left where?’

‘My flat.’

Frost had really played this down. She’d made it sound like a brief encounter when instead they’d actually lived together when she was seventeen years old.

‘Can’t think for the life of me why you’re asking me about her now,’ he said, shaking his head.

And Kim couldn’t work out if he was lying or genuinely bewildered. It looked like she was going to need more detail from Frost after all.

‘Never mind. Are you aware of someone using your site that goes by the name of Jester?’

He opened up his hands. ‘Officer, we have in excess of fifty thousand registered users so one name isn’t⁠—’

‘But you don’t recognise it off the top of your head?’ she pushed.

‘No,’ he said emphatically. ‘Definitely not.’

It had been a slim hope. Looked like they were taking the long way round.

‘Okay, if I can just get a list of those site users, we can⁠—’

‘Not a chance,’ Ryan said, shaking his head.

All signs of the affable man talking about his hobby with enthusiasm had been replaced by the owner of a business responsible for the personal details of thousands of people held upstairs in the server room.

‘You do remember that we introduced ourselves as police officers?’ she asked tightly.

‘Absolutely, and you’ve given me no reason why you’re here.’

‘We’re carrying out a serious investigation,’ Kim offered, realising she couldn’t even say the word crime.

‘Did someone die?’ he asked. ‘Did Peg— Tracy die?’

‘Didn’t you say that people rarely die?’

He shrugged. ‘Just wanna know what’s going on.’

‘I can’t share any details right now, but we’d appreciate your co-operation with those names,’ she said, trying to engage his will to assist.

‘Not happening,’ he repeated, taking her half-full mug to the sink. It appeared that the time for niceties was over and they were being asked to leave.

‘What are you hiding, Mr Douglas?’

‘The privacy of my customers.’

‘You’re hardly running a child pornography ring or a dating site for married people. Is there any reason why your clients would object to their details being shared?’

‘That’s not really the point. I’m the gatekeeper of personal information, and you’ve given me no good reason to break that trust.’

Kim felt her frustration growing. One of her pet hates was people obstructing her ability to do her job. Even if legally they were doing nothing wrong.

‘I can get a warrant,’ she pushed.

‘No you can’t, and even if you could, it’s Sunday and I’m closing the office up right after you leave. I’ll be available along with my lawyer during normal business hours tomorrow.’

‘Why would you need your lawyer, Mr Douglas?’ she asked.

‘Because I’m not going to be bullied by you into giving up my customers’ personal data when you won’t even tell me why.’

He stood by the kitchen door and nodded to the front door, indicating that it was time for them to leave.

They stepped outside, and the door was closed firmly behind them.

‘It truly is a gift you have there, guv,’ Bryant said, heading back towards the car.

She said nothing.

‘I mean, who else can turn a completely willing and co-operative asset into an aggressively hostile enemy in under ten minutes? Seriously, it’s a joy to watch,’ he said, shaking his head.

Kim still chose not to respond. She was too busy wondering why a request for information had ruffled his feathers to that degree and why he’d been so emphatic in his denial of recognising the name of the Jester?

What exactly was Mr Douglas wanting to hide?

THIRTEEN

9.30 A.M.

‘Bloody hell,’ Stacey growled. She was still trying to make sense of the first damn clue. Her brain just wasn’t offering her any options. She could only pray the clues didn’t get harder or they were fucked.

It didn’t help that her brainstorming partner had left the office to go searching for information on any missing homeless people.

It was a community he’d explored during an earlier case, and Stacey wished him all the luck in trying to find someone amongst those lost souls. It wasn’t like there was a daily roll call where they all had to attend, raise their hand and shout ‘yep, still homeless’. Most likely a fruitless task but well worth exploring.

Unfortunately, that left her with only her own brain and no one, except Google, to bounce ideas off.

So far, she’d put every combination of the keywords she could think of into the search engine and got absolutely nowhere. On this occasion, Google was not being her best friend.

The frustration was building. Penn was better at puzzles, yet she had no background with the homeless community, so she couldn’t even switch places with him.

The only thing she had was Frost, who was finally doing what she should and staying quiet.

‘It’s human nature to spring your food well,’ she said aloud as though Frost wasn’t in the room. If Frost named her in an article as some kind of crazy lady that had one-sided conversations, she’d deal with it then.

For some reason, she felt that closing her eyes and saying the words out loud in a stream of consciousness might free her up from reading the words over and over again.

‘Human nature, human, animal, bird, amphibian, insect, person, nature, personal nature, season, spring, summer, autumn, winter, summer, personal nature, it’s personal nature to season, winter, freeze your food well, ice, Iceland, North Pole, South Pole, well, water, bucket.’

Stacey took a breath, allowing more words to swim into her brain.

‘Spring, season, salt, well…’

Stacey stopped speaking as the words fell into place.

She reached for the phone.

She finally knew where the boss had to go.

FOURTEEN

10.20 A.M.

‘We’re almost back with you, Stace,’ Kim said, answering the phone. An accident and a tractor had slowed down their return trip.

‘No, don’t come back. Head to Dudley Wood.’

‘Why?’

‘Cos I think that’s where you’ll find the next clue. It’s human nature to spring your food well. Season your food, salt food well.’

‘Saltwells Nature Reserve,’ Kim said. ‘You sure?’

‘No, but it’s all I’ve got.’

Sounded good to her. ‘Thanks, Stace.’

She shook her head as Bryant changed direction. Puzzles were so bloody simple once you knew the answer.

‘Come on, Bryant – speed her up a bit. We have a location.’

‘I know, guv, the Saltwells pub and nature reserve. It’s a decent size, and we don’t even know what we’re looking for. I don’t know what’s gonna happen at eleven, but I’m pretty sure we’re gonna find out.’

Kim already knew the numbers. The whole site was almost one hundred hectares in total and was two and a half miles long.

She was still thinking about how to divide that area equally between the two of them as Bryant pulled into the car park, which in itself was a reasonable size.

She jumped out of the car and approached the information board which displayed a map of the nature reserve. She couldn’t help wondering at the significance of 11 a.m. She knew the pub didn’t open until twelve so she’d ruled out finding anything inside the premises.

‘Jesus, guv, there’s only two of us,’ Bryant said, casting his gaze over the total area.

‘No shit,’ she said, trying to work out a route for both of them so they could cover the largest amount of ground in the shortest time.

It was impossible. The site was a mixture of rough terrain with trees, open ground, impenetrable vegetation, undergrowth and areas of water.

‘The best we can do is stick to the paths and hope we spot something,’ Kim said, tracing the lines with her fingers.

‘You take this one,’ she said, pointing to the main path. Although it wound off at different spots, it did cover much of the western side of the reserve.

‘I’ll try and follow this one,’ she said, tracing the line of a smaller path, a lot less obvious but still used by many people. There was a marker for a third indistinct path they had no chance of searching with just the two of them.

‘Okay, we’ve got half an hour. Make it count,’ Kim said as they went in opposite directions.

Twenty minutes later, Kim had worked her way through woods, along paths, over bridges, alongside streams and had come up empty.

She was about to head to the lake when something caught her attention, but it was nothing on the ground.

She took out her phone and called Bryant. He answered on the second ring.

‘You hear that?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, what is it?’

‘Vehicles. Quite a few of them, heading towards the car park.’

‘Why? The pub isn’t open yet,’ Bryant said before cursing at something.

‘I know,’ she said, checking her watch. It was ten minutes to the deadline. ‘What the hell is happening at eleven o’clock?’

‘Not sure, guv, but we’d best find out,’ he said, ending the call.

She made her way back the way she’d come, half sprinting and still half searching.

She and Bryant reached the car park at the same time.

The space looked very different to when they’d left it. There were now fifteen or twenty cars and small groups of people congregating.

With Bryant not far behind, Kim headed for the largest group that was closest to the Saltwells pub. As she got closer, she saw there was a table holding name badges, refuse sacks, hi-vis vests and grabber tools.

The man standing behind the table appraised her and frowned.

‘What’s happening?’ Kim asked, showing her identification.

His frown deepened as he reached for a label and patted it on to his sweatshirt.

‘I’m Fred Guest, chairman of the Saltwells Friends Association. It’s our bi-annual litter-pick.’

She looked around as more people came closer.

Great, around thirty people traipsing across the whole area and destroying every possibility of preserving anything of interest.

She had no idea what there was to find, but she knew there was something.

‘You need to cancel it,’ she said.

‘Why? These people have given up their free time. The date has been planned for months.’

‘You’ll have to rearrange it.’

He looked horrified. ‘Do you have any idea what it takes to arrange this? We have to protect the wildlife.’

‘Yeah, great, you just can’t do it today.’

‘Why not?’ he asked as the crowd closed in, everyone eager to hear.

‘Err… because I said so,’ she answered, wondering why being a police officer wasn’t enough for anyone today.

Bolstered by the appearance of his fellow volunteers, Fred’s chest expanded right in front of her.

He looked past her, towards the reserve. ‘Clearly there’s no ongoing incident, and it doesn’t appear to be a crime scene, so on what grounds do you want me to cancel?’

Jesus, Fred was serious about protecting his litter-pick.

‘There’s an item in there that’s of interest to us,’ she said, giving him as much information as she had herself.

He waited for more.

There was no more.

He shook his head. ‘Sorry, Inspector, but that wasn’t a compelling argument. We’re going to carry on unless you have some kind of paperwork.’

His unspoken words were that there was nothing she could do to stop it.

And he wasn’t wrong. She had no authority to close down his event based on the information she had.

For just a minute, Kim wondered what the hell they were doing.

She had no body, no missing person and she was looking for the first clue in what had been threatened as a thirty-six hour game. She was standing here arguing with the organiser of a bloody litter-pick, and she was half expecting someone to charge out of the bushes and announce she’d been pranked.

Part of her wanted to throw her hands in the air and go home. She could still salvage the rest of her weekend and pretend Frost had never come to her door. But she had to weigh up her gut feeling that bad things would happen if she did that.

Standing before her was Fred, an immovable force who was sending his litter-pickers in whether she liked it or not.

She sighed heavily. ‘Okay, Fred, let’s look at this another way.’

FIFTEEN

10.55 A.M.

It wasn’t only the police team that was uncomfortable with Frost’s presence in the squad room. She herself wasn’t exactly chilled about it, and the mention of Ryan Douglas had done little to relax her.

It was a name she’d worked hard to forget over the years, and just hearing it had transported her to the darkest time of her life.

She had been seventeen when she’d fallen for the charms of the twenty-one-year-old man who had seemed both sophisticated and worldly to her young mind. He had a good job in software programming, a nice car and his own flat. She’d just dropped out of college and was struggling to exchange one civil word with her mother. After exactly five dates, she’d moved in with him, and very grateful she was to have done so. At first.

Initially, she’d ignored the subtle hints about her not contributing to the bills, and she’d tried to stick to the many rules he imposed.

No food in the car.

No shitting in the en-suite bathroom.

All opened food in the fridge in Tupperware.

The rules went on and on, and sometimes she’d had a hard time keeping track of them. And then one day she failed.

The first time she broke a rule, he started calling her Peggy and asked her to limp less when out with him in public. The second time, he pushed her against the fridge, and the third time, he punched her in the jaw.

There hadn’t been a fourth time because she’d packed her bags and left the following day. Her mother had refused to have her back, and after sofa surfing for a couple of months, she’d landed a job as general dogsbody at the Dudley Star and managed to rent a room for a hundred quid a month.

It had been the darkest, most lonely time of her life and not a period she chose to remember. But a small voice kept nagging at the back of her mind. Could he be behind this? Was he planning to use them in some way to rustle up more business? But why now? He’d probably made a killing during the pandemic. He owned the company, so he couldn’t need the money, but could there be some other motive? He’d been an arrogant, controlling dickhead when they’d been together, and she had no idea if the intervening twenty years had altered that.

She pulled herself back to the present and focussed on the job at hand. The man had taken up enough of her time.

Even though she was under strict instructions not to speak, which was hard for her, obeying the instruction not to listen was even harder. She didn’t really want to be privy to the inner workings of a police investigation though.

She understood the irony of that fact given that she was a reporter and many of her colleagues would sell their granny to be in her position, but she was unable to use anything she saw or heard for fear of her life. Even if she had been able to use her observations, she still wouldn’t want to. It was like sausages. They tasted good, but you didn’t want to see how they were made.

Like regular members of the public, she too wanted to believe that the greatest minds in the country were in these offices, solving crimes, catching bad people. She wanted to hold on to that image so she could feel safe in her bed.

She also wanted to be able to criticise the police for poor performance when she felt it was warranted. That was harder to do with pictures of one of them running off in search of a potential missing homeless person and the other wracking her brain trying to solve a puzzle. They weren’t images she needed in her head if she was to remain objective.

And all this because she had brought it to them. She was responsible for pulling four officers away from their weekends, and she could see the seriousness with which the investigation was being treated.

What if she was wrong? What if it was all a hoax? Her life wouldn’t be worth living if she was responsible for sending the team on a wild goose chase.

To make up for that possibility, she’d been busy doing what Stone had instructed and had so far trawled back a month or so, going over every article she’d written in detail to see if she could establish why she’d been chosen. There were other local reporters at other local newspapers. She’d not covered anything that seemed remotely connected.

And what of the article she was supposed to write?

Something from her was supposed to appear online by noon. She had exactly one hour to find an angle, write the article and get it authorised by her boss.

Not one of those things was as easy as it should be for a reporter.

Before she wrote anything at all, she had a phone call to make.

SIXTEEN

11.10 A.M.

‘What do you mean he said no?’ Kim barked into the phone.

It was ten minutes since she’d gathered all the litter-picking volunteers together and enlisted their help.

Accepting that she had no authority to stop the event going ahead, she had recruited them all to search instead.

As she was unable to tell them what she was looking for, she’d asked them to be on the lookout for a small box, or anything out of the ordinary.

She and Bryant had been about to rejoin the search when Frost’s name had appeared on her phone. As if that wasn’t bad enough, the news she brought was even worse.

‘Did you explain it properly?’ Kim asked, putting her on speaker. It had to be Frost’s fault. No reasonable boss would tell her she couldn’t write the articles.

‘I read him every communication.’

‘And did you tell him that we’re treating it as a credible threat?’ Kim asked.

‘Yeah, and you don’t want me to repeat his thoughts on that. Safe to say he thinks we’ve all got nothing better to do with our time, but with more swear words.’

‘Jesus, Frost, we have to do what he wants until we know what’s at stake.’

‘I know, but he’s my boss. What do you expect me to do?’

Kim bit back her irritation ‘You just gotta⁠—’

‘Guv,’ Bryant interrupted, tapping her arm and pointing to the bottom of the car park where Fred, the self-appointed hub for all contact, was waving at them wildly.

‘Gotta go,’ she said, ending the call before sprinting down to Fred.

‘Jerry’s just called in a box, under the bridge. I’ll take you to⁠—’

‘I know where it is,’ Kim said, moving away. She’d walked over it less than half an hour before.

Within minutes, they were at the bridge where Jerry was standing guard as though the box was going to grow legs and run away. She had to respect the litter-pickers for taking the task seriously.

‘Show me,’ she said.

He bent down. ‘I was reaching under here for a Coke can and my grabber hit something metallic. Looks like one of those old petty cash tins. Seems out of place,’ he said excitedly.

Jerry appeared to be enjoying himself immensely. He sure hadn’t thought he’d be instrumental in a police search when he’d turned up this morning to pick up cans, sweet wrappers and goodness knows what else.

Kim kneeled down and took a look. Jerry was right.

‘May I?’ she asked, holding out her hand.

He placed the grabber handle in her palm.

She used the long arm to prise the tin free and then scoop it towards her. She briefly considered calling the forensic techies, but right now she had nothing to tell them.

For all she knew, the only thing in the box could be a big fat ‘Gotcha’ note. If so, she could buy her team a late breakfast, send them home and forget all about it. But her gut said otherwise.

‘Thanks, Jerry – good job,’ she said as Fred finally caught up with them.

‘Guys, just step this way for me,’ Bryant said, corralling them to the side as another couple of litter-pickers appeared.

She saw immediately that there was no key in the lock.

Having moved the people away, Bryant reappeared and handed her a pair of latex gloves.

‘I mean, why would you have a pair of these in every piece of clothing you own?’

He produced another pair with a grin. ‘Even weirder that I’ve got two pairs cos you always forget.’

He wasn’t wrong, she thought as she tentatively lifted the lid of the box.

Inside were three things.

An index card.

A small white envelope.

An old Dictaphone.

‘Card first,’ Bryant suggested.

She picked it up and read the words aloud.

‘“Cubed chieftain slithers around Bonzo. Find my next by three or…”’ Kim paused and shook her head. ‘What the hell?’

Having donned his own gloves, Bryant took the card from her and took out his phone.

She already knew he’d be calling Stacey to pass along what had to be the next clue.

Next, she reached for the envelope that looked like it was from some kind of stationery kit. She turned it around, looking for any hints. The envelope had a bulge but wasn’t heavy.

Kim lifted the flap with no idea what she was going to find inside.

‘Oh, Jesus Christ,’ she said as the nausea rose in her stomach.

Having read out the clue, Bryant ended his call to Stacey and looked over her shoulder.

‘What the…? Oh no,’ he said, clenching his fist as though to protect his own.

Contained in the envelope were a bunch of dirty, bloody fingernails that had obviously been ripped from the nailbed.

Kim looked up at the group of volunteers that were inching closer.

‘Get ’em back, Fred, right back,’ she instructed.

He hesitated before springing into action and shepherding the volunteers away.

Once they were out of sight, she pressed play on the Dictaphone.

Suspecting what she was about to hear didn’t make the sound of the scream any less gut-wrenching.

Neither she nor Bryant spoke as they listened in horror to a total of ten pain-filled shrieks.

The Dictaphone automatically switched off after the tenth scream. Kim could only imagine the agony of having each nail ripped out one by one.

The tape had served to tell them two things. The first was that the Jester had abducted a man and that by now he expected them to know that. Otherwise he wouldn’t have allowed that fact to be revealed.

The second was that this wasn’t a hoax. Any thought of not playing along was banished.

It was now evident to her that they were dealing with one sick individual. Had he inflicted the torture because he enjoyed it and gained some kind of twisted satisfaction from it, or was it to prove to them that this was more than just a game?

She thought about his original threat and his insistence that they follow his clues and play by his rules.

She now believed that if they didn’t, someone was going to die.

SEVENTEEN

11.25 A.M.

Penn already knew that trying to establish if there was a missing person amongst the local homeless community was a gargantuan task. The whole lifestyle meant freedom to move around and remain unaccounted for. The anonymity rendered many vagrants invisible, and that’s how some of them wanted to stay.

He held no judgement about any person living on the streets. He knew that many had been forced onto that path through substance abuse, but there were other stories too: broken homes, sudden financial loss, mental illness. He’d also learned through another major case that for a small minority it was a conscious choice, a chosen and preferred way to live without the constraints of a job, a home, family, bills.

He supposed in one way he could understand it, but he’d happily cope with all those things in return for knowing where he was going to lay his head each night.

Another myth that had been busted during that previous investigation was of a brotherhood. A community that took care of its own. The only thing that mattered was survival, and if you had to play dirty to get the best spot, that’s what you did.

And that was why he guessed that the man he was about to approach might have more answers than most.

The bearded guy sitting at the entrance to Stourbridge’s Ryemarket Shopping Centre had secured himself the prime spot for this time of day.

‘Yo, buddy, shift yer carcass,’ the guy shouted as Penn stopped in front of him.

Penn bent down and introduced himself.

‘Couldn’t give less of a shit, mate. You’re blocking the view of poor little me from all these lovely, generous shoppers.’

‘Can I ask you a few questions?’ Penn asked, moving to the side as a young guy tossed a coin in the man’s tin.

‘Thanks, fella,’ he called before scowling in Penn’s direction. ‘You don’t think Sundays are hard enough?’

‘How so?’ Penn asked.

‘Shorter trading day. Only got a few hours to make some coin. Thanks, fella,’ he called again as another coin landed. Penn had no idea of the coin denomination, but every contribution elicited the same depth of gratitude.

‘You’re on prime time now. Better to catch ’em going in while they ain’t carrying bags. More likely to go to the trouble of reaching for their wallets,’ he said as a few people passed without any offerings.

‘Man, you’re bad for business. Naff off.’

‘Well, you must be doing okay to have secured this spot at prime time with no one else around. How’d you manage that?’

‘Told WhatsApp there were some breakfasts on the byfers at the coffee shop.’

Penn didn’t need telling that byfers were drinks and meals pre-paid by customers to help the homeless.

‘You got a WhatsApp group?’ he asked.

The man laughed, showing a toothless grin. ‘Yeah, man, I’ve got everything installed on my brand-new iPhone. Jeez you’re way too gullible to be a copper. WhatsApp has just been around the longest and knows everybody’s business.’

Of course. Penn had forgotten that many of the homeless went by nicknames.

‘And what’s your name?’ Penn asked, taking a seat on the ground beside him.

‘Aww, mate, sod off, eh, or at least leave me be until business hours are over. You ain’t helping my lonely, vulnerable image.’

Penn took a coin from his pocket and chucked it in the tin.

‘Seeing as you asked nicely, you can call me Stig.’

‘Okay, Stig, any of your buddies gone missing recently?’

‘Yer havin’ a laugh?’

Penn shrugged and waited.

‘Fella, I don’t know if I’m gonna see folks from one day to another. You get the meaning of the word transient? We move around. If I don’t see someone for weeks, I don’t think about it, I don’t worry and I don’t expect anyone to worry about me. I’ll assume they’ve moved town or that they’re dead,’ he said, shrugging to indicate that either possibility was all the same to him.

‘So, you wouldn’t know if someone had been taken against their will?’

Stig laughed again, louder this time. ‘What makes you think it would be against their will? They ain’t really gonna be taken anywhere worse than this.’

‘Even if they end up dead?’

‘Hot meal and a safe, warm bed first and they might not be too fussed when it’s minus four out.’

Penn’s disbelief showed on his face.

‘Not everybody,’ Stig said, waving his hand in acknowledgement.

Realising that he was indeed bad for Stig’s business, Penn reached into his pocket and threw another coin into the tin. Stig’s generous benefactors had dried up since he’d sat down beside the guy. And Penn understood it. The homeless guy was someone else’s problem now. Someone else was going to take care of him, take him to a shelter or for a warm meal. They no longer had to search their conscience or their wallets.

‘You gotta understand, fella, that I can sit here and talk to you for hours, but the minute you’re gone, I won’t think of you again. Cheers, mate,’ Stig called out again as another coin rattled down.

Penn probably found that the saddest of all. There were people in his life that he was bonded to. Like Jasper, his brother, who, despite Down’s syndrome, was achieving a level of independence that Penn could never have dreamed of for him.

He had always known that taking care of Jasper would fall to him, and that had been okay. He’d arranged his life accordingly. He’d transferred from West Mercia to West Mids to move back to the family home. He’d avoided serious long-term relationships, not wishing to let himself go all in with someone who couldn’t accept his commitment to his brother. But then there was Lynne, a one-time friend and colleague. He’d been surprised to learn she’d been harbouring feelings for him for a while and even more surprised that he had feelings for her too. In addition, there were old friends and colleagues, all of whom he was in some way bound to. He couldn’t imagine not having those attachments in his life.

‘Don’t you miss being connected to someone?’ he asked.

‘You miss going to the moon?’

Penn understood the meaning of the question. You couldn’t miss what you’d never had.

Penn had a hundred more questions. He wanted to know about Stig’s life. His long-term hopes, his story. He wanted to be able to help.

‘I ain’t for saving, fella,’ Stig said as if he could read Penn’s mind.

The throng of shoppers had slowed down, and his mug hadn’t clattered in minutes.

‘Fella, no offence, but I’m gonna do one and try my chances elsewhere.’

Penn felt bad for affecting trade. He reached past the small change in his pocket and took out his wallet. He popped a fiver into the tin before getting to his feet.

Stig regarded him for a few seconds. ‘Thanks, fella, and lucky for you my ears are bigger than my mouth. Might be nothing but WhatsApp mentioned something about some new guy handing out blankets in Dudley yesterday.’

‘And where might I find WhatsApp now?’

‘Heading to the Subway in Dudley. It’s Sunday. Bins will be full.’

Penn thanked him and went on his way.

EIGHTEEN

11.45 A.M.

‘Run that by me again,’ Mitch said, looking in the envelope for the second time.

Kim said nothing, knowing he was going to summarise for her. It had sounded ridiculous enough the first time when it came out of her own mouth. It was going to sound even worse coming from him.

‘You’ve called me out on a Sunday for an envelope of nails. There’s no body, there’s no crime scene, I mean there’s not even a limb for God’s sake.’

Yes, it sounded as bad as she’d thought.

‘They’re bloody,’ she said as though he hadn’t already noticed. She forgave Mitch his irritation up to a point. People were entitled to their weekend.

‘And what do you expect me to do about it on a Sunday?’

Kim wondered how many more times he’d remind her of the day of the week as though she didn’t already know it.

She tipped her head, a question forming behind her lips.

‘Not a chance,’ he said, knowing her well enough to guess what was coming. ‘I’m not calling out any other team members. Unlike you, I’ll take one for the team and respond to ridiculous call-outs, but I’m not involving anyone else,’ he said, looking pointedly at Bryant.

‘I’m fine, mate,’ Bryant reassured him.

She appreciated her colleague’s loyalty, but she wasn’t done yet. ‘Mitch, there might be something…’

‘Inspector, with all due respect, you have bloody nails found in a lockbox within a nature reserve. What exactly are you hoping I’ll find?’

‘Something,’ she offered unhelpfully.

He sighed heavily. ‘Sorry, but while you may have committed to wasting your time with this tomfoolery, that’s no excuse to involve us all in a wild goose chase that⁠—’

‘We all hope doesn’t end in the discovery of a body,’ Kim snapped. ‘And we wouldn’t be wasting our time unless we thought it was credible.’

She was done apologising for making what she felt were the right calls.

He sobered at her words and then sighed again.

‘Let me pop over to the morgue and have a closer look, but I am not missing my carvery lunch later on.’

Kim held up her hands to signify she could expect no more.

‘Just wait until Keats hears about this,’ he said before heading back towards his vehicle.

It was too much to hope that the techie would keep this to himself.

‘Oh, you’ve got it coming,’ Bryant said, trying to hide his smirk.

‘Thanks for the astute observation, genius,’ she said, taking a look around the car park.

The vehicles of volunteers were being replaced with those of pub patrons.

She headed to the table where Fred appeared to be surveying the lack of overflowing bin bags. The discovery of the box had prompted more gossiping than litter-picking amongst the volunteers.

‘Sorry about that, Fred,’ Kim said as the man removed his pre-printed name label.

He shrugged as he collected other sheets of blank labels together.

All four sheets were full of labels except for the top one. The label at the bottom right was missing.

Kim frowned. Fred didn’t look like the type of man to bring an incomplete sheet.

‘Stragglers,’ he explained, following her gaze. ‘I ask everyone to confirm, but some folks just turn up on the day to help if they’ve got nothing better to do.’

‘And someone did that?’ Kim asked as a feeling began to build in her stomach.

‘Just the one by the looks of it.’

‘Did you give out the sticker?’

He shook his head. ‘I was with you.’

‘Would anyone else have given it out?’

‘I have no idea,’ he said, waving at the car park. ‘Some of them are gone now. Buggered off when they realised there was no free tea and biscuits.’

‘But you know everyone who attended?’

‘Of course.’

‘I need you to ask them all if they gave someone a label.’

Fred scratched his head. ‘Why?’

‘I just need a description of the person if they did, okay?’

‘Leave it with me,’ he said as his chest visibly puffed up.

Kim handed him her card before heading back to the car.

‘Lot of fuss over a label, guv,’ Bryant observed.

It was. But they were playing someone’s game. They were being toyed with.

What better way to observe the fruits of your labour than by making yourself a part of the search?

NINETEEN

11.55 A.M.

I check my watch as they speed away from the car park and look around to make sure that no one is watching me. Everyone is too busy standing in groups discussing the events of the morning. No doubt they will recount the story to anyone who will listen throughout the day; at Sunday lunch, teatime, a quick call to a relative to tell it again before bed. I am the creator of it all, and yet no one has noticed me in the shadow of an oak tree behind a low branch that’s already shedding leaves onto cars.

I shake my head. Irresponsible. Those branches should have been trimmed back years ago.

I check my watch again and tut out loud. They are late leaving. I hide my dismay. My instructions were clear. Assemble a team. I shouldn’t have had to state that it needed to be a good team. There will be no pleasure in it if they can’t keep up. I need worthy opponents or else the game is worthless. I’ll find out if they measure up. If not, I will demand a new team, and I will get it.

People are finally getting into their cars and leaving, and I am still invisible. Not one person has looked my way. Not surprising. It’s been the story of my life.

I fight down my rage and focus on the positives: the anticipation, the pleasure I will get when we reach the end of the game and my name is linked to the police chasing their own tails. Those kids who didn’t invite me on their treasure hunts will recognise my name and know that I won. I made them look stupid, I made the police look stupid and I made the press look stupid.

What will Frost’s first article say? I wonder. Will it delight in my devilishness? Will it capture the skill and intelligence of my efforts? Will it praise me? Will it vilify me? I don’t know, but I’m excited. This time I’ll make the papers for sure, and however invisible I am right now, in thirty-six hours’ time, none of them will ever forget my name.

TWENTY

11.58 A.M.

‘So, is the article written?’ Stacey asked, unable to help herself. Although she was trying to remain uninterested, her peripheral vision had clocked the reporter alternating between tapping on her laptop furiously and staring off into space.

‘Yeah, it’s done.’

The reporter had no permission to post the story, and she had two minutes to make the call. Stacey couldn’t help but wonder what the consequences of going against her boss would be.

Frost visibly jumped when her phone beeped a message.

‘It’s him,’ Frost said.

‘Your boss?’ Stacey asked.

Frost shook her head. ‘Our guy. He’s sent me a one-minute countdown.’

Although Stacey knew she should be focussing on the clue, the decision Frost had to make was intriguing her.

The woman had a backbone – they all knew that. And she wouldn’t have brought the case to them if she wasn’t convinced this was no innocent game. But was she willing to risk the wrath of her boss to do the right thing?

‘Thirty seconds,’ Frost said, not expecting an answer.

Stacey offered nothing and just waited.

They all knew that the Jester had promised that people would get hurt if his instructions weren’t followed.

Indecision was written all over Frost’s face.

Stacey couldn’t help the question coming out of her mouth.

‘What exactly do you think your boss will do?’

Frost pressed the Publish button.

‘I guess we’re about to find out.’

TWENTY-ONE

NOON

THERE’S A JESTER IN TOWN

By Tracy Frost

Instead of writing the news, today I am the news. And I’m going to explain why.

This morning started like any other lazy Sunday morning. I was minding my own business, deciding what to do with my day.

That decision was taken out of my hands when a cryptic message about wanting to play a game popped into my inbox. Intrigued, I opened the email to find that it wasn’t the hoax I thought it was.

The email contained clear and concise instructions for the game from someone who calls himself the Jester.

My first instruction was to make contact with a high-ranking police officer who would share my opinion that this was a serious matter.

The response of the police was both swift and decisive. A team was assembled immediately to await the first clue.

Solving the clue led the team to the Saltwells Nature Reserve, where they found a box.

I’m not at liberty to reveal the contents of the box, but the Jester is serious about his game, and there are another thirty-one hours to go.

What is his motive?

What does he want?

What is his endgame?

This is not a hoax.

TWENTY-TWO

12.10 P.M.

Penn found WhatsApp sitting with his back against the Subway bin. Wrappers and boxes were strewn around him.

Penn found himself immediately thinking about food temperature, bacteria, insects. Things he had the luxury of considering before every meal.

‘Hey, WhatsApp,’ he said.

When the man raised his head, Penn guessed him to be late fifties, but he’d long since learned that appearances meant nothing amongst the homeless. WhatsApp’s hair was grey with just a few strands of brown to indicate what the colour had once been. His clothes were a mismatch of patterns and textures. The tartan jeans were covered with stains. He wore two jumpers and a pair of shoes that looked too big for him. His face had a ruddy complexion, and his eyes took a good few seconds to focus.

‘Whoos ashking?’ he slurred.

Penn introduced himself but wasn’t sure the guy had even heard.

Great, smashed out of his face by lunchtime on a Sunday.

‘Been talking to your mate, Stig.’

‘Who?’

Oh, this was not boding well for getting information, Penn thought.

‘He said you might know of someone new coming around.’

‘Nah, they ain’t round,’ he said and then laughed at his own joke.

Penn shook his head and wondered if he was wasting his time. Unfortunately, he had nothing else to go on.

Stacey had called and told him about the grubby, bloodied fingernails, which led him to believe he was on the right track.

‘Someone you’ve not seen before, offering shelter and blankets?’

‘Shankets,’ he said and laughed again.

‘Mate, I need you to focus,’ Penn said, trying to remain calm amongst this party for one.

‘Yeah, yeah, they come and go,’ WhatsApp said eventually, waving his hands around as though swatting flies. ‘Not many got the stomach for it unless it’s the Sally Army. They’re sound.’

‘But there was someone new?’ Penn pushed. ‘Last night?’

‘Yeah, a guy thirty, forty, fifty asked if I wanted to come see his puppies.’

‘He actually asked you that?’ Penn queried.

‘Don’t be daft. He tried to tempt me to his van for a new blanket.’

‘You didn’t go?’

‘No chance. I had a double doorway to meself. If I’d have left it for two minutes, it would’ve been gone. The other one offered me a hot meal.’

‘Other one?’ Penn asked.

‘Yeah, a lady, promised me fish and chips, but I had an appointment at the office,’ he said, patting his pocket.

Yesterday had been Saturday. Lots of shoppers out, and WhatsApp had obviously made enough money for his drink of choice to be consumed in peace in his double doorway.

Penn considered asking for a description but given that he’d just been given a three-decade age range that covered both sexes, he didn’t hold out much hope for a photofit.

He decided to change direction. ‘Anyone you know likely to have accepted the offer?’

‘Hiccup.’

‘Excuse you.’

WhatsApp fell sideways he was laughing so hard.

Penn waited.

‘Not me, mate,’ WhatsApp said with tears rolling over his cheeks. ‘That’s his name. Hiccup. When he gets ’em, he gets ’em good. He’ll go off with anyone for a tube of Smarties.’

‘You seen him today?’

WhatsApp belched loudly before shaking his head.

‘Cheers, mate,’ Penn said, heading back to the car. It wasn’t a lot, but at least it was a place to start.

TWENTY-THREE

12.15 P.M.

Kim placed a selection of pastries and drinks on the edge of Penn’s desk. ‘Not for you, Frost,’ she said, nodding towards her office, the glass-fronted room her team called the Bowl. ‘I need a word.’

The reporter looked to the others as though waiting for someone to save her before she moved.

‘You do know I’m not a member of your team?’ she huffed as she headed for the Bowl.

‘And you know that’s never stopped me bollocking you in the past,’ Kim retorted, closing the door behind her.

Frost stood in the middle of the room with her arms folded. ‘What?’

Kim took a seat behind her desk. ‘So, what’s the deal with you and Ryan Douglas?’ she asked.

‘I told you. He’s just an ex-boyfriend.’

Kim paused. The man had been a few years older; intelligent, good-looking and ambitious. What had gone wrong?

‘So why did you leave him?’ Kim probed.

‘Who says I did?’ Frost challenged her, and Kim wondered if during their entire history, they’d ever had a conversation that wasn’t combative.

‘He did,’ Kim answered.

Frost coloured and shrugged.

‘What did he do?’

‘Am I under arrest?’

‘If being annoying was a crime, yes, but no, you’re not.’

Frost turned to leave.

‘Did he get physical?’ Kim asked. It was the suspicion that had been on her mind all morning.

Frost didn’t turn, and she didn’t answer.

‘How physical?’ she pushed.

‘Not answering, Stone.’

‘Okay, it’s your business, but this is my investigation. We’re being played by a man who is both controlling and violent, so based on your experience, should I discount Ryan Douglas or keep him on ice?’

Frost considered long and hard before turning. ‘Keep him on ice.’

Kim nodded towards the door, indicating she was free to leave. ‘And you can take a pastry now.’

Kim took a moment to reflect on everything Frost had just told her by not telling her a damn thing.

Clearly Ryan Douglas had been in a position of power in their relationship, and he’d used it to get physical. Exactly what he’d done she guessed she would never know, but she couldn’t help wondering what would happen if the two of them were to meet now. Frost wasn’t a woman she could imagine being intimidated by anyone.

She took a breath and headed back into the squad room.

‘Any progress?’ she asked, nodding towards Penn’s empty chair.

‘Just called in a possible missing guy,’ Stacey said. ‘He’s asking around for more details.’

It was a shot in the dark, but they had to give it a try. If anyone could find out, it would be Penn.

Kim turned back to Frost. ‘You still got a job?’

‘Barely, but only cos my boss can’t be arsed to start the disciplinary procedure on a Sunday.’

‘What about the next article?’ Kim asked. Their guy would expect another update to be posted in just under six hours’ time.

Frost shrugged. ‘I’ll worry about that when I get to it.’

Right now, Frost’s ongoing employment was not her greatest concern.

She turned to her team. ‘Okay, refresh. Mitch has the nails and is taking a look before resuming his weekend.’

‘Ha, his missus won’t like that,’ Stacey offered.

Kim waited.

‘Saw them once at the Dudley Arms carvery. As soon as he introduced me as a work colleague, her face changed. Not sure he’s even allowed to think about work on a Sunday. She likes to stay at the pub after eating if you know what I mean,’ Stacey said, bringing her hand to her mouth in a drinking motion.

‘Okay, thanks for that, Stace,’ Kim said.

‘Sorry, just in case you were wondering why he’s not quite as helpful as normal.’

‘Splendid. Right, that missing label at the Saltwells makes me think our guy was at the nature reserve to watch. No one would have questioned seeing a random volunteer as long as he had one of those stickers. I think our man infiltrated the litter-pick.’

Stacey cast a glance at Bryant and they both burst out laughing. Even Frost chuckled.

‘Sorry, boss,’ Stacey said, ‘but it’s not two words I’d normally put together.’

Kim rolled her eyes. ‘I think he’s doing this for entertainment, for kicks. He’s playing with us, but that makes him no less dangerous. We know from the Dictaphone that he’s not afraid to cause pain, and if he was there this morning, he’s not afraid to take risks.’

‘You’re assuming it’s a man?’ Frost asked.

‘We never assume, but it’s the natural pronoun for us to use. And you’re still not allowed to speak.’

‘He could also have been there to make sure we were taking him seriously,’ Bryant offered as Frost returned to her computer.

‘True,’ Kim said before turning to Stace. ‘Any luck on the next clue?’

‘Still working on it. I mean, what the hell does “cubed chieftain slithers around Bonzo” mean?’

‘Okay, keep at it. Any names that jump out from the Seekers website?’ Kim asked, taking a bite from one of the pastries.

‘I’m not done on the site yet, and there are plenty other sites to check, but if we’re assuming whoever’s doing this is an experienced geocacher, I’ve got a couple of interesting names. First one is Eric Lane, forty-eight years of age, married, two kids and a job as a sales demonstrator of kitchen appliances.’

For some reason, that image went hand in hand with the hobby they were looking at.

‘Go on,’ Kim urged, finishing her pastry.

‘He’s a purist. Absolutely passionate about sticking to the rules of the game. Very vocal in the chat rooms about doing it all correctly, even jumps on the others for bad grammar.’

‘Fun guy,’ Kim observed.

‘The other one is Jared Truss. He’s a twenty-five-year-old YouTuber with a few thousand followers who films himself finding and exploring caches. He does it mainly in the dark and combines it with spooky ghost stories. He sneaks into abandoned buildings and likes to scare his audience.’

‘Sounds marginally more fun. Why the interest in these two?’

‘Cos they’re the top guys. Every trail that gets set is marked by the people that complete it. The scores for these two are the highest. They’re constantly jostling for the top spot and always trying to outdo each other with more elaborate and intricate puzzles.’

‘What lengths would they go to, to be the best?’ Kim wondered. Surely murder was too high a price to pay just to be the top of the leader board.

‘They hate each other passionately,’ Stacey added.

‘How passionately?’ Kim asked.

‘Started out with jabs at each other in the chat rooms. Eric started it as Jared’s style of play became more popular. To get him back, Jared solved Eric’s next trail in record time and posted all the locations and clues online within a couple of hours. Obviously ruined that puzzle. Eric held the record for the longest multi-box trail with twelve linked boxes. A week later, Jared posted a trail with thirteen boxes. Boxes on each of their trails have gone missing, breaking the chain of clues so the puzzle is worthless. No prizes for guessing who the likely saboteurs are.’

‘All very innocent stuff,’ Kim observed.

‘Yes and no,’ Stacey said, tipping her head.

Kim waited.

‘Neither of them is showing any signs of backing down. The animosity is growing, and they both seem to be getting nastier in their efforts to win.’

Kim considered Stacey’s point. Could they be dealing with a case of one-upmanship? Was one of them trying to irrevocably outdo the other one?

‘You got addresses?’

Stacey offered a wide smile. ‘Oh yeah.’

‘Text ’em to Bryant,’ Kim said, pushing herself off the edge of the desk.

Her phone rang as she reached for her jacket.

‘What ya got, Mitch?’ she asked as a greeting.

‘Not much, except to say that this guy has been brutally denailed.’

‘Pain level?’ Kim asked.

‘It hasn’t been a method of torture for centuries for no reason. I could tell you all about the nail bed and the epithelial tissue and the sterile matrix… but ultimately hostages and prisoners who have endured it have described the pain as unimaginable, so I think that gives us a good idea of what this poor soul went through.’

‘What are the chances of these nails coming from a homeless person?’ Kim wanted to be sure Penn wasn’t chasing his tail for nothing.

‘Very possible. The dirt isn’t from someone who has spent a couple of hours in the garden. This is ingrained and down deep in the nail bed. And that’s pretty much all I can tell you.’

‘Hang on, how about blood type, DNA profile, all that helpful stuff?’

‘You have no body, no crime scene, it’s Sunday afternoon. If you need any further help, be sure to call someone else.’

Kim growled at an empty line. Of course he wanted his day off. She could understand it.

Unfortunately for Mitch, that made no difference to her at all.

TWENTY-FOUR

1 P.M.

Stacey fought the urge to take the last pastry once the boss and Bryant had left.

A quick glance at Frost indicated she was considering the same thing.

They both laughed.

‘Split it?’ Stacey offered.

Frost smiled and produced a penknife from her pocket.

‘You know, as a police officer, I should warn you that carrying⁠—’

‘And as a single woman who spends a great deal of time alone, I’ll take my chances of getting caught.’

Stacey considered reminding her that she just had been caught, in a police station. But, on balance, what exactly was she going to do about it – arrest her?

Stacey gratefully accepted her half of the raisin-and-chocolate pastry and despatched it in two bites.

With the indecision now behind her, it was time to try and nail this clue.

Cubed chieftain slithers around Bonzo.

She repeated the words over and over in her mind while she made notes.

Cubed ice, cream, square, box, chieftain, nobility, count, peerage, Anglo-Saxons, earl, Scandinavians.

Slithers, move in sideways motion, usually silently, from the original untrustworthy individual.

Bonzo, a nickname for Ronald Reagan, Bonzo Dog Doo-Dah Band, Bedtime for Bonzo, dog actor.

Stacey sat back and looked at her notes. Great, she’d got a square chieftain from the Garden of Eden who liked watching Bedtime for Bonzo.

Stacey checked the clock. They’d had this clue for almost two hours, and she couldn’t make head nor tail of it, which scared her.

Everything about this game so far had been precise. Each clue must have been given with enough time to find the next, at least as far as the Jester was concerned.

Stacey could only wonder what would happen if she didn’t work it out in time.

TWENTY-FIVE

1.30 P.M.

If Kim had been forced to match a house to Eric Lane after what she’d been told, this was the one she’d choose.

The property was an attractive semi-detached house on a leafy street on the Bromsgrove border.

Kim counted no more than ten dwellings on either side of the tree-lined road. Every property had a small front driveway, but the one at which Bryant had stopped was immaculate.

The fencing that faced the road looked new or freshly painted. The paving slabs had been jet washed back to their former glory. Miniature trees had been pruned, and a hanging basket was overflowing with colourful blooms.

‘Petunias,’ Bryant offered. ‘Missus hates them.’

‘Good to know,’ she said, knocking the door. To her, flowers were the same as relationships. They needed love, care and attention, so she chose not to bother.

The door was answered by a lad who looked to be in his late teens. He wore baggy jeans, a hoody and somewhere behind the facial hair, his mouth appeared to be chewing. Earphones rested around his neck.

An assortment of aromas had followed him to the door. Of course, lunchtime.

‘I’m looking for Eric Lane,’ she said as they both held up their identifications.

His eyes widened. ‘No way the feds want my dad. What did he do, forget to wash his hands after taking a piss?’

Kim got the feeling that the kid would be impressed if his dad had stepped out of line.

‘May we speak with him?’

‘Sure, come on in. They’re gonna love this.’

Kim stepped into a hallway that bore a familiar smell. Erica, her foster mother, had often used a carpet deodoriser to vacuum up and clearly Mrs Lane did the same.

‘Come through,’ the teenager said with amusement in his voice.

She followed him into a long room which was both lounge and dining room. What she assumed to be the rest of the family were enjoying a Sunday roast.

The expression of all three diners was not amusement.

‘Derren, what is…?’

‘It’s the feds for you, Dad.’

Eric Lane was one of the tidiest men she’d ever laid eyes on. His black hair was cut short and without fuss. His white shirt was crisp without a crease in sight. His physique was lean but not scrawny.

His wife appeared the most displeased of the three. A whole morning of cooking was about to be ruined by unexpected visitors.

She looked to her husband as though waiting for him to ask them to leave.

Someone Kim assumed to be their other son sat at the table looking like a mini me of his father, even showing the same expression. He looked to be the older of the two boys, possibly early twenties.

‘Carry on, Helen, and keep mine warm,’ Eric Lane said, pushing back his chair. ‘Derren, finish your lunch.’

‘Nah, I’m good. Way more fun watching you lot implode cos someone disturbed your dinner.’

Whether relevant to the investigation or not, Kim always liked to understand the dynamics of a family she was questioning. In this one, there was a clear black sheep.

Eric Lane’s face darkened. ‘Derren, your mother has⁠—’

‘I’m done. Going upstairs now. See ya.’

Eric shook his head as Derren walked past them back to the front door.

Oh, so that was how it was going to be.

‘Teenagers, eh?’ Bryant offered as they all stepped outside the house.

‘The price you pay for a gifted child.’

‘Aren’t they all?’ Bryant said affably. Every parent thought their child supremely gifted in something at one time or another.

‘No, Officer, they’re not,’ Eric Lane said without warmth or humour. ‘Boyce is distinctively average, despite his best efforts. His younger brother doesn’t even have to try.’

His expression was a mixture of despair and pride, and Kim couldn’t help but wonder what Boyce would make of his father’s description.

Dynamics established. Normal traditional family. Older, less-gifted brother chooses to be more like dad for recognition and approval. Younger child couldn’t give a shit but gets approval anyway.

‘Derren’s a handful, eh?’ Kim asked.

‘Won’t bathe, won’t shave, won’t conform. Even his computer programming tutors can’t do anything with him. They’re moving too slowly. He could teach them a thing or two. But that’s not why you’re here,’ he finished, folding his arms.

‘We’d like to ask some questions about your activities on the Seekers website.’

He frowned. ‘Why?’

‘We understand you take the hobby very seriously.’

‘I do, but what does that matter? If something is worth doing, it’s worth doing well. I have the record for the most completed puzzles.’

‘You mean for solving them or setting them?’ Kim asked.

‘Both,’ he said proudly before his expression changed. ‘But what does that have to do with you?’

‘We hear you have competition for that top spot?’ Kim said, seeing a shadow behind the net curtain. One family member was curious to see or hear what was going on.

Eric’s face darkened, and for the first time, Kim got to see the seriousness with which he took the hobby.

‘If you’re talking about Jared Truss, he’s a nobody. He’s just a sensationalist who wants to grow his following on YouTube.’

‘Sets some good puzzles though,’ Kim baited him. ‘So you’re quite similar.’

‘We are nothing alike,’ he bit out, giving Kim what she wanted.

‘I’ve been a seeker since I was ten years old. I’ve grown up with this hobby. I’ve watched it grow in popularity. I enjoy pitting myself against the mind of someone else. I enjoy the challenge of seeking out the next clue. I enjoy the satisfaction of getting a clue right and then finding the rest. It’s a very simple and innocent thrill, as far as I’m aware,’ he said, tipping his head, expecting an explanation for why they were asking.

Not quite yet, Kim thought. ‘And Jared?’

Disgust curled his lips. ‘He’s not interested in the purity of the game. He invents ghosts and serial killers and crime scenes. He records himself following clues he’s already laid. It’s disgusting.’

‘Why disgusting? Surely it’s just another form of entertainment?’ she asked.

‘But it’s fake. He’s making a show, he’s acting, and people are falling for it.’

How many times had they witnessed a situation where someone younger had moved into a community with fresh ideas and upset the apple cart? Things changed; they moved on. Some things improved and some didn’t, but one thing was for sure. You couldn’t stop it happening.

‘And you can’t coexist on the same platform – serving different markets?’ Bryant asked.

‘Absolutely not. One of these days, Ryan will listen to me and ban him from the site. Someone will get hurt, and then he’ll wish he’d listened.’

‘Why would anyone get hurt?’ Kim asked, feeling that was a strange statement to make.

‘Because he’s reckless, encouraging people to search dark woods, abandoned and sometimes unstable buildings, cemeteries in the middle of the night, setting clues in dangerous places. But Ryan won’t listen. He’s enjoying the subscription increase from all the new joiners.’

‘Brought in by Jared’s antics?’ Kim needled and was rewarded by a tightening of the jaw. She shouldn’t have been surprised that this man had approached the owner of Seekers to get Jared removed. What else was he prepared to do – hurt someone and then blame Jared for it?

‘Inspector, what exactly do you want to ask me?’

‘I want to know how far you’ll go to prove you’re the best?’

‘I have no idea—’ He stopped speaking as her phone rang.

She stepped away. ‘Go ahead, Stace.’

‘Boss, I think I know where you need to go next.’

TWENTY-SIX

2 P.M.

‘Hey, Jack, you ever hear of a homeless guy called Hiccup?’ Penn asked on his way through the station.

After reaching a dead end out on the streets, he’d returned to ask some of his colleagues if they knew anyone of that name, and who better to ask than their irascible custody sergeant?

Jack didn’t even need to search his memory before nodding. Great, that could have saved him some time.

‘Not a bad one. Quiet and well behaved, mental health issues, depression, I think. Not surprising.’

‘Go on,’ Penn urged him. Right now, he was hopping from a wing to a prayer in the hope that he’d identified the right guy.

‘Hiccup is in his mid-seventies but pretty fit and robust. Hard to believe when you look at him now, but he was a stockbroker back in the eighties.’

Penn knew he shouldn’t be surprised. Every person living on the streets had a story.

‘His real name is Anthony Parsons. Intelligent guy, educated and living it large. Had a great house, wife, couple of kids. And then came the recession. Interest rates up to fourteen per cent. He lost his house and the wife and kids. He suffered a complete breakdown, and adult services were never able to get a handle on him.’

‘How likely is he to go off with a stranger offering hot food and a blanket?’

Jack nodded. ‘No-brainer for Hiccup.’

‘You know this much about all the homeless guys?’ Penn asked.

‘Nah, only the ones that take a piss right in front of officers to get themselves banged up for the night.’

‘How often does Hiccup do that?’ Penn asked.

‘Weekly, most often on a Saturday night if the shelters are full. Weird, no one ever wants to spend Saturday nights alone, even⁠—’

‘Was he here last night?’ Penn asked, holding his breath. If Hiccup had been in the cells last night, he was back to square one.

‘Hang on,’ Jack said, taking a quick look at the activity log.

With a look of surprise, he began to shake his head. ‘Nope. He must have found a warm bed somewhere else.’

Penn thanked him and headed up to the squad room. It was starting to look more and more likely that the Jester had Hiccup.

Penn’s only question now was what did the seeker intend to do with him next?

TWENTY-SEVEN

2.30 P.M.

‘I can tell you’re pissed off,’ Bryant said, pulling up at a zebra crossing.

‘Just when I think I’m getting somewhere, I’m pulled away to go find another bloody clue.’

‘You think there was more to get from Eric Lane?’ he asked.

‘I would have liked to needle him further to find out,’ she admitted. There was barely a chance to follow any leads they uncovered before tearing off after the next damn box.

‘We gotta play the game at the same time, guv, so run that clue by me again,’ Bryant said as they neared their next location.

‘“Cubed chieftain slithers around Bonzo,”’ Kim answered. ‘And we have until three o’clock to find it.’

‘Oh yeah, so much clearer now. Can’t believe we didn’t get it the first time,’ he said, rolling his eyes. ‘And how the hell did Stacey link that to this place?’

‘Cubed is third, chieftain is another word for earl. Dudley Zoo was started by the third Earl of Dudley in the thirties. They had a gorilla named Bonzo until the mid-nineties.’

‘Whatever we pay Stacey, it ain’t enough,’ Bryant said, pulling into the crowded car park.

Mid-afternoon on a dry Sunday, the place would be heaving.

They headed for the turnstiles and showed their badges to a bored-looking teenager checking something on his phone. The peak time of entry would have happened hours ago, meaning thousands of people had already likely contaminated any box.

‘Where are we headed?’ Bryant asked.

‘Think about the clue,’ she said, walking towards the info board.

‘Ah, slithers, reptile house.’

‘Stands a chance,’ she said, locating attraction thirty-four on the map.

It came back to her that there was no way of getting anywhere around the zoo without climbing hills or negotiating steps.

She headed left, passing the fun fair and entrance to the chairlift. Next was a picnic area full of families sitting on both the benches and the grass. At least one child was screaming blue murder at the choice of sandwiches.

‘Long hill around or steep steps past the meerkats?’ she asked.

‘Steps,’ Bryant answered. ‘I love meerkats.’

She offered him a withering glance as she mounted the steps and took a left.

‘I’ll look inside, and you do out here,’ she said, marching into the reptile house.

The dark space was filled with people looking at the array of snakes, lizards and bigger, more frightening creatures. She was more interested in searching every inch of the floor, the corners that were being obscured by legs and feet.

She spotted something up ahead on the floor next to the enclosure of some kind of venomous creature. Short of physically pushing kids out of the way she had no choice but to join the throng of spectators and wait until she got to it.

Eventually, her foot made contact with the object and she bent down.

It was a Barbie lunch box, and she could tell by the weight it wasn’t empty.

She moved out of the stream of people to open it. Just because it wasn’t the same as the first one didn’t mean it wasn’t what she was after. Who knew how many different ways he was trying to mess with them? And who knew what would be inside this time?

She lifted the pink fasteners, silently readying herself for the contents.

She held her breath.

A tap on the shoulder startled her.

She turned.

A woman in a grey sweatshirt was looking from her to the open lunch box with her hand outstretched.

A little girl with a tearstained face visibly brightened on seeing the lunch box. The woman thrust her hand forward further.

‘Sorry,’ Kim said, handing back the box with its half-eaten sandwich and an apple.

The woman offered her a filthy look before grabbing her child with her free hand and exiting the building.

Kim had the urge to run after her and explain that she was a police officer and didn’t need to nick a kid’s lunch. But she was spared any such explanation when the faint call of the word ‘guv’ reached her above the excited chatter.

She traversed the path to the exit.

‘I think I’ve found it,’ Bryant said, heading back around the side of the building.

He pointed to a bunch of nettles within which something metallic winked back at them.

‘Good spot,’ she acknowledged.

‘I threw bricks at it and it tinged.’

She didn’t blame him for not reaching in. It had obviously been placed on the ground and then pushed into the nettles.

Kim was considering jumping into the stingers and kicking it out when a teenage boy wearing a zoo uniform approached pushing a cleaning trolley.

‘Yer okay?’ he asked, unsure, as though he knew they weren’t supposed to be back here but wasn’t really sure what to do about it.

‘I am now. Pass me that broom,’ she said, holding out her hand.

He did so without question after Bryant held up his badge.

Kim stood as close to the nettles as she could and used the end of the broom to bring the box forward.

As before, it was a petty cash tin with no key in the lock.

Kim handed back the broom and indicated for the staff member to leave.

Once out of sight, she carefully opened the lid.

‘Jesus,’ she said, seeing it contained another Dictaphone, an index card and another white stationery-set envelope. This time the blood of whatever was inside had seeped into the paper.

She lifted the flap tentatively.

‘Oh shit,’ she said upon seeing the teeth that appeared to have been crudely removed.

She counted five teeth, a mixture of molars and incisors. She cringed at the thought of the pain that must have been endured.

She closed the envelope and turned her attention to the Dictaphone.

‘Play it,’ Kim said, knowing exactly what they were going to hear but having no choice about doing it.

Bryant pressed the button, and the tape began.

They both strained to hear any background noise, but there was nothing until a small sharp sound broke the silence. They frowned at each other. Two seconds and the noise came again. Two seconds, noise, two seconds, noise.

‘Some kind of clicking?’ Bryant asked.

Kim shushed him, but she was also wondering if it was some kind of tool being readied for the torture.

The noise stopped when the screaming began.

The sound hit Kim straight in the stomach. The screams were agonising, fearful, desperate cries filled with terror.

The torture lasted for a good seven minutes before the tape ended.

‘Guv, I’m not gonna lie. I’d really like to get my hands on this bastard.’

Kim agreed wholeheartedly.

When they attended a crime scene, however horrific, the pain had gone. Whatever had been done to their victim was over, and there was nothing they could have done to prevent it. In this case, it appeared to be ongoing, and the only hope they had of stopping it was to do what this sicko wanted.

Bryant pressed Play on the tape again.

‘Don’t…’

‘Just the first bit,’ he said, listening to the rhythmic sound before the screams.

He cut it off before the screaming started, rewound it and started again.

‘Guv, I’m about to say something really stupid.’

‘That doesn’t normally stop you.’

‘It sounds to me like someone with the hiccups.’

‘Bryant…’

‘I know, but I’m just saying.’

The man was entitled to his opinion, but as the observation made absolutely no sense, she was going to ignore it. Everything this sicko did had some kind of meaning, and she was sure that wasn’t it.

Her thoughts returned to her recent meeting with Eric Lane. On the face of it, he appeared solid, stable, respectable, maybe even a little staid, but she knew from experience that looks could be deceiving. Was he capable of inflicting this level of torture on someone? She really would have liked more time to try and find out, but again she was in a new race against the clock.

‘What’s the next clue?’ she asked, taking out her phone.

‘“This might be a folly. Ramble high b4 you see the blackened hill. Find my next by 9 p.m. or…”’

‘Call the clue in to Stace while I contact Mitch.’

He stepped away with the card while she scrolled to the contact number for the forensic technician.

The call rang out and eventually went to voicemail.

No, she did not want to leave a message thank you very much. She wanted to talk to the man and arrange to meet.

The second time of calling she was sent straight to voicemail.

Oh, so that’s how he wanted to play it, was it? Kim thought.

‘All done?’ she asked as Bryant ended his call to Stacey.

He nodded.

‘Great, now where did Stacey say Mitch liked to go for lunch?’

TWENTY-EIGHT

3 P.M.

Stacey read the words she’d written down a couple of times before saying them out loud. She was happy to work on the next clue. She’d been searching any geocaching sites she could find in the hope of spotting some reference to the Jester, and she was still coming up blank. Penn had been kind enough to nip out and get some snacks before the supermarket closed.

‘“This might be folly. Ramble high b4 you see the blackened hill.”’

‘Say what now?’ Penn asked.

‘That’s our next clue, along with some crudely extracted teeth and another Dictaphone tape recording the torture.’

Stacey paused as she looked at Frost. ‘You okay?’ she asked. The woman appeared to have lost all colour.

‘Don’t,’ she said, waving her hand. ‘Total phobia of dentists. I can only go for a check-up under sedation.’

‘Oh, okay,’ Stacey said, fearing the reporter was going to head for the nearest bathroom to vomit if she said anything else. She tucked the info away, sure that the boss could use that little nugget for occasions when she really wanted to get the woman out of her face.

Stacey passed the words she’d written down over to Penn. ‘You wanna look at that while I contact the zoo about possible CCTV?’

‘Yeah, nothing more I can do on our victim anyway.’

‘Oh yeah, and Bryant seems to think he could hear someone on the tape with the hiccups. Boss told him he was⁠—’

‘Are you sure?’ Penn asked, cutting her off.

She shrugged. ‘That’s what he said. Why?’

‘That’s the nickname of the guy I’ve been chasing after all morning.’

‘But what more can you do?’ Stacey asked, seeing the tension creep into his face. ‘Maybe we know that’s who our sicko has, but getting anything about where he was taken from is going to be impossible. Your key sources aren’t very reliable.’

‘I know, but who the hell does this bastard think he is?’ Penn raged. ‘How does he think he can just take a person from the streets and do whatever he wants with them?’

‘Disposable,’ Frost offered. ‘He doesn’t see the man’s life as important or valuable, so it’s no great loss.’

‘But doesn’t that tell us something?’ Stacey asked, thinking of all the conversations she’d had with her buddy, Alison, the behaviourist.

Penn and Frost waited.

‘It might indicate he has a consideration for the bigger picture, that he doesn’t want to affect too many lives. I’m just rambling here, but I’m thinking that in his mind, he’s resolved that if he’s going to take a life, it’ll be one that hurts as few people possible. Also, he’s put the onus on us to find Hiccup before it’s too late. If anything happens to the man, it’ll be our fault not his.’

‘But what about the torture?’ Penn asked.

‘Hey, I’m not saying our sicko is a choirboy. I’m saying that I don’t think that killing is the primary motivation here. It’s about the game. He’s had to make the stakes high enough to engage us, and this is the only way he can do that.’ She paused. ‘I’d even say this man has never taken a life before.’

Penn shook his head. ‘I’m not convinced. Anyone who can pull out a defenceless man’s nails and teeth is capable of much more.’

Stacey opened her mouth to argue, but Penn reached for his headphones, indicating he’d left the conversation.

She sighed as she turned back to her screen.

Penn had better hope that she was right because if she was, at least Hiccup had a chance.

TWENTY-NINE

3.30 P.M.

The Dudley Arms was set back on the Wolverhampton Road in Himley and was known as one of the best places to get a decent Sunday lunch in the Black Country.

It felt as though the customers agreed with that fact, Kim thought as she entered the pub, stepping right into a satisfied atmosphere.

The busy lunch period was over, and the food trays were being removed. The smell of meat and vegetables still lingered and gave her a swift kick to a gut that had consumed no more than an unfulfilling pastry.

Once she was done here, she’d call Luigi’s on the edge of Halesowen and have him deliver a selection of food. She was willing to bet the rest of her team hadn’t eaten either.

She wove her way through the mid-afternoon air of contentment until she found what she was looking for.

‘Hey, Mitch, fancy seeing you here,’ she said, tapping him on the shoulder.

The look of surprise on his face was only matched by the rage on the face of his wife, who had very quickly clocked who she was.

‘Pleased to meet you,’ Kim said, pleasantly, in an attempt to disarm her.

It did not work. The woman looked to her husband to take swift and decisive action.

‘Inspector, you have got to be⁠—’

‘There’s been a development,’ Kim said, dragging a stool from the next table, which had just emptied. ‘I tried to call, but the reception here must be terrible.’

‘No, I intentionally cut you off.’

‘No matter.’ She shrugged. ‘I’m here now.’

‘I can’t even imagine how you found me here, but you’re wasting your time, Inspector. I’ll take a look at whatever you have tomorrow. Now please leave us to enjoy the rest of our weekend.’

His wife’s glare signalled that she would have liked much stronger action than that.

‘We have teeth,’ Kim said, taking the envelope from her jacket pocket in its plastic evidence bag. ‘Wanna see?’ she asked, thrusting the blood-soaked envelope towards his wife.

Her nose wrinkled in distaste before she fixed her husband with another hard stare.

Kim handed the bag to Mitch, who, despite his thunderous expression, took a look inside the envelope.

He cringed as though an image had formed of the actions needed to get those teeth.

‘We have the recording,’ Kim said. ‘It was horrific.’

Mitch shook his head. ‘I’m just not sure what you want from me.’

‘Firstly, I want to know if they’re from the same person as the nails. Then I want to know what was used to extract them, and thirdly whether there are any clues on the box, the envelope or tape that might help us find this bastard before we start getting body parts the victim can’t live without.’

She offered a quick smile to his wife before turning back to Mitch. ‘Not much really. You could be home by teatime.’

‘Mitch, it’s the weekend,’ the woman whined.

‘I know, sweetie, but it’s⁠—’

‘You do this, Mitch, and you needn’t bother coming home.’

Kim could see the man was stuck between a rock and a hard place. Time to give the guy a helping hand and smooth these troubled waters.

She turned to his wife. ‘We don’t know each other, Mrs Mitch, but here’s what’s happening. A desperate, vulnerable person has been lifted from the streets on the promise of a warm meal.’ She paused to look around the pub. ‘We have been engaged in a race against time to try and save this man’s life. He appears to be suffering in real time having now had fingernails and teeth forcibly and crudely removed. Your husband has both the skills and technology to help us find this poor soul and end his suffering, and if you can’t understand that, lady, shame on you.’

THIRTY

3.50 P.M.

‘So, Mitch is on his way to the lab with the teeth,’ Stacey said after ending the call from the boss. ‘And I’m thinking the boss is currently apologising to Bryant over the whole Hiccup thing.’

‘Most likely not,’ Frost muttered under her breath without even taking her eyes from the computer.

Clearly the woman was always listening, and although she was supposed to be scouring all her articles to find out why their sicko had chosen her as the messenger, for all Stacey knew, the reporter was making notes on every conversation she overheard to use at some later date.

It reminded Stacey of those people who kept wild exotic animals as pets. It was never a good idea to trust them completely.

Thinking of animals, she checked her inbox. It was twenty minutes since she’d spoken to the security guy at Dudley Zoo, and that had been quite the trial.

After explaining that she had no interest in their webcams of the Sumatran tigers or the lemurs in their woodland home, he had finally understood that she wanted to access any CCTV they had around the reptile house.

He had explained that they had a static on the entrance and another static at the fork in the road that led to the building. She’d asked for both sets of footage from opening time up to 2.30 p.m. when the boss had been in the area. The fact that the box had been dry and there’d been a heavy shower around ten told her the box had been planted that day. Could Ryan Douglas have made it over from Telford in time after speaking to the boss? Could Eric Lane have planted it and been back home in time for their visit at lunchtime? Both were definitely doable, but she’d keep an open mind while viewing the footage.

As if wishing made it so, her inbox sounded the receipt of a media file with a short note of

More to follow.

She clicked it open to find she’d been sent the footage from the fork in the road. As requested, the time frame stretched from 10 a.m. to 2.30 p.m.

Stacey blew out air as she realised the task ahead of her, and most likely it would garner no result. Anyone carrying a backpack could have the box concealed and she’d never spot it. And it was going to take her four and a half hours in real time to watch the whole thing so she didn’t miss any possibility of catching their guy in the act.

Within seconds of the footage starting, the customers began to pass by the camera. Families paused, deciding which direction to take. Kids pulled on hands, jackets, anything within reach to guide the adults the way they wanted to go, and every parent seemed to do exactly as they were being told. Except one. A woman on her own with a pushchair and a child of about seven years of age stopped right in front of the camera to give the boy a good telling-off for trying to pull her left when she was determined to go right.

Stacey smiled as they went out of view and a family with more kids than she could count passed by.

She examined the belongings of everyone who came into the frame but paid more attention to men who were alone. There weren’t many of those, and very few were carrying anything big enough to hold the tin. As the initial surge thinned, she sped up the footage and stopped it only when a person of interest or a family with bags crossed the lens.

She couldn’t help but marvel at the number of parents that simply followed the lead of their children. When she’d been a child, she’d been attached to her mother’s hand and went wherever she was told.

The clock on the footage was now heading towards 1 p.m. and Stacey had the feeling she’d missed it. Their sicko couldn’t have known how long it would take them to solve the previous clue, so he had to have made sure the box was there in plenty of time.

She went back to the beginning of the footage. There had to be something to give her a place to start.

She watched the same people pass by the camera again, but this time she scoured their facial expressions, their ease of movement, their posture, their demeanour.

The woman with the pushchair and child came into view, and she slowed the footage down. The boy was already pointing to the left when they came into shot, and his mother was shaking her head. The boy was growing more and more truculent, but her expression was determined.

Why was she so keen to head towards the reptile house when her son clearly wanted to go the other way?

The woman stepped away from the pushchair to scold the child, and Stacey zoomed in on the shelf that ran under the seat.

There was a bag, a folded blanket and beneath it what looked like a shiny metal box.

THIRTY-ONE

4.10 P.M.

‘You just can’t say it, can you?’ Bryant asked as they neared the address of Jared Truss. ‘I’ve given you ample time, but the words are just not coming.’

‘What exactly would you like me to say?’

‘I’d like to hear “Bryant, I sincerely apologise for dismissing your observation about the noise on the tape, and I shall endeavour to treat your contributions with more respect in the future”.’

‘Yeah, you’re right,’ she said.

‘I am?’

‘Those words are never coming out of my mouth.’

Bryant shook his head in despair as he parked the car in front of a bungalow on the New Pool estate in Cradley Heath. The home seemed at odds with a twenty-five-year-old YouTuber.

They were about to speak with Eric Lane’s nemesis. The man’s biggest rival for title of Top Banana on the Seekers site. She was interested to see if he felt as strongly about Eric Lane as Eric did about Jared. Only then would she be able to assess if this particular battle of wills had got out of hand.

The door was opened by a woman who appeared to be in her mid-seventies.

‘Are we in the right place for Jared Truss?’

A smile lit her face instantly. ‘Yes, yes, Jared lives here,’ she said before a shadow fell over her expression. Kim guessed they didn’t look like her grandson’s normal visitors.

The woman turned to call him, but he had already appeared in the hallway.

‘Everything okay, Mrs H?’ he asked, hovering protectively behind her.

She turned towards him. ‘I think they’re police officers,’ she said in the loudest whisper Kim had ever heard.

‘Then they must be here for you not me, Mrs H,’ he teased.

She chuckled before stepping out of the way. ‘Call me if you need me,’ she said with a wink.

‘I surely will,’ he said before turning his attention back to Kim and Bryant.

‘Grandma?’ she asked.

‘Landlady,’ he answered, not inviting them inside.

‘Is there somewhere we can talk?’

He hesitated before nodding for them to come in.

They followed him along a pleasantly decorated hallway to a room at the end. A shadow behind one of the glass doors showed that Mrs H was close by.

Stepping into his room was like entering another house entirely. The first thing she deduced was that this was probably the master bedroom and the space had been used to its capacity. A three-quarter bed was given a lower priority than the desk that dominated two walls. The space was awash with technology: computer screens, cameras, video cameras, lighting, microphone. It was like Currys had vomited all over his desk. One wall behind the desk displayed photo montages, and a neon sign to the far left spelled his name. She guessed it was the backdrop for when he did live videos.

Kim was surprised to see the floor and other surfaces free of clutter.

Jared took a seat in the gaming-style chair, forcing her and Bryant to sit on the bed.

‘So, you’re not related to Mrs H?’ Kim asked, taking a minute to appraise him.

With his black hair stylishly cut and his blue eyes, he was what she considered to be pretty-boy handsome. God had seen fit to arrange his features in a way that would benefit him all his life. He was dressed in jeans and a tee shirt and presented as a totally normal kid in his mid-twenties.

‘We’re not related, but we take care of each other.’

‘How so?’ Bryant asked.

‘Mrs H feels safer with me in the house, and I like her cooking better than my own.’

‘How’d you meet?’ Kim asked, intrigued. Right now she wasn’t sure which one of them was getting the better deal.

‘The old-fashioned way,’ he answered.

‘Card in the newsagent’s window?’ Bryant asked.

Jared frowned as though he had no clue what Bryant was talking about. ‘Err… Craigslist.’

She was sure Bryant was wondering when Craigslist had become the old-fashioned way.

‘We’re here about your hobby, Mr Truss,’ Kim said.

‘Please call me Jared. You’re sitting in my bedroom.’

Kim accepted the premature intimacy and continued.

‘You enjoy spending time on a site called Seekers?’

‘Amongst others, but that one is the best.’

‘You’re quite popular on there,’ she observed.

He shrugged in a way that said he knew it.

‘A lot of people follow your puzzles.’

Again with the shrug, but this time it was accompanied by the beginnings of a smile or a smirk – she couldn’t tell which.

‘So much so you’re upsetting the apple cart a bit, eh?’

The smile disappeared. ‘Eric Lane is a total knob.’

He hadn’t needed telling who she was talking about.

‘Neck and neck on the ratings, yet you do things very differently.’

‘The knob is a purist. Wants to keep the puzzles how they’ve always been. That’s had its day. People want something a bit more exciting. They want to follow clues to a crime, to a place where something terrible happened. They want horror, ghosts, gore, excitement.’

‘And you give them that?’

‘If you’re asking, you haven’t watched any of my videos. Wanna see?’ he asked, turning to his computer.

‘I’m good, thanks – just explain to me what you do.’

‘I film myself out at night in the woods, by lakes, in dark scary places finding bones, blood pools, disfigured dolls, crucifixes, nooses.’

He was growing more and more animated.

‘So, whose puzzle are you following?’ Kim asked.

He looked at her as though that was perfectly obvious. ‘My own.’

Although Kim hadn’t warmed to Eric Lane, she was beginning to see what offended him about this kid.

Eric Lane set puzzles and then followed puzzles laid by others. It was an exchange of people laying and following clues. Intelligence and cunning pitted against each other equally. But Jared Truss was a one-man band.

‘I’m an entertainer,’ he said as though reading her thoughts. ‘I’m not gonna lie. I want subscribers to my channel. I want followers. I want sponsors. And I can only get what I want if I’m the best at what I do.’

‘So, the competition between the two of you is very real?’

‘Absolutely. I’m not going to let some old man get in the way of my plans.’

There was a hardness to Jared’s words that hadn’t been there before.

A wave of frustration surged through her. She had now met two people who used the Seekers site for their own reasons. Both of them potential suspects and she couldn’t do a thing. She couldn’t get warrants and she couldn’t interrogate them because right now she couldn’t even prove that a crime had been committed. If she could, she would have been coming at this guy with a bit more force. His interest in the macabre could indicate that he might not be averse to a bit of torture to get the win against Eric Lane and also to generate publicity for himself. No question this guy wanted his fifteen minutes of fame.

She had just one more question to ask.

‘And what are you willing to do to get what you want, Jared?’

‘Anything it takes, Officer, anything at all.’

THIRTY-TWO

4.30 P.M.

‘Will someone please take that pizza out of my sight?’ Stacey begged as a third piece began to wink at her.

When the boss ordered food, she sure knew how to take care of them. There were no supermarket meal deals or fast-food burgers. The pizzas, lasagne and cannelloni delivered by Luigi were all homemade, fresh and delicious.

‘I’ll put it with the rest,’ Penn said, lifting the box from the desk and taking it to the small kitchen area next door.

Thankfully the second segment of footage had arrived from Dudley Zoo while she’d been devouring the margherita.

Now she had a suspicion about who had planted the box, she wanted to get a better angle on what was under the pushchair, and more importantly, get an exact time that the woman had entered the zoo.

If she was honest, the figure she’d seen heading towards the reptile house was not what she’d expected, but if there was one thing this job had taught her, it was that appearances meant nothing. Some of the worst killers they’d come across wouldn’t stand out in a crowd.

She hadn’t yet mentioned her discovery to Penn, as unlike her colleague, she was hanging on to the hope they could save Hiccup before he suffered any more damage. As painful as the torture must have been, there was nothing yet that couldn’t be fixed.

She played the footage and found the exact time that the woman left the entrance lane.

She noted down the details and made another call to the zoo.

Travis, the security guy, answered the direct line he’d given her earlier.

‘Me again,’ Stacey said. ‘And I need more help. Not sure you’re the right person, but you haven’t done me wrong yet.’

‘Shoot,’ he said in the manner of someone who was having a slow day.

‘Got a female coming through the entrance lanes this morning. The exact time was nineteen minutes past ten. She came through kiosk A, and I need to know if she paid by cash or card. I completely understand if you can’t help me with that, but I need the information urgently.’

He hesitated.

‘You could be helping to save someone’s life.’

More hesitation. ‘Hang on,’ he said before the line went silent.

Penn had turned his attention from the clue to her.

She tapped her fingers while she waited.

And waited.

Five minutes later, he came back on the line.

‘Okay, the manager says I’m breaking no data protection laws by telling you that we did have a woman who used a debit card to enter the zoo at that exact time, but all I can give you is the name.’

‘That’s all I need, Travis, that’s all I need.’

THIRTY-THREE

4.50 P.M.

‘I swear to God that if Stacey ever wanted to spend more time in the field, we’d be fucked,’ Kim said as they pulled up outside the first maisonette block on the Hollytree Estate.

Kim couldn’t enter the area without a shudder. Not just because it was a cesspit that had collected the worst of humanity or even because every ounce of hope in the place had been shot down by addiction, crime and gang-controlled activity. The shudder was an involuntary physical reaction to being back where the most important thing in her life had been taken from her. Never would she visit this place and not recall the sensation of her twin brother’s body against hers as he slowly starved to death.

But she was here right now because one of her team was an absolute star. Stacey had managed to take a seed of information and grow it into an entire garden which included the address of the woman who had left the box at Dudley Zoo.

She knocked on the door of the second property along.

As it opened, Kim saw the pushchair folded against the wall and the pink jacket from the CCTV frame Stacey had sent hanging above it.

‘Joanne Deary?’

The woman nodded, and Kim knew immediately that she hadn’t lived on Hollytree very long. The place bred a hatred of the police, and the expressions on the faces of most long-term dwellers were usually full of disgust.

‘May we come in?’ Kim asked as they both held up their IDs.

Joanne’s expression faltered, but she stood aside. Another indicator that she was new to the estate. Most residents wouldn’t let them over the threshold.

They squeezed in between the door and the pushchair and felt the instant oppression of the home.

This side of the maisonette had a covered concrete walkway outside to support the walkway on the floor above, rendering the space dark and claustrophobic.

‘Can we talk in here?’ Joanne asked, pushing open the kitchen door. ‘The kids are asleep.’

Kim knew these properties well enough to bet that she’d find a small table against the wall immediately on her left. The space didn’t allow for it to be anywhere else.

Bryant entered the kitchen and placed himself in the far corner. Kim took one of the seats and quickly appraised the woman and her surroundings.

She made no judgement on the fact that the sink and countertops were filled with plastic plates and cutlery, that the floor was covered in crumbs or that food had landed on the cupboard doors and not been wiped away. She already knew that Joanne Deary was on her own.

‘We went to the zoo,’ she said as though reading Kim’s thoughts. ‘Haven’t had time to clear up yet.’

And that was the moment Kim knew that this was not their sicko. This was a woman with two young children who was just trying to get by. How could she judge a woman who although probably tired and frazzled had chosen to take her kids for a day out and worry about the mess later?

‘We know you were at the zoo,’ Kim said, and then to be sure she was correct, ‘but Mr Deary wasn’t there with you?’

‘How would you know that?’ she asked suspiciously.

Kim said nothing.

‘There is no Mr Deary. Well, there is, but I don’t know where he is.’

Kim waited.

‘Covid,’ she said. ‘And no, he didn’t die from it. The virus killed our marriage. He’s a chef. He was furloughed. He realised he didn’t like his kids that much after being stuck with them night and day. Took off to Brighton, I think.’

Ah, that explained a lot. At a guess, Kim would imagine the change in income had forced her to move and she’d been placed at the mercy of social housing.

‘This isn’t forever,’ she said, waving around the space. ‘Just until I get sorted.’

‘No family in the area?’ Kim asked.

A slight hesitation before she answered. ‘Not really.’

Kim chose not to pry further. It wasn’t the reason for her visit.

‘You placed a lockbox at the reptile house earlier today?’ Kim asked.

Just because she wasn’t their sicko didn’t mean they couldn’t learn something. Perhaps she even knew who their sicko was.

Joanne nodded. ‘I didn’t break any laws, did I?’

‘Of course not. I just need to ask a couple of questions.’

‘Okay.’

‘Did someone give you the box to put there?’ Kim asked.

Joanne shook her head. ‘It was a trail to follow.’

‘Is this something you do often?’

‘A couple of times a month. After Drew left, I had to come up with ways to keep my eldest occupied while getting him some fresh air. My uncle suggested it, and my boy loves it. We only do the simple ones though. And I only do them where there are lots of people around.’

‘Do you use the Seekers website?’

Joanne nodded.

‘And how did you find out about this one?’

‘I get a notification when a new trail is laid.’

Kim made a mental note to speak to Stacey, who was supposed to be keeping an eye on the website.

‘And what did it say?’

‘I’ve forgotten the exact wording, but there was a cryptic clue to locate the box, where to leave it and the promise of a reward.’

‘What was the collection point?’ Kim asked. He had to slip up sometime and reveal himself.

‘It was behind the bin in the zoo car park. I mean, it wasn’t hard, but I got there right before two other families.’

Kim was still surprised that this hobby was so popular and she’d never heard of it.

‘Did you look inside?’

Joanne shook her head. ‘No, you have to follow the instructions.’

‘And the reward?’ Kim asked.

‘Eighty pounds. Enough to get us into the zoo and for a slap-up lunch at The Oak Kitchen,’ she said with a wide smile. ‘Kids enjoyed every minute of it.’

And she was clearly thrilled to bits to have been able to give her kids such a great day out.

‘Can you tell me how the money was left?’ Kim asked.

‘In a plastic see-through envelope, you know, like a parking ticket.’

‘Did you keep the envelope?’

The woman frowned. ‘Why would I?’

Damn it. Any chance of prints was completely lost to them.

Kim could see nothing else to gain here. The woman was a courier. She’d seen an opportunity for a reward and a way to treat her kids.

‘Maybe I could help more if I knew what this was all about,’ she said as Kim pushed herself to a standing position.

‘I think you’ve answered all of our⁠—’

‘Just a couple more,’ Bryant interrupted.

Joanne Deary turned in her seat to face him.

‘You had a notification that a new trail was live, but we’re on the same site, so why didn’t we get the same notification?’

‘Depends what you’ve signed up for. There are different areas. We don’t subscribe to the adult section – it’s too expensive, and the trails are too hard.’

Kim groaned internally as she realised what Joanne was going to say and the reason they hadn’t spotted it.

‘We only subscribe to the section that’s for kids.’

Kim felt her fists clench. The bastard was one step ahead of them again.

‘Last question and then we’ll leave you in peace,’ Bryant said with the affable smile that seemed to win most people over.

Joanne proved no exception as she nodded obligingly.

‘You said you only ever do trails when there are plenty of people around. Any reason why?’

Kim hadn’t caught that, but he was right to ask. Other than their sicko, the hobby appeared to be squeaky clean.

‘The rape,’ Joanne said as though expecting them to know all about it.

‘What’s that now?’ Kim asked.

‘A woman was sexually assaulted following a trail just outside of Stourport. Six or seven months ago now.’

Ah, a West Mercia case.

‘Go on,’ Kim urged.

‘The trail was set on a free website called Little Trekkers. I got the link through Mumsnet. No joining fee or subscription, just different activities put on for mums with kids but not much money. The woman was attacked walking through a field that led from one clue to the next. Police didn’t believe her about following a trail. They thought she’d arranged to meet a guy, it got a bit rough and she needed a way to explain it to her boyfriend.’

‘How do you know all this?’ Kim asked.

‘Mumsnet.’

Kim wondered if she should maybe go to Mumsnet to get help with catching the Jester.

‘You’re sure it wasn’t a secret meeting?’ Kim asked. Much as she hated to admit it, there had been women who had cried rape, making it all the harder for the countless genuine victims.

‘She was with her seven-year-old daughter.’

‘Ah,’ Kim said. It would take a special kind of woman to arrange a secret sexual encounter with her child in tow. Kim’s interest was growing. ‘And you think the trail was from the Little Trekkers website?’

‘No,’ Joanne said, shuddering. ‘I know it was because I was going to do it as well.’

THIRTY-FOUR

5.15 P.M.

‘And there it is,’ Stacey said, scrolling the kids’ section of the Seekers site. ‘I mean, what kind of sicko involves kids in these gruesome discoveries?’

‘You still think he’s not so bad, Stace?’ Penn asked.

‘I never said he wasn’t a nasty, sick bastard; I just said I think he hasn’t killed before.’

She knew Penn remained unconvinced and he might be right, but she had long ago learned not to fight her own gut instinct in the face of other people’s opinions.

The post had been placed on the Baby Seekers section of the site at nine o’clock that morning.

She’d had the main trails page open and had been keeping tabs on new postings there while also checking other sites, but she hadn’t realised he’d be that despicable.

She went back to the home page. There were seven different boards, offering different kinds of trails.

She scrolled through each board looking for the most recent postings.

A ball of dread formed in her stomach.

The Jester had posted the clue for the Saltwells Nature Reserve at 11.01 a.m.

Under the same name and on a different seeker board he’d listed the clue for the zoo at exactly 3.01 p.m.

Shit, the boss was going to go mad.

Their sicko was turning the whole thing into a free-for-all. His clues included a deadline and hinted there’d be consequences if they didn’t solve them by the time stated. Was he going to post every clue publicly the minute the time limit expired? Was he trying to pile on the pressure of a member of the public getting to the box and the clue before they did? She could only imagine if that happened and the lucky finder went to the press with details of another body part from Hiccup. The media would slaughter them, not to mention that they’d lose access to the next clue.

Stacey shuddered just thinking about it.

But was this the only consequence, or would there be worse repercussions if they didn’t make a clue on time?

THIRTY-FIVE

5.25 P.M.

‘Are you kidding me?’ Bryant asked, looking at the sandwich in his hand.

‘It was the best they had. And I got you crisps,’ she said, tossing him a packet of salt and vinegar.

‘You’re telling me that even Frost gets some of Luigi’s finest and I get egg mayo?’

‘Triple pack,’ she said as if that made everything better.

She opened her own chicken salad sandwich, took a bite and could see his point.

They’d been heading back to the station when she’d received a call from Fred Guest, offering to meet her at the office. But when she’d learned he only lived in Old Hill, it had made more sense to visit him at home. She was pausing in the car outside his home for more reasons than having a bite to eat though.

‘Bryant…’

‘Don’t say it, guv,’ he groaned with dread in his voice.

‘Gotta do it,’ she said, taking out her phone.

He buried his head in his hands. ‘It has nothing to do with our case.’

‘And I’m sure you’ll enjoy your moment of triumph if you’re proven right. I’ll even let you do a lap of honour round the squad room. But I can’t ignore the fact that someone potentially got raped while following one of these bloody trails.’

‘Different county, different website, different type of crime.’

She raised an eyebrow. ‘You don’t see rape and torture as potentially being carried out by the same person?’

‘With our case, the torture is a side dish. The main event is the game. I really didn’t mean that how it sounded.’

‘I get what you mean, but I still think we need to know more,’ she said, pressing Stacey’s contact number.

‘Yo, boss,’ Stacey answered.

‘Stace, find out⁠—’

‘Hang on, boss. I’ve tried emailing and calling Ryan Douglas to ask him to block the Jester’s account on Seekers. I’m getting radio silence. Won’t respond at all. I’ve told him what we want him to do, but he’s either really busy or…’

‘He has no intention of stopping the Jester from posting,’ Kim finished for her.

She wasn’t surprised. The man was probably thrilled the Jester was using the Seekers site as a communication tool. Why should they expect him to co-operate with a police investigation when it was probably good for business?

‘Okay, Stace, can’t do any more without a warrant. I’ve got something else for you. Find out what you can about a rape just outside of Stourport around six months ago. Could be linked to a trail.’

‘You sure?’

‘Not yet. It’s all a mixture of hearsay and Mumsnet at the minute so see what you can find out. The site it was on was Little Trekkers if that helps.’

‘On it, boss,’ Stacey said before ending the call.

‘Not content to try and solve every case for West Mids police, you now wanna solve the cases of all the other forces as well,’ Bryant complained.

She ignored his jab. ‘Whether it went forward to CPS or not, evidence would still have been collected. What if they have something that helps us?’

‘Anything further that comes out of my mouth will just be a waste of breath,’ he said, opening the car door.

She followed his lead. As she got out of the car, she found herself surprised by the state of Fred’s property, having met the man himself.

The estate had been the pride of Old Hill when built in the seventies. Everyone living in council accommodation had tried to transfer to houses and flats in streets named Cherry Orchard and Blossom Grove. But many of those houses looked tired and deflated now, including the one occupied by the man they’d come to see.

Fred opened the door with a finger to his lips.

Kim instantly thought of grandchildren.

‘Please be quiet – I’ve only just got Dad off to sleep.’

‘Okay,’ Kim said, stepping inside and seeing a wheelchair beside a stairlift.

Fred pointed to the ceiling to indicate where his father was sleeping and ushered them into the lounge.

‘Is your father ill?’ Kim asked.

‘He has MS. Has done since I was twelve.’

‘And your mum?’ Kim said, taking a seat. Bryant did the same.

‘She died when I was thirteen. Just me and my dad.’

‘Other relatives?’ Bryant asked.

‘Not really,’ he said, reaching for a pile of papers.

Kim took a moment to survey her surroundings. Although tidy and functional, the house bore no hint of a woman’s presence. There was nothing to soften the edges, no flowers, candles or cushions. Only a couple of photos stood on the mantlepiece. One had been taken at the seaside, where a young Fred sat beside his father on a wall, and another showed a slightly older Fred sitting beside his dad’s wheelchair at some kind of function.

Kim could see it clearly. Fred had been a carer child.

She’d seen programmes about children who spent a great deal of time taking care of a parent. The programmes always saddened her, made her feel that the kids were missing out, that their childhood was being stolen.

For Fred, his father’s illness had developed at a time when he should have been forming friendships with peers, starting to discover his independence, girlfriends.

‘We were fine,’ Fred said as though reading her thoughts.

Kim highly doubted that. This would have been fifty years ago. There weren’t safeguards in place back then to make sure all the children’s needs were being met, that they finished their schooling, had time away from the sick relative, maybe met with other kids in their situation, and counselling wouldn’t have even been a thought.

She was betting that Mr Guest senior had been given the option of putting Fred in care and when he refused, they were pretty much left to their own devices.

She immediately saw Fred differently. This morning he’d been the authoritative busybody full of his own importance, and now she realised he was just doing what he’d always done: organise, sort, arrange, take care of things. He’d shown that trait in offering to collate the information he was handing to her now.

‘These are the names of the forty-three volunteers who turned up today. I don’t have all their addresses, but if I know what area they’re from, I’ve listed that too as well as their phone numbers.’ He paused. ‘I’ve spoken to them all.’

‘All of them?’ Kim asked, both surprised and impressed.

‘Well, I’ve had a few hours. None of them gave a label to anyone, but I guess someone could have happened along and helped themselves.’

‘I suppose⁠—’

‘So, on that premise,’ he said, cutting her off, ‘I asked them all if they remembered seeing anyone they didn’t recognise.’

‘And?’ Kim asked, considering offering the man a job.

‘Mrs Billingham thought she saw a teenager in joggers leaving the area as she pulled into the car park, and Mrs Smart saw someone she didn’t know with a rucksack not too far from the bridge.’

‘Any better description than that?’ Kim asked, already feeling sure that Fred would have asked.

He shook his head.

‘Okay, Fred, well thanks for this,’ she said, taking the list.

‘May I ask what’s going on, Officer?’

An instant refusal to divulge anything came to her lips, but she relented somewhat after the help he’d given them. Those phone calls had saved them hours.

‘We’re dealing with a twisted individual who thinks he can send the police on a wild goose chase. Except there’s no fun in this one for anybody except him.’

‘Sorry to hear you’re having your time wasted, Inspector. If there’s anything else I can help with, give me a shout.’ He raised his head towards the ceiling. ‘I’m not going anywhere.’

It was on the tip of her tongue to refuse, but you never knew when someone with Fred’s level of attention to detail might come in handy.

‘Thanks for that, Fred. You never know, we might just give you a call.’

THIRTY-SIX

5.55 P.M.

‘Well, Penn, you’ve got three hours and six minutes to solve that clue,’ Stacey said, flicking through the puzzle boards on the Seekers site.

‘Jeez, Stace, no pressure,’ he said, rubbing his forehead.

‘All I know is that at one minute past nine that clue is going live, and anyone following the news stories and the boards will have exactly what we have.’

He shook his head in frustration and went back to it.

‘I, on the other hand, have been given the names of forty plus volunteer litter-pickers to check out.’

The fact that neither Penn nor Frost bothered to answer her made her feel that she was the only person in the room. ‘And a possible rape in Stourport.’

Penn raised his head and one eyebrow at the same time.

Stacey shrugged. ‘No, I don’t know either, but it’s what the boss wants.’

‘Don’t get the connection,’ Penn said before lowering his head again.

‘And for anyone who’s interested, the boss is going to the morgue to see Mitch.’

Two grunts were the only reply.

She rolled her eyes before printing out the names sent over by the boss. For a moment, she questioned her own career choices. What the hell was she doing on a Sunday evening carrying out background checks on a group of litter-pickers?

Before making a start, she decided to have a scan for any information on the rape in Stourport. The quicker she could put it out of the boss’s mind, the better for all of them.

‘Posted,’ Frost said, sitting back, and Stacey realised it was the first time the reporter had spoken in hours.

‘Let me look,’ Stacey said, refreshing the Dudley News tab. The article appeared immediately, and Stacey could see that there were already almost a hundred people reading it.

Stacey looked at Frost, who nodded.

‘Yep, it’s gaining interest.’

Stacey read the article and had to give props to the reporter. She had followed the instruction given to her without glorifying or sensationalising the case. She was recording the facts without mentioning the names of the police involved.

‘You gonna be in shit for this?’ Stacey asked.

‘Oh, yeah.’

‘How deep?’

‘I’ll find out tomorrow.’

Stacey waited.

‘On some days of the week, my boss is a prick. On other days of the week, he’s a decent guy, but on every day of the week he fears bad press and a wrongful dismissal lawsuit.’

‘Wrongful even though he’s warned you?’ Stacey asked.

‘There’s a process, and every part of that process must involve the HR department. Right now, he thinks he’s scared me by giving me a verbal warning… except he hasn’t really cos even that requires the process to be followed.’

As if on cue, Frost’s phone rang. Stacey considered the fact that even a sharp word from her boss was enough to get her to pull her socks up.

Frost answered the call on loudspeaker.

‘Hey, boss.’

‘Frost, what the hell do you think you’re doing? I expressly forbade you to post another article about this ridiculousness.’

‘Ah, my mistake. I thought your words were in an advisory capacity.’

‘You thought me threatening the loss of your job was a bit of friendly banter?’

‘Of course. It’s Sunday. You wouldn’t fire me on a Sunday.’

The line went silent, and then Stacey heard a low growl from the other end.

‘But it’ll be Monday tomorrow, Frost.’

‘Yeah, and we might have caught this guy by then and I’ll have an exclusive on how it happened.’

Stacey had heard about the carrot-and-stick method to get what you want. Seemed Frost’s version of that was to shove the carrot where the sun doesn’t shine and then poke it further with the stick.

‘Frost, don’t even think about trying to change my mind. I expect you in my office at nine o’clock. Feel free to bring a witness,’ he shouted before ending the call.

‘Jeez, he sounds like he means it,’ Stacey said. ‘What are you gonna do?’

‘Whatever I think is right. He’s got nothing left to threaten me with, so much as I’d love to chat, I’d best get working on the next article.’

Stacey wondered if Frost and her boss had any idea how truly alike they were.

Before returning to her own list, she took another look at the engagement with the article that Frost had posted.

Almost a hundred comments and over a thousand views in the space of a few short minutes.

She clicked on the previous article and gasped. The one posted at lunchtime had been viewed seventeen thousand times and had almost three hundred comments.

‘You read any of those comments from the first post?’ she asked Frost.

The reporter shook her head. ‘Why would I? I wrote it. It’s mainly trolls who comment anyway.’

Stacey began scrolling, and she could see that Frost was right. Many comments were insulting the police. Others were insulting the reporter. The majority were egging on the person making all their lives a misery.

‘Awww… shit,’ Stacey said, finding what she’d suspected but hoped she was wrong about. She wasn’t wrong, and it was even worse than she thought.

‘He’s posting on your earlier article,’ she said.

‘What?’ Frost asked, clicking a few keys on her laptop.

‘Oh, yeah. He’s having a great old time replying to the comments that are congratulating him. Only a few words here and there, thanking people for their support. Except for this one here where someone asks what the police looked like, running around the nature reserve carrying their coffee and donuts.’

‘What’s he say?’ Penn asked, looking up.

‘He says “they could move pretty quick when they wanted to”.’

Penn groaned, understanding her concern immediately.

He’d been there to witness it. He was watching their every move.

THIRTY-SEVEN

6 P.M.

THE JESTER’S STILL IN TOWN

By Tracy Frost

West Midlands Police are still working to track down the man who calls himself the Jester.

So far the search has led them from the Saltwells Nature Reserve to Dudley Zoo. Who knows where else they’ll be sent over the next few hours?

I won’t reveal anything that will impede the police investigation, but I can confirm that the man is clever. His clues are cryptic enough that they take some working out, and yet they are solvable within the given time period.

Why, you might wonder, are the police even entertaining this game, chasing around the Black Country to the tune of a time-waster?

I can tell you why. They have no choice.

The Jester has made it abundantly clear that either the rules must be followed or people will get hurt. He has proved this not to be an empty threat.

If it sounds as though I might be developing a grudging respect for this particular team of police, you might be right. That will pass once this case is over, and I can again view them objectively. But for now they are leaving no stone unturned trying to catch this man.

And I believe they will succeed.

THIRTY-EIGHT

6.30 P.M.

‘I bloody knew it,’ Kim said after ending the call from Stacey. ‘The bastard was there this morning. He’s watching us. I knew there was a reason that damn label was missing.’

‘You think he was there from the start?’ Bryant asked as they headed towards the morgue.

Kim shook her head, getting out of the way of a group of visitors who weren’t separating for anybody. She narrowly avoided a ‘Get Well Soon’ balloon that seemed to have a mind of its own. ‘He would have stood out if he’d been amongst the group at the briefing, but once everyone was involved in the search, they wouldn’t have really noticed an unfamiliar face. We could have walked right past him. Jared, Ryan or Eric could have been there and would have avoided us easily. We weren’t even looking for our guy cos we were too busy looking for a damn box.’

‘I’ll say this. He’s got some bloody neck,’ Bryant said as they turned the corner to find the forensic techie waiting for them.

‘You know, I always wondered why Keats gave you such a hard time,’ Mitch said, keying them into his small lab close to the morgue.

She nodded towards her colleague. ‘Well, Bryant could have helped you out with that one. I’m just as shitty to him.’

‘Was it really necessary to harass me at the pub with my wife?’ he asked, not letting her off the hook that easily.

‘Shoulda answered your phone,’ she said without apology. ‘Now, what you got for me?’

‘You’re not even sorry for the shit I’m in when I get home?’ he asked incredulously.

She shook her head. ‘Just imagine how badly life would suck for you if your work colleagues were pissed at you as well,’ she said, patting his arm to reassure him that wasn’t the case.

He gave in and walked to his work bench.

‘Okay, the teeth were extracted crudely and without doubt painfully.’

‘For sure?’

‘Oh yeah. Firstly, the teeth weren’t in great condition, weak and full of cavities, meaning it was unlikely they were pulled out with one swift movement. There would have been intense tugging and pulling to get them out. Especially these.’

Mitch pushed forward the molars.

‘Pulled out with what?’ Kim asked, already dreading the answer.

‘Household pliers would be my guess. Dentists use special forceps that can help loosen the teeth first. They’re designed to get the best grip to lessen the pain, and that’s with anaesthetic.’

Kim shuddered and moved on. ‘Last couple of questions and then I’ll let you go home and face the music.’

‘Shoot,’ he said as the tension dropped out of his face. He could now see the light at the end of the tunnel.

‘Can we confirm if the fingernails and teeth are definitely from the same person?’

‘Yeah, in about two weeks. Extraction of DNA from teeth takes time. It ain’t like a mouth swab.’

‘But you have blood on both the fingernails and the teeth,’ Kim argued. Blood was good for DNA surely.

‘It’s too late on a Sunday to talk to you about leukocytes, thrombocytes and erythrocytes…’

‘Gotta be a song in there somewhere,’ Bryant quipped.

Nobody laughed.

Mitch continued. ‘Only leukocytes contain a nucleus, so we have to⁠—’

‘You’ll look at it tomorrow?’ Kim pushed. If she’d wanted to know the details of forensic procedure, she’d have taken a course.

He sighed. ‘I’ll make a start tomorrow.’

‘And I’d like to know whether there’s the trace of any painkillers in his blood.’

‘I can try to look for some of the obvious over-the-counter medications if there’s enough blood, but how does that help you find your homeless guy?’

‘It doesn’t, but it does tell us a lot about the person who has him. Just how ruthless he is or if there’s an ounce of compassion in there somewhere.’

Mitch nodded his acknowledgement.

‘Thanks, Mitch,’ she said, heading out the door.

‘See you tomorrow,’ he called after her. She was unsure if it was a harmless farewell or a statement of fact.

She let it slide. He might be right… but who knew what they were going to find in the next box.

THIRTY-NINE

7 P.M.

Frost admitted to herself that she wasn’t quite as blasé about losing her job as she seemed.

She was a single woman with a car and a mortgage. She had no partner who could pick up the slack until she found another job and, to be honest, there wasn’t that much else out there.

Yeah, there were days when the job was shit and she was covering local events instead of crime, but her editor kept her busy enough to earn a full-time wage.

Of course, there were jobs elsewhere if she wanted to move. But she’d tried that a couple of years back. She’d accepted a position in London, rented out her house for six months and had returned the day that six-month lease had expired. Luckily her editor had missed her as much as she’d missed her job and had been happy to call her absence an aberration.

Within days, it had felt like she’d never been away. If this lot thought she was ruthless, cold and unfeeling, she could tell them she was a pussycat compared to the tyrants in London. Her own bag of dirty tricks was like a game of tiddlywinks compared to some of the stunts she’d seen pulled. There had been the obvious ‘give you a chance to tell your side of the story tactic’, but that was par for the course. She’d seen reporters trespassing on victims’ properties to get a quote. She’d seen forged documents, false statements, bribery, threats and intimidation.

She shuddered just thinking about it. So despite the bravado she showed to other people, she really did care about keeping her job.

But much as this team would never accept it, she also believed in doing the right thing. There was no doubt in her mind that while this sicko was putting lives in danger, she was going to follow his instructions until her boss locked her out of the system or her hands dropped off.

Despite searching the full seven years of her writing at the Dudley Star, she still hadn’t uncovered any reason why she had been chosen. She’d never done puzzles herself, she’d never interviewed anyone from that community and she’d never written about anything to do with it.

Her online posts averaged three to four thousand reads if they were standalone articles. If it was a series of linked articles, the readership tended to increase as time went on. But these articles had proven more popular than she could have imagined. The second piece had more traction than the first, and perversely the Jester appeared to have captured the imagination of the locals who were watching and commenting in earnest. Engagement numbers were great for her ego, but a part of her had wished that her stories would go unnoticed, thereby denying him the adulation and approval he seemed to crave.

Only two weeks ago, she’d written a series of articles over a weekend about the rise of antisocial behaviour and incidents going unreported. By the end of the Sunday, it had earned a mention on the national news.

‘Aww… shit,’ Frost said, unable to believe this had been staring her in the face all day.

Penn and Stacey both looked at her.

‘I know why he chose me, and I know what he wants. Two weeks ago, I wrote a story that got national coverage.’

‘So, it’s not just about the game?’ Penn asked.

‘Nope. I think our guy also wants his fifteen minutes of fame.’

FORTY

7.50 P.M.

‘Well, he ain’t getting any fame if I have anything to do with it,’ Kim said, once she’d been updated by the team. She glanced longingly at the coffee pot that was still brewing courtesy of Penn. Would she even have a chance for a drink before tearing off to the next location?

She was surprised it had taken Frost almost twelve hours to work out that was why she’d been chosen. If she worked at that speed all the time, she’d never succeed on this team.

Kim had resolved to go easier on the reporter. After telling Bryant that she wasn’t enjoying having Frost in their squad room, she had been reminded by her colleague that the woman was risking her job to work with them, and she knew that situation was growing worse from the text updates she was getting from Stacey. One of those messages had said that Frost had gone to use the ladies’ room and the constable wanted to know if she should follow.

Kim had let that one go unanswered.

‘Okay, recap from us first,’ Kim said after taking a sip of her coffee. ‘To start with, this whole puzzling geocaching thing is a lot more serious than we thought. It is hugely competitive for the players and pretty lucrative for the site. Ryan Douglas was in no rush to hand over any personal details to us.’

‘Not sure they’d be any good, boss. This guy is posting under the name of Jester674 so I reckon he’s found a way to hide his real identity.’

Kim supposed Stacey was right, but she was still narked that the site owner had chosen to be unco-operative. She really wanted a reason to go shove a warrant in his face.

‘Next, we met the Lane family. Eric, his wife Helen and mini-me son Boyce appear to have been lifted from the pages of a fifties’ magazine. Derren, the younger son, is most definitely a child of today.

‘The other half of that ongoing rivalry is a guy who wants to make headlines. Jared Truss enjoys the glory and the attention. He likes to shock, and it seems he’ll do pretty much anything to increase his followers on YouTube.’

‘Subscribers,’ Frost corrected.

‘Whatever,’ Kim said before continuing. ‘They’re both pretty serious about this trailing and tracking and gameplay, and they both seem to want something different from it. Jared wants nothing more than his own TV show, and Eric wants nothing more than for Jared to be gone so that he can be King of the Seekers.’

‘But it’s a hobby,’ Penn said, shaking his head.

‘That led to someone getting sexually assaulted,’ Kim reminded him.

He nodded his agreement.

‘One thing is clear, guys. Even though we’ve got no choice but to follow the clues, we can’t rely on them to solve this case for us. We’ve got to keep thinking and digging and searching and analysing everything and everyone like we do on every other case we work. I think that Joanne Deary, the woman who moved the box at the zoo, is a single mother doing her best to entertain her kids on a budget. But no one’s name comes off the list yet.’ She paused to pour herself a coffee. ‘Mitch is doing more tests on the nails and teeth tomorrow when the lab is back in action.’

Everyone nodded they were up to date, but the detective constable appeared to want to offer something.

‘Stace?’

‘He’s playing with us,’ Stacey said.

‘That’s hardly news.’

‘I mean, he’s changing the rules as he goes along. The time difference between the first clue and the second was three hours. Now it looks like it’s gone to six hours. He’s trying to time everything to the exact minute, and if we fail, he’s throwing the clue out there to cause chaos, almost like he’s annoyed with us if we don’t make it.’

Kim wasn’t sure about that. She wondered if Stacey was giving too much thought to the workings of the sicko’s mind. Right now, all she saw was a monster who enjoyed torturing someone who had trusted him, and wanted to make the papers.

‘If you want more good news,’ Frost added, ‘my articles are getting a lot of attention.’

‘Go on,’ Kim said, giving her permission to speak.

‘We have people travelling from miles around to follow the game. My last article has been shared hundreds of times, and the comments are approaching a thousand. Normally this would be great news, but these people are just gonna get in the way.’

‘It’s Sunday evening. Don’t any of them have jobs?’

Frost shrugged.

‘We have got to find the boxes before anyone else does. We need to solve the clues before Hiccup⁠—’

‘Oh, I wondered when he was going to get a mention,’ Penn said, speaking for the first time.

It was rare to hear an edge to Penn’s voice. His affable, good-natured personality meant that it took a lot to get him worked up.

She glanced at Stacey, who offered a pensive expression and a shrug.

Kim folded her arms and waited.

‘I mean, it’s not like he’s the priority here. We’re talking more about some sicko than we are about the victim, a man who has literally nothing.’

Kim wanted to reassure him that Hiccup was at the front and centre of her mind. If he wasn’t, they’d all be at home finishing off their weekend. But she held her tongue. Penn wasn’t in the mood for listening.

‘We can’t even imagine what these souls go through on a daily basis. None of us has ever been hungry enough to consider eating someone else’s rubbish. I mean actually taking it out of a bin that’s full of cigarette ends and dog shit.’ Penn paused to look around the room.

‘Anyone here ever do that?’

Kim’s silence was a signal to her colleagues to stay quiet too.

‘I’m not saying they’re all angels, but some of them, like Hiccup, have just had a shit time, and now some bastard thinks they can just cut him up into small pieces and send them to us. He’s an accessory, a puzzle piece, like a die or a counter.’

He looked again for a reaction.

Silence.

‘It’s a fucking joke,’ he said, combing his fingers through his curly hair. ‘How are the rest of you not incensed⁠—’

‘Penn, Bowl,’ Kim interrupted. She was happy to let him rant at the injustice of the situation, but he was probably only a couple of sentences away from saying something he’d regret.

She closed the door behind him.

‘Vent at me, not them,’ she said, pointing for him to take a seat.

‘I just don’t get it, boss. No one seems to give a shit about⁠—’

‘What are we all doing here, Penn?’ she asked, waving towards the rest of the team. ‘We’re over twelve hours into this thing and it’s not ending any time soon. You heard any one of them mention the word home? Anybody planning on leaving their post?’

He said nothing, just wiped at already sore eyes.

‘The only thing keeping us all here is the hope of finding Hiccup before getting any more bits of him. Even Frost is risking her job to do the right thing.’

He took a deep breath and exhaled. ‘I know. You’re right, and I’m…’

‘Exhausted and emotionally involved,’ Kim finished for him.

They had all spent time amongst the homeless community but Penn more than most. It didn’t help that his default position in life was wanting everyone to be happy. His lifelong experience of protecting Jasper had given him an affinity for anyone less fortunate. All reasons why she couldn’t even be angry at his outburst.

‘It’s ten past eight. I want you to take some time to decompress. Take a nap, meditate, deep breathe, anything, but if you leave this office in the next couple of hours, I’ll have you removed from the station, got it?’

‘I’m fine, boss. I need to work on the clue. We need⁠—’

‘Two hours, Penn. I mean it,’ she said, stepping out of the Bowl back into the squad room.

She didn’t like benching anyone, but she sensed that Penn’s frustration had been growing all afternoon after his morning out and about. His mind needed a reset, and much as she couldn’t afford to lose anyone for even a minute, it was her job to make sure they were functioning.

He was right about the clue though. They had less than an hour to solve this one and find the next. None of them wanted to learn the repercussions if they failed.

FORTY-ONE

8.20 P.M.

‘Okay, as we were,’ Kim said, turning to Stacey. ‘Anything on the sexual assault?’

‘It happened in April, according to Mumsnet.’

‘Is that the source of our information?’ Kim asked.

‘There’s virtually no press on it, and let me tell you, that community is not to be messed with.’

‘Isn’t it just a chat room for swapping parenting tips?’ Bryant asked. ‘I mean the name says⁠—’

‘Oh, Bryant,’ Stacey said, shaking her head. ‘I do worry about you in this modern world. You’re right that it is the country’s most popular meeting point for parents, but it’s much more than that. There are eight million unique users every month and upwards of twenty thousand posts every day. There are baby product reviews, advice on getting pregnant, discussions about babies and toddlers. Some just use it as a shoulder to cry on. They pool knowledge on activities, cheap meals, supermarket offers, behaviour problems. Pretty much anything.’

‘Go on,’ Kim said.

‘I’ve confirmed what Joanne told you. Mumsnet does post links to treasure hunts, and many of the members used Little Trekkers for activities. Within a couple of hours, this particular trail disappeared from the site though.’

‘Okay,’ Kim said as the gnawing feeling in her stomach gained appetite. Why would the trail have been taken down so soon?

‘And I also know who our victim is. Her name is Melissa Keene.’

‘Bloody hell, Stace, how’d you find that out?’ Bryant asked.

‘Like every other community, Mumsnet is pretty cliquey. I found the group of people talking about the incident the most, who were referring to the victim as MK. Scroll back long enough and there was a Melissa Keene interacting with this same group right up until the date of the rape. Nothing since.’

‘Bloody good work, Stace,’ Kim said.

‘Want me to speak to West Mercia in the morning?’

Kim glanced at Bryant, who wasn’t looking as convinced as he’d been earlier about this being a waste of time.

‘Yeah, give them a call. It’s a lead we can’t ignore. But for now let’s focus on the information we have,’ she said, looking towards the wall.

Even though Stacey had written the clue on the board, Kim couldn’t help reading it aloud in the hope it would make some kind of sense.

‘“This might be a folly. Ramble high b4 you see the blackened hill.”’

‘The whole thing would be a folly if it weren’t for the fact we’re receiving body parts,’ Bryant said.

‘Is that what he means, that this clue is a folly?’ Kim asked.

‘Part of it might be,’ Stacey said. ‘But he has to give us something, a chance to figure it out.’

‘Blackened hill in the Black Country where we’re practically built on coal. Jesus, it could be anywhere.’

‘Hang on,’ Stacey said, ‘let’s focus on the key words one at a time. Folly, joke.’

‘Lack of good sense, foolishness,’ Frost read from her screen.

‘Thanks for⁠—’

‘Or a costly ornamental building with no practical purpose, especially a tower or mock-Gothic ruin built in a large garden or park.’

‘What follies are there in the Black Country?’ Kim said, turning to Stacey.

‘Broadway Tower,’ she answered.

‘Alice’s Folly at the Black Country Metal Works,’ Bryant said.

‘Lots of follies at Hawkstone Park and other country homes open to the public,’ Stacey bounced back.

‘Ramble high,’ Kim said. ‘So strike any that are in the gardens of stately homes. Now what the hell is b4? Are we dealing with a teenager who doesn’t use complete words?’

‘He hasn’t done that in any other clue,’ Bryant observed.

‘Hang on,’ Kim said as a sudden thought struck her. ‘There are four stones at the top of Clent, but they’re not a f⁠—’

‘Oh yes they are,’ Stacey said, reading excitedly from the screen. ‘The mystical site was erected around 1763 by workers for the eccentric Lord Lyttleton of Hagley Hall.’ Stacey paused before continuing. ‘And on a clear day you can see Black Mountain in the⁠—’

Kim didn’t wait for Stacey to finish before she grabbed her coat and ran.

FORTY-TWO

8.40 P.M.

Stacey glanced towards the Bowl before taking out her list of names again.

Penn had turned his back, but she could tell he wasn’t resting from the fingers drumming on the desk.

She just hoped he came out in a better state of mind. She also couldn’t help feeling mortified that his outburst had been witnessed by Frost, whose opinion of her colleague might now be inaccurate.

‘I don’t care,’ Frost said as though reading her thoughts.

‘How’d you know what I was thinking?’ Stacey asked.

‘Your eyes are darting from me to him and I’m not stupid. Plus, as I said, I don’t care.’

Stacey realised that the woman could sit in that seat for a hundred years and she still wasn’t going to warm to her.

She turned her attention back to the list of volunteers who had assisted with the litter-pick what felt like three days ago but had only been that morning.

The names blurred into one mass of scribble. She tried to blink away the weights that were attached to her eyes. For the first time since 7 a.m., she felt the seeds of frustration. She’d been at the screen for almost fourteen hours with barely a toilet break. They were all tired. She knew that, but it was starting to feel that no one was looking out for her.

Again, she stared at the names, wondering where to start.

‘Take a break, Stace,’ said a voice from above.

She hadn’t even noticed Penn leave the Bowl against the boss’s instructions.

‘I’m fine. I just need to⁠—’

‘I know exactly what you need to do. I’m back, Stace. I outrank you, and I’m ordering you to take a break.’

FORTY-THREE

8.50 P.M.

‘There are a few ways to get to them,’ Kim said, trying to figure out the quickest route to the Four Stones. She and Barney had spent many hours exploring the four-hundred-acre site but had very rarely hiked to the top as it was often busy with dog walkers, which didn’t please either her or Barney.

‘Turn left here,’ she said. Of the three car parks, the St Kenelm’s Pass Lane was the closest, but the hike was up a fairly steep hill, approximately one kilometre long.

‘Shit,’ Kim said as they pulled into the car park. Three other cars were there.

‘Bloody dog walkers,’ Bryant said to lighten the mood.

A bit strange given that it was almost nine and the pathways weren’t lit.

‘You ready?’ she asked as they got out of the car.

‘One sec,’ he said, taking out his phone.

He snapped a photo of each number plate. It was a sensible move that she should have thought of herself. Her own focus was on the time it was going to take them to get to the top.

They were eight minutes to the deadline. After that, it was fair game.

One kilometre up a steep hill to get to the box and the next clue.

There was no way in hell they were going to make it on time.

FORTY-FOUR

8.58 P.M.

Penn couldn’t throw off the mortification he felt at his own poor performance.

Not only had he failed to get his head around the clue, but he had also allowed himself to become too focussed on Hiccup and what the poor guy was going through. On top of that he’d had a meltdown in front of the boss and been benched like a naughty kid being put in time out.

He hadn’t rested, but he had taken the time in the Bowl to get his head straight and remove it from his ass.

And all the while, his colleague was growing more and more fatigued from carrying his weight today.

Despite the boss’s instructions to remain put, he had decided that Stacey needed the rest more than he did. Now, he could see she was managing to get a catnap in the Bowl.

‘Jeez, there are times I’m glad I work alone,’ Frost said.

‘Yeah, your colleagues probably agree,’ Penn replied.

‘Funny,’ she said before leaving her desk.

She grabbed his mug on the way past, so he knew she hadn’t taken offence.

He was about to turn back to the list of volunteers when his phone buzzed an alarm. It was 9.01 and he needed to check the boards on the Seekers site.

He clicked into the main puzzle board and there it was, a brand-new post giving the clue.

‘Damn it,’ Penn muttered. He’d never been up to the Four Stones, but a quick look on Google Maps had told him it was quite the hike, and the boss probably wasn’t even there yet.

More importantly, there were now almost seven people actively watching the puzzle.

This thing was getting more and more attention, and that was exactly what this sicko desired.

FORTY-FIVE

9.05 P.M.

‘What the hell?’ Kim cried as they reached the top of the hill.

Her first thought upon seeing the dancing torch beams was some kind of night-time pagan ritual. She knew the religion was practised in other areas of the Black Country, but she hadn’t heard of it on the Clent hills.

She was sure Bryant would have replied if he’d had enough breath left in his body. Her own voice was little more than a croak.

But her fatigue was forgotten as she headed towards the six figures bathed in torchlight around the Four Stones. Thankfully, they were all fully dressed, and one of them was holding a box.

‘Do not open that box,’ she shouted, fixing the holder with her most intimidating stare.

‘Hand it over,’ she went on, barging into the middle of the group.

The man holding the box just about reached her shoulder and pulled the box into his midriff protectively. Already she could see it was a bigger box than the last one.

‘Why should I?’

‘Because of this,’ Bryant said, shoving his warrant card into the man’s face.

Her colleague had recovered quicker than she’d anticipated.

‘I haven’t done anything wrong,’ the man said petulantly, holding the box tighter.

‘Name?’ Bryant asked, taking out his notebook.

There was no way he could see to write anything down, but the action had the desired effect.

‘Barnaby Kett. This is my husband, Jeremiah Kett.’

One of the others raised his hand.

‘And the rest?’

‘We’re part of a night ramblers group. I’m not giving up the box. Finders keepers. You’re not a rambler, so why do you want it?’

‘Did someone send you?’ Kim asked, wondering if this was yet another of the Jester’s distractions.

The puzzlement on his face was genuine. ‘Send us? We do this twice a month.’

Jeez, it was just her luck to run into a group of folks who liked to ramble in the dark. How many other weird hobbies were going on right under her nose that she didn’t know about?

The man looked down at the box and then back at her. ‘You’ve really piqued my interest as to what’s inside it now. Do you have a warrant to take it from me because if not, I think I’m going to keep it.’

Kim didn’t generally like to believe in stereotypes, but there was definitely some short-man energy about Barnaby Kett right now. She had no choice but to match it with some tall-girl energy of her own.

‘Mr Kett, I’m gonna level with you. I am having a really shit day. I’ve been up for what seems like days, I’ve done more miles around the Black Country than the local bus service, people have pissed me off, I’ve pissed off other people and I’ve had nowhere near enough coffee to be dealing with this shit. So I am taking that box from you even if I have to wrestle you to the ground. Do you understand?’

He thrust it towards her at last, and she was glad he’d taken that route. Not because she’d offered an empty threat but because it would have been another complaint for Woody to question her about. God only knew how many she was going to accrue before they found this sicko.

‘We’ll take it to the car,’ Kim said, turning away from Barnaby Kett.

‘Should we add his name to the list, guv?’ Bryant asked as they walked away.

‘In my current mood, I’m gonna add the name of the girl who served us coffee at the drive-thru to the list.’

‘Gemma?’ he asked.

‘You know her?’

‘Name badge.’

She shook her head. Over fourteen hours in, and he was still noting the small details.

Using their phones for light, they traversed the path back to the car, choosing to concentrate instead of speaking.

‘Put the light on,’ she said once they were back in the car. ‘And shine your phone torch here.’

Bryant did as she asked.

She opened the box and almost gagged as Bryant let out a small groan.

Lolling around the box with no effort to even package it was a dirty severed thumb, with no nail.

‘And a video camera this time,’ Bryant noted.

‘No prizes for guessing what that’s gonna show.’

‘Do we need to⁠—’

‘Yes, Bryant, we do,’ she said, taking the old-fashioned Sony camcorder from the box. She already knew the envelope would contain the next clue.

She took a breath before pressing Play.

The sound registered before the visual. Hiccup was already screaming.

From his position, he must have known what was about to happen.

The camera was positioned above his hand, which had been secured to keep the thumb as far apart as possible from the rest of the fingers.

‘No… no… please don’t… I’m begging…’

Kim didn’t want to watch, but she had to. More than anything, she wanted to cover her ears against the undiluted fear in Hiccup’s voice.

The screen was obscured by metal as a cleaver chopped down and severed the thumb. It jumped away from the rest of the hand as though a current had been shot through it.

Nausea hit her as the screams changed from terror to agony.

The camera remained on the trembling hand for a few seconds before the screen went blank.

Kim knew there was no purpose to watching it again for clues. At no time had she seen who was holding the cleaver. Not even his hand had appeared in the frame.

‘Read the clue, Bryant,’ she instructed, eager to put something else in her mind.

‘“Find my next by 3 a.m. or…”’

‘Or fucking what?’ she said, turning her face towards her colleague. ‘Where’s the damn clue?’

‘That’s it, guv. Nothing else,’ he said, turning the card over.

With each new communication, she could understand Penn’s rage more. The injustice of what was being done to Hiccup was gnawing a hole in her stomach, and she was growing to hate their sicko more with every passing hour.

FORTY-SIX

9.30 P.M.

Penn wasn’t sure there was ever a time they’d had so many names on the board.

The boss had just called through another name and three more registration numbers. Given the volume of potential suspects, he was doing little more than checking them for convictions before moving on to the next name.

His gaze kept returning to the board, considering his options.

There had to be front runners. He agreed that their guy could be amongst the names on the board, but didn’t it make more sense to focus on someone who had been actively involved? On someone who had actually moved one of the boxes?

He typed the name Joanne Deary into Google. He’d already checked that she wasn’t known to them, but he wanted to see what else he could learn about her. The boss had made it clear that no one’s name came off the list.

Immediately, he could see that her name came up on most social networking platforms. Not unusual for a single woman with two children. Probably she craved company outside of baby talk and watching kids’ TV.

She seemed to be most active on Instagram.

As he scrolled through her posts, he lost heart in his own logic.

Every single photo was of her kids. One of them, both of them, all three of them together. No pictures of her out with friends, eating somewhere with adults or doing things on her own.

There was nothing wrong with this picture except that she needed to find an occasional sitter for some ‘me’ time.

He’d scrolled back almost a year and found nothing.

He was about to move on to the next name on the list when a post caught his attention.

It was a small gathering for a child’s birthday party. A couple of people were tagged, and they were both names he recognised.

FORTY-SEVEN

9.50 P.M.

‘You know they ain’t gonna like this one little bit,’ Bryant said as they got out of the car.

‘It’s hardly the middle of the night,’ she said as she knocked the door.

‘Not for us,’ he said, pointing to the front window.

There was no need. She’d already clocked that there appeared to be no lights on.

She knocked again.

Lights went on, and footsteps sounded as they approached the door.

‘How many times have I told you…?’

Mrs Lane stopped speaking as she realised they weren’t whoever she’d been expecting. Her expression changed from mild irritation to outrage.

‘May we come in, Mrs Lane?’ Kim asked pleasantly.

‘No, you may not. How dare you make house calls at this time of night.’

‘May we speak to Mr Lane?’ Kim asked.

‘I can’t even imagine what you’d want with my husband, but he’s not here. Please call at a more reasonable time,’ she said, attempting to close the door on them.

The dour woman appeared to still be aggravated that they’d disrupted Sunday lunchtime earlier, and, quite frankly, Kim was starting to feel less tolerant of people with a fucking bad attitude.

She placed her foot in the doorway. ‘And where might he be?’ she asked, allowing her voice to rise in volume.

‘He’s at the pub,’ Mrs Lane said, lowering her own voice as Kim had hoped she would.

‘Fine, just tell us where and we’ll be on our way,’ Kim said, almost shouting.

Mrs Lane’s face turned panic-stricken as she looked from one neighbouring house to the other.

To some people, appearances were everything.

‘You’d better come in and wait,’ she huffed, pulling her dressing gown tighter around her body.

‘Thank you,’ Kim said as though she hadn’t had to subtly threaten the woman with public humiliation.

‘Wait in there,’ she said, pointing to the lounge and entering the kitchen.

Kim followed her instead, realising the house was awfully quiet for a property with two lads.

‘Sons playing video games?’ Kim asked.

Mrs Lane turned, her face contorted with horror. Kim first thought it was due to not realising she was being followed to the kitchen instead of leaving her visitors in the lounge as instructed.

‘My boys don’t play idle video games. Derren uses technology only for his college work, and Boyce has no interest in the internet.’

Kim didn’t believe either one of those statements.

‘They’re very quiet, aren’t they?’

‘Derren is at a friend’s house studying, and Boyce is already in bed.’

And the delusion about her younger son continued. Though after meeting Boyce, she could believe he was safely tucked up by 10 p.m.

‘Mrs Lane, while we wait for your husband, would you mind telling us about your family’s relationship with Joanne Deary?’

If Kim had thought the woman looked sour-faced before then, a whole jug of pure lemon juice had been added. The look in her eyes spat venom.

‘There is no relationship with that woman.’

The plot was thickening, Kim thought, stealing a glance at Bryant, who had followed them to the kitchen.

‘Well, there is according to her Instagram post of a birthday party almost a year ago. Is she not your niece?’

‘She’s not related to me by blood. That’s my husband’s side.’

‘You’re not close then?’ Kim asked.

Her face contorted as though there were many responses dying to break free from those pursed lips, but instead, for safety, she just shook her head.

‘But you were at your great-nephew’s sixth birthday party?’

Mrs Lane was saved from answering as the front door opened and Eric Lane appeared.

He pointedly looked at his watch as he approached them. ‘Please explain the meaning of this.’

‘They’re asking about Joanne,’ Mrs Lane blurted out.

Kim remained silent, hoping the man would say something that might offer an answer to the discord in the Lane family.

Joanne had mentioned that she’d been put onto the Seekers site by a relative. Kim had just had no clue that the relative concerned was the purist Eric Lane. Penn had redeemed himself for his earlier outburst after digging up that little nugget.

‘What about her?’ Eric asked, giving away nothing in his words or tone.

‘She has come to our attention as part of the same case that brought us to your door. A bit coincidental, don’t you think?’

‘Not if it’s anything to do with the Seekers site. I suggested she use it during the pandemic. She needed fun things to do with the kids.’

In her peripheral vision, Kim could see Mrs Lane’s expression growing more and more twisted.

Interesting.

‘Well, that was nice of you,’ she said as he removed his jacket.

‘She’s my niece,’ he said flatly.

‘But you’re not close anymore?’

‘Things happen, Inspector,’ he said, brushing past her and heading for the sink. He took a glass and filled it with water before turning back towards her. ‘Families drift apart.’

Mrs Lane’s clenching and unclenching fist belied that it was that simple, but she was unsure if she was just involving herself in family politics. Perhaps it was nothing more serious than Mrs Lane offering too much advice on raising children. Maybe they’d lent Joanne some money at a difficult time and she’d never paid it back. Either way, she wasn’t convinced the answer was going to solve her case, but she did have another thought.

‘She mentioned something about a sexual assault earlier. Just outside Stourport. Did you hear anything about it?’

‘Should I have?’ he asked as Mrs Lane took the water glass from the side and rinsed it.

‘I’d have been surprised if you hadn’t. The victim was a woman following a trail from a free-to-join puzzles website. Surely it was discussed amongst your community?’

He folded his arms and shook his head. ‘Not with me.’

She was prevented from asking anything further as the younger Lane boy breezed in and dropped his backpack on the floor.

‘Well, well, well, it’s you again. Please say you’re arresting them and taking them away,’ he said, glancing at his parents.

Kim heard no edge of humour in his voice, but his mother turned her grimace into a smile.

‘Good study session?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, Ma, awesome.’

Only a woman in denial would offer the satisfied smile that rested on her lips. Kim realised that Mrs Lane had given up any kind of control of this child and chose to pretend his behaviour and attitude were normal so she didn’t have to address it.

Kim watched as Derren threw open the fridge door and started removing ingredients.

‘I fancy an omelette – anyone want one?’

His parents didn’t answer, and Kim suspected the offer didn’t extend to them.

He opened a drawer and chose the larger frying pan at the bottom, causing the whole arrangement to clatter loudly.

‘Shh, don’t wake your brother,’ Mrs Lane said, and the pleading tone wasn’t lost on Kim.

‘Ha, trust me, I ain’t gonna wake him. He isn’t even here.’

‘Of course he’s here,’ Mrs Lane snapped. ‘He went up just before me.’

He shrugged. ‘Have it your own way.’

The boy cracked eggs into a measuring jug as Mrs Lane rushed from the room.

‘Talking of which, did you have a nice night at the pub, Dad?’ Derren asked, looking at him pointedly.

Eric looked away first. ‘Fine, thank you.’

Mrs Lane stormed back into the room. ‘He’s not there, Eric,’ she said as though they were the only two people in the room.

‘Ooooh, where the fuck could the precious good son be at ten o’clock? Not doing anything naughty, is he? He’s twenty years old. He can look after himself. Or maybe he can’t,’ Derren said without turning.

‘Derren, shut up,’ Mrs Lane hissed.

The fact that Derren wasn’t picked up for either his attitude or language by either parent confirmed what Kim had suspected. They had given up.

As though remembering he was the man of the house, Eric turned her way. ‘Inspector, if we’ve answered your questions, will you please leave us in peace?’

She took one last look around the room before heading for the door. Oh, yes, they’d answered the questions she’d had and given her a whole set of new ones.

Why was Mrs Lane so concerned about her adult son being out of the house at 10 p.m.?

Why did Derren hate his parents so much, and what was with the tone in his voice when he asked his dad about being at the pub?

Why had she not caught a whiff of any alcohol from Eric Lane when he had barged past her, just aftershave?

Why couldn’t they wait to get her out of the house?

Kim still didn’t know if Eric was capable of the acts carried out by the Jester, but one thing she did know for sure: something in that family wasn’t right. And when she wasn’t chasing a damn clue, she was going to find out what it was.

FORTY-EIGHT

10.25 P.M.

Penn had been right to overrule her, Stacey admitted to herself when she was back at her desk. The nap hadn’t been long, but it had refreshed and revitalised her.

She was pleased to have had the privacy of the Bowl, unlike Frost, who was currently catching forty winks in her chair with an open mouth and an occasional soft snore.

Stacey was tempted to record the spectacle and send it to the boss, but her moral compass felt that might be a little too invasive of the reporter’s privacy.

Another soft snore escaped from Frost’s lips, causing both her and Penn to giggle.

As soon as she’d exited the Bowl, Penn had explained that they hadn’t been told the clue to the next location, only that they had to reach it by 3 a.m.

They both suspected that it was going to come to Frost’s phone, which Penn assured her hadn’t received any messages while Frost had been sleeping. All they could do now was wait.

Penn had tried to hand back the names to her, but she’d asked him to crack on while she got started on CCTV.

It wasn’t a job she enjoyed, but if she could find the nearest cameras to each of the locations, she could try and identify any vehicles that appeared on all of them. Time frames were going to be her enemy, but she had to start somewhere. The boss was right: following the clues wasn’t enough. They would only take them where the Jester wanted them to be. It was good old-fashioned police work that was going to help them catch him.

She noted down the locations of the boxes on a piece of paper.

Saltwells Nature Reserve.

Dudley Zoo car park.

Four Stones, Clent.

The nearest camera to the Saltwells was on the Dudley Road, approximately half a mile away. There were many other ways to reach the nature reserve, but she couldn’t allow herself to be daunted.

For the zoo car park, she had a camera on the Birmingham New Road a mile away. For the Four Stones in Clent, she had a traffic cam on the road into West Hagley. There might be others, but those were the closest.

Now she had to consider timescales.

Hiccup was abducted the previous night. There was no telling if the Jester had carried out the tortures straight away and lined up body parts or if they were being carried out in real time, put in the box and the box delivered to its location.

Same problem with the placement of the boxes. They could have been placed at the Saltwells, the zoo car park and at Clent during the night, before he’d even sent the email or the first clue, but that theory didn’t sit well in her stomach because none of the boxes had been wet following the earlier shower.

Everything so far had reflected both his planning and his need for control. Leaving the boxes hours in advance offered much greater opportunity for something to go wrong; for the box to be moved or found by someone else before them.

She decided to start her search two hours before the boxes had been found, either by them or Joanne. Their sicko would want to be there in plenty of time to lay the box before he decided it was a free-for-all.

She took a moment to appreciate the enormity of the task ahead, but it was one of those situations where she had nothing to lose and everything to gain.

Her hands were raised above the keyboard when what sounded like a car alarm blared from Frost’s computer.

The reporter and most of Halesowen were instantly awake.

A deep frown immediately formed on Frost’s face as she tapped a few keys. She remained silent as she appeared to be watching something.

‘Shit, shit, shit, shit, shit,’ she cursed. Then she looked up at them.

‘Your boss is not gonna like this one little bit.’

FORTY-NINE

10.50 P.M.

‘But what could have happened to drive such a wedge between them?’ Kim asked, after what felt like their tenth trip through a drive-thru. She vaguely remembered seeing this one earlier in the day.

The dynamics of the Lane family were still on her mind. Two members of the family turning up in their investigation had to be more than a coincidence.

‘Nine months ago, they were celebrating a birthday together, and Eric even tried to help her during Covid. What could have happened to ensure they’re now estranged, and Mommy Dearest is positively hostile?’

‘Is it important?’ Bryant asked, covering his yawn with his hand.

‘Sorry if I’m boring you, and I’m not gonna know if it’s important until I know what it is, am I?’ she snapped.

‘We could always go and ask Joanne.’

‘Jeez, Bryant, what kind of monster do you think I am? It’s almost eleven and she’s a single mother of two.’

‘Solid point, although not one that would normally⁠—’

He stopped speaking as her phone rang.

‘Hey, Stace, tell me you’re ringing with a location for Hiccup and a name and address for our sicko.’

And then we can all go home and get some sleep, she thought.

‘Sorry, boss, but I have news that’s not even remotely good.’

Kim’s heart sank. Thank goodness she’d already arranged for Barney to stay with his best pal Charlie.

‘Go on,’ Kim said, bracing herself.

‘It’s made the local TV news, boss.’

‘Shit,’ Kim said. ‘Okay, we’re on our way back.’

Bryant started the car as she ended the call.

Immediately, her phone started ringing again. She didn’t need to look to see who it was.

She put the phone in her pocket unanswered.

She was sure she’d be seeing him soon enough.

FIFTY

11.05 P.M.

Although the task was a bit of a ball-ache, Penn could understand why the boss had insisted that all names from the litter-pick had to be checked.

The first half of the list had proven to be a bust, but the second half had been a lot more interesting.

The first person of interest was thirty-eight-year-old Peter Harris, who lived around a mile from the nature reserve and had one charge of assault under his belt. On the face of it, a stretch inside appeared to have cured his thirst for violence, and he’d either been clean or not caught for almost ten years.

His second contender was forty-two-year-old Richard Johnston, who had been dealing drugs since his late teens and was litter-picking as part of his community service.

It wasn’t much, but at least it was something. If the Jester had been watching them from the beginning, there was a possibility he was one of these two men.

FIFTY-ONE

11.25 P.M.

‘Well, that couldn’t have been much worse, could it?’ Kim asked the room after watching the Central News clip.

They were the fun snippet at the end of the programme, which Kim was sure wouldn’t be the case if Frost had mentioned the body parts and the torture.

The short piece was very much along the lines of ‘trickster is fooling a team of CID officers with a wild goose chase’. Without all the facts, they were being made to look ridiculous, and worse, incompetent.

She’d managed to dodge two more calls from Woody, but she knew she’d have to face him sometime.

‘You know this is going to bring more attention, don’t you?’ Frost asked.

‘And here was me thinking it would convince our sicko to give himself up and end this madness,’ Kim said.

Having Frost in the office was really starting to wear on her now.

Frost ignored her sarcasm, probably expecting nothing less, and returned to tapping away on her laptop. The next article was due in half an hour.

‘Has anyone got anything useful to tell me?’ she asked, looking from Stacey to Penn.

‘More than a thousand vehicles pass by the camera close to the Saltwells Nature Reserve every hour,’ Stacey offered.

‘That’s your best shot at useful?’

The constable nodded and shrugged at the same time.

‘Penn?’

‘One of the litter-pickers has a record for assault.’

The litter-pick felt like a very long time ago.

‘Okay,’ she said, unsure that was any more useful than Stacey’s offering.

She was about to tell him as much when a figure appeared in the doorway. She had known it was only a matter of time.

‘A word, Stone,’ Woody said in a voice that brooked no argument.

She headed to the Bowl and left the door open for him to enter. She could see by his face that he would have preferred to have the conversation away from the team, but she was too exhausted to care.

He closed the door and stood in front of it.

‘Do explain to me why we are a laughing stock on the local news?’

She was tempted to warn him that there was a very real prospect of them being a laughing stock on the national news if they didn’t catch the Jester soon.

‘Slow news day?’ she offered.

‘Why are we still working this without a victim?’

‘Well, we have parts of a victim, sir. We have fingernails ripped out with God only knows what. We have teeth extracted with household pliers and a thumb chopped off with a cleaver. I suspect that if we don’t keep working the case, there’s going to be very little left of Hiccup to find.’

‘I didn’t know about the thumb,’ Woody said, frowning.

‘Haven’t had the chance to update you on that bit yet.’ Despite his trip out with his granddaughter she’d been sending him regular text updates throughout the day.

‘Definitely from the same person?’

‘We think so, and Mitch agrees.’

‘You have Forensics involved?’

‘He was happy to help,’ Kim said, choosing not to remember the scene in the pub.

‘What’s this guy’s motive?’ Woody asked, starting to think like an investigator and not a politician. She always liked him better that way.

‘We have no idea. He may just be seeking his fifteen minutes of fame, but he’s clever. He’s five steps ahead of us at every turn,’ Kim admitted.

‘You’re sure it’s about him and not us?’ Woody asked. ‘Does he have some kind of vendetta against the police? Is all this to make us look incompetent?’

She shrugged. She honestly didn’t know.

‘Any suspects?’

‘About fifty-seven of them last time I checked.’

Woody waited for the explanation.

‘We’re tracking pretty much every person we speak to. We have to. The Jester is completely anonymous. He could be anyone, so we can’t yet rule anyone out.’

He rubbed at his bald head. ‘I’m in a tricky position here, Stone. I’ve already had a call from the chief super.’

‘He watches Central News?’ she asked, somewhat facetiously.

‘His wife does and found it necessary to disturb his bridge game to inform him.’

‘Oh no,’ she said, bringing her hand to her mouth.

He ignored her. ‘He wants the investigation stopped immediately.’

‘You told him about the body parts and the missing homeless guy?’

Woody raised an eyebrow.

‘Bastard,’ she said, fully understanding those facts didn’t matter one bit to the chief super, whose only priority was not looking stupid.

Their sicko had certainly called it right in saying the first victim would not be missed. Would the chief super be as quick to shut her down if they were receiving body parts from one of his bridge buddies’ children? The death of a homeless man did not provoke sensational headlines. It might get an inch on page seven.

‘Sir, no offence, but even if I have to run this investigation out of my kitchen, I’m not giving up on Hiccup and neither is my team.’

His nod was not as frustrated as it should have been. He absolutely knew what her response would be.

‘It’s the articles that are killing us. Tell Frost to stop posting them.’

‘He’s specifically asked for them,’ she said, sneaking a glance at the clock. The next one was due in less than half an hour.

‘You’ve got to tell her, Stone,’ he said with finality.

‘Sir, with all due respect, there is no person in that room that hasn’t been giving everything to this case for the last sixteen hours. Frost is doing her level best to follow instructions and save lives while the rest of us try to fathom this guy’s motive and identity. We are all exhausted and⁠—’

‘If you’ve quite finished, I accept every one of those facts, and my point remains. Her updates are doing nothing to help solve the case but a great deal to attract attention and damage our credibility.’

She nodded her understanding. He was right. But Frost would make her own decisions.

He tapped his watch. ‘Regular updates throughout the night.’

‘Yes, sir,’ she said.

He reached for the door handle before turning. ‘And rest your team.’

‘Absolutely, sir,’ she said before he strode through the squad room.

She took a breath before following and waited until she heard the outer door close behind him.

‘Chief super ain’t happy, kids.’

The silence in the air was heavy with frustration and irritation.

But then at the same time, they all burst out laughing.

‘That’s hardly news,’ Stacey offered.

‘Yeah, is he ever?’ Penn asked.

‘Ah, poor chief super,’ Bryant commiserated.

‘He wants to shut us down as he’s a little bit embarrassed.’

Despite the exhaustion, three sets of eyes fixed on her. Even Frost was frowning.

‘Yeah, that’s what I thought you’d all say.’ She turned pointedly to Frost. ‘He also demanded that you post no more articles.’

Frost snorted. ‘If I’m not gonna listen to my own boss, I’m sure as hell not gonna listen to yours.’

FIFTY-TWO

MIDNIGHT

THE JESTER’S PROGRESS

By Tracy Frost

For those of you still following this story at midnight, I hope your bosses are going to be understanding when you call in late tomorrow. Judging by the number of comments on the last two articles, it looks like there are quite a few of you.

For this midnight update, I can confirm that the team has travelled to Four Stones at Clent and are currently working on the clue to the next puzzle.

It’s also worth noting that the case has now made the local news, which as you can imagine has thrilled the team trying to find the culprit.

The team working the case are tired, hungry, frustrated and getting criticism from every direction. However, that has not dampened their determination to find the person responsible for this game before someone gets hurt.

And to you, Jester, I know you’re reading these articles. You want to gobble up every piece of news with your name on it. You want to read the comments, positive or negative, because they’re about you. You need that feedback, that attention, but as clever as you are, you’re also a coward and a cheat who is governed by rules and control.

That need for validation is what is going to get you caught.

FIFTY-THREE

MONDAY, 2.15 A.M.

Kim took a look around the squad room before glancing back at the board. Following Woody’s departure, she had instructed everyone to get some rest.

Penn had headed down to the men’s locker room, claiming that one of the benches was reasonably comfortable.

Frost had simply sat back in her chair and had been snoozing in minutes.

Bryant had offered his car keys to Stacey so she could recline in his Astra estate while he pulled her chair over to support his feet. His hands were linked across his stomach.

For herself, she had turned off the light in the Bowl and tried to rest her eyes. She had drifted off for a while but had been woken by the image of a homeless man with no nails, no teeth and without a thumb. His cries of horror and agony would remain with her forever.

The image had driven her to turn the light back on and wait for Frost’s phone to ting that next clue. They had only forty-five minutes to find the box before the clue was shared widely.

She glanced out of the Bowl to see that although Bryant’s hands were still resting on his stomach, he was staring at the names on the board.

She stepped back into the office as Penn appeared. ‘Can’t sleep,’ he said with a shrug before taking his seat.

Before she could open her mouth, Stacey was in the doorway.

‘Not happening,’ the constable said, tossing the car keys back to Bryant.

Kim simply surveyed her team in silence for a moment before speaking.

‘Okay, guys, why haven’t we received the clue yet?’

Frost picked up her phone to check one more time and shook her head. Nothing new.

‘What are we missing?’ Kim asked, starting to feel uneasy. ‘However hard it’s been, everything so far has been achievable. He’s only communicated via text message to Frost, or from one clue leading to another and posting on the Seekers website.’

Stacey shook her head as she navigated around the site. ‘Nothing new in the last two hours.’

‘Not surprising as most sensible folks are in bed,’ Bryant groaned.

‘There has to be something,’ Kim insisted. ‘The clue has to be somewhere we can find it.’

‘Hang on,’ Stacey said as her eyes widened. She tapped a few keys and then scrolled her mouse. Her gaze was travelling down the screen at speed.

‘Shit,’ she said. ‘It’s right here on Frost’s midnight article. He communicated on the first, and I never checked the second. Sorry, my⁠—’

‘What does it say, Stace?’ Kim demanded.

Stacey frowned and stood with a marker pen. ‘I’ll write it on the board exactly as it is on his comment.’

Stacey stood, and Kim took her seat to read the clue, but her gaze travelled up the screen and fixed on the article. She felt her mouth fall open as she read.

‘Frost, what the hell?’

Frost shrugged, not even needing Kim to explain her annoyance. ‘He’s a knob, and I told him so.’

‘You really want to antagonise him?’ Kim snapped.

‘Just having a little fun.’

‘You do remember his threat about people getting hurt?’ Kim asked, shaking her head. Why the hell had the woman decided to openly challenge him?

‘He wouldn’t dare. Sorry, but we’ve been playing nice for hours now. We’re all running around doing his bidding. We’re all bloody shattered and still doing everything he wants. The bloke is a dick, and I’m sick of being told what to do.’

‘As are we, Frost, which is why we’re doing real police work in the background if you hadn’t noticed.’

‘Of course I’ve noticed, and you’ll see I’ve even referenced it in the article. I should get brownie points for that.’

‘How can you not see that you’re winding him up?’ Kim pushed.

At this point, they had no idea how dangerous their sicko was. They did know that Hiccup wasn’t particularly enjoying spending time with him. None of them knew what he was capable of doing.

‘I can see it, and I’m happy about it. I want him wound up,’ Frost replied. ‘I want him to lose some of his control. I want to flout his rules, and then I want him to fuck up so that we can catch him and perhaps save Hiccup’s life.’

Kim wasn’t sure which excuse to believe. Had she done it because she was tired of being ordered around, or was it a calculated move to ruffle his feathers? Either way, she was playing with fire, and Kim didn’t want any members of her team getting burned.

‘Next article goes through me before you publish it,’ she said.

‘Nope,’ Frost said, shaking her head.

‘Frost, if you⁠—’

‘Inspector, when are you gonna get the fact that I don’t work for you? His instruction to me was to publish articles on time, which I’ve done. There was no rule about what I had to write. I don’t tell you how to do your job, so please don’t tell me how to do mine,’ she said, turning back to her computer.

‘I swear, when this is over, I’m arresting you.’

‘For what?’ Frost asked without looking over.

‘I don’t know, flying a kite in public or shaking your rug in the street,’ Kim said, citing a couple of old medieval crimes still in force. ‘But I’ll get you on something,’ she said before turning her attention back to the board where Stacey had written the latest clue.

This one was a long line of letters.

Aconetoohottofillwitheyescream.

Realising her exchange with Frost was over, her colleagues all began to shout out.

‘Hot.’

‘Eye.’

‘Scream.’

‘Full.’

‘Cone.’

She read the words out loud.

‘“A cone too hot to fill with eye scream.”’

She launched herself from the chair, grabbed her jacket and headed out.

‘Come on, Bryant – I think I know where we need to go.’

FIFTY-FOUR

2.45 A.M.

The Red House Cone was a glass cone in Wordsley.

At twenty-seven metres high with a diameter of eighteen metres, it had been used for the production of glass by Stuart Crystal until the 1930s. As one of only four such structures in the country, this one had been taken over by Dudley Council and was maintained as a museum.

‘Are you kidding me?’ Kim said as Bryant pulled up to the kerb.

‘Bloody hell, why aren’t these people asleep?’ he asked, surveying the groups that were milling around the area.

Kim couldn’t remember now how many people were following and commenting on Frost’s articles, but clearly at least thirty of them had seen and worked out the clue before they had.

‘Call for some uniforms,’ Kim instructed as she got out the car.

‘Move out the way, folks,’ she called out.

She ignored the comments being thrown at her as she attempted to shepherd them all into one group.

‘Well, you took your bloody time.’

‘We’ve been waiting ages.’

‘We’ve already searched for the box.’

‘There’s nothing here.’

‘Move along,’ she said with her arms open wide, taking care not to touch anyone. The last thing she needed was a police brutality complaint.

‘Aww, come on. We want to see what the next clue is.’

She stopped moving when they were about a hundred feet away from the main gates.

‘Right, first of all, I’m not going to tell you anything about the next clue. Second, some of my colleagues are on their way to start taking names, so you might as well go home. Third, anyone who chooses to stay and crosses this invisible line right here where I’m standing will be arrested.’

‘You can’t arrest us for being on the pavement.’

Kim had no idea who had called that out so she spoke to the group as a whole. ‘That is true, but as I’ve now issued an instruction to stay back, anyone choosing to ignore that instruction will be arrested for obstruction.’

She waited for any more call-outs before heading back to the main gates. Could their sicko do anything more to make their life harder?

‘Are you sure we’re in the right place, guv?’ Bryant said, facing the crowd.

‘I think our little rentamob over there confirms it,’ she said, nodding towards the onlookers.

As yet, no one had stepped over the imaginary line. They might be curious about what was going on, but none of them wanted to spend the rest of the night in a police cell.

‘Know of any other iconic cones in the area?’ she asked, taking a look around.

‘But this place must have plenty of CCTV. I don’t think he’d risk it.’

‘Good point,’ she admitted. Located within the one-acre site were ten small businesses including glass artists, pottery, jewellers, a gift shop and a coffee house. The Jester wouldn’t have risked being caught on any of those cameras.

‘The box must be outside somewhere.’

They moved along the footpath in different directions using their phone torches to illuminate the ground, despite being told by the crowd there was no box to find.

‘Guv, there’s nothing,’ Bryant said as they met back at the metal gates.

‘I know it’s here,’ she insisted. ‘I know I’m right.’

‘Yeah but there was that one time back in⁠—’

‘Shush. Let me think this through.’

She stood at the gates, peering in. She was missing something, and the hope she’d had when they’d unravelled the clue was slipping away from her. It was now one minute after three o’clock.

Her phone rang. ‘Go ahead, Stace,’ she said, putting it on loudspeaker.

‘He’s posted the clue on Seekers, only he’s spelled everything correctly and spaced out the words.’

‘Damn it,’ Kim said. That was sure to bring even more people to the scene. ‘How many people are watching?’

‘Almost a thousand now.’

‘Jesus, don’t these people need sleep?’

‘Boss, some are already on their way.’

Kim swore again before ending the call. She was now even more against the clock than she’d thought.

‘Think, think, think,’ she told herself. How could he get a box into this location without being seen by the cameras?

Her gaze passed over every detail of what she could see. And then her torch hit on the object closest to the gate.

‘I know where it is,’ she said, raising her foot to begin climbing the gate.

‘Whoa, easy tiger. You’ve got quite the audience, and you’re gonna set off an alarm, and then we’ll be in a whole new heap of trouble.’

Despite the urgency, she couldn’t help but note that though it was she who was about to commit a criminal offence, by the use of the word ‘we’, Bryant had shown he’d happily share the shit that came their way. Her audience could join the queue of people waiting to lodge a complaint about her. Or they might just enjoy the show.

‘It’s in that bin. I know it is. The proximity of it to the gate means he could slip the box in there as he was passing and remain undetected by CCTV.’

If they were lucky, the cameras might have caught part of a forearm.

‘Guv, listen to⁠—’

‘You wanna wait until they open up tomorrow morning?’ she asked, raising her other foot and beginning her climb over the gate.

FIFTY-FIVE

3.15 A.M.

Penn couldn’t help feeling they were missing something.

All of them were running off in different directions, following the leads. They were combing CCTV in the hope that they saw something that jumped out. They were following up the numerous names they were collecting as they went. They were examining the evidence, working out clues, but it was all being done at surface level because there was just too much to go through.

He tapped his fingers on the desk wondering what was the most valuable thing they had.

The body parts were with Mitch, but all that would tell them was the identity of the victim, and they were pretty sure they knew that anyway.

Having so many names was a novelty for them, but there were so many that they could only manage cursory background checks.

‘Stace, you got the audio and video files?’ he asked.

‘One sec and I’ll send them over.’

They had three recordings. Two different items of media that had been produced in real time.

Wasn’t his time best spent trying to see if there was anything there they’d missed?

‘Sent,’ Stacey said without looking up.

He took a moment to update the equaliser he had on his computer. He doubted his was as good as they had over at the lab in Birmingham, but he had been blessed with exceptional hearing and superior-quality headphones.

He took a breath before hooking himself up. No way this was going to be pleasant, but he owed it to Hiccup to give it his best shot.

His jaw tensed as the sound of Hiccup’s cries filled his ears. For a second, he regretted the clarity and volume he could achieve as he listened to both recordings.

Penn closed his eyes, knowing that the man was having his nails and teeth painfully extracted.

Listening through the headphones gave him a deeper intimacy than what he would have experienced with the naked ear. It was like listening to music and hearing every inflection of the vocals, getting a deeper connection, a better sense of every emotion.

In Hiccup’s cries, he heard it all: the fear, the pain, the desperation, every cry hitting a different note. It reminded him of a child crying for its mother, needing her, needing someone to make it stop.

No matter what sounds he brought forward and enhanced, there was nothing to give him a clue. Despite the tools he’d used, there was no pause in the cries, so he wasn’t able to isolate anything behind them.

Penn sat back in his chair. Having lived through every second of pain with Hiccup, he’d gained nothing.

He clicked on the other file, the one that he’d neither seen nor heard himself but knew from Stacey what it contained.

He readied himself for the sight and the anger as the cleaver came down and severed the thumb.

The cries were different this time. In the first recordings, there had been fear but also the hope that his screams could affect the outcome. In this one, there was no such hope, Penn thought as he once again listened with his eyes closed.

What he hadn’t noticed the first time was that there was a two-to-three-second pause in between Hiccup’s cries.

Penn opened his eyes and watched it again.

The pause came as the cleaver was raised high in the air above the thumb. Hiccup must have been so terrified of the prospect of the blade that it had rendered him too dry to even cry out.

Penn isolated the three seconds and repeated the process he’d already used.

He listened carefully. And then he heard an unknown sound in the background.

FIFTY-SIX

3.30 A.M.

‘Got it,’ Kim called out, pulling the box from around a third of the way down the bin.

She didn’t even want to think about what she’d rifled through to get it.

Thank God for the evidence gloves Bryant seemed to have in every item of clothing. It had saved her bare skin but not so much the sleeve of her leather jacket. She was sure Bryant had some wet wipes somewhere in the car.

Hearing no response from her colleague, she called out again.

‘Oi, I said I’ve got the box.’

‘Yeah, guv, I’m afraid you’ve got a bit more than that.’

His torch was illuminating a group of around fifty people and only two uniforms.

Between the two uniforms was a woman holding a set of keys.

Bryant had warned her that she’d probably activate some kind of alarm, and the two uniforms had been unable to control the massing crowd, who had moved to get a closer look.

Bryant had a look of mild amusement on his face.

‘Someone wanna let me out?’

She wasn’t going to scale the fence again when there was a perfectly good set of keys on the other side.

The woman looked to the constables for confirmation. Kim was a detective inspector, but there was no authority like a uniform.

The officer nodded, and the keyholder released her.

‘Well, thanks for coming, but I’m good now,’ she said, heading towards the car.

‘And what might you have there, Inspector?’ the male uniform asked.

‘Just something I threw away earlier that I realised⁠—’

Kim stopped speaking as she took a look up the road. Even more people were heading their way.

The constable followed her gaze and, slow as it was, the realisation dawned.

‘Hang on, this is something to do with that treasure hunt on the news,’ he said, looking to the box. ‘Come on then – open it.’

The crowd was heading their way at speed, their eyes alight with interest and expectation, and Kim realised just how entertaining this was to people who didn’t have all the details.

And she was sick of it. A man’s life was at stake.

‘This is no game, Officer, so wipe that smile off your face.’

Her boss would love reading the incident report on this.

She turned to the keyholder. ‘I didn’t damage anything while retrieving the box, but if you want to make a complaint, feel free,’ she said, heading towards the car.

Yep, Woody would love that too.

She was almost at the car when a blue Toyota sped into the space behind Bryant’s Astra.

A man in his late thirties jumped out almost before the car stopped moving. He wore jeans, sweatshirt and baseball cap.

‘You the team working the wild goose chase?’ he asked with the animation and manners that only came with one breed of professional.

He was a journalist, most likely from one of the neighbouring boroughs’ daily sheet.

She chose to ignore his question and opened the car door.

‘How’d you get it, Inspector?’ he asked, looking to the box in her hand.

‘Not your business,’ she said, placing the box on the passenger seat.

He frowned. ‘So you stole it?’

‘Excuse me,’ she said, fixing him with a hard glare.

‘Police disregarding rules again. Viewers are going to love that.’

‘Viewers?’ she asked as her blood ran cold.

‘Yeah, I’m Steve Ashworth, a correspondent for Sunrise News.’

‘Sunrise are gonna run it?’ Kim asked of the newest news streaming channel.

‘Yeah, if I can make it juicy enough. And I think you’ve just given me exactly what I need.’

Of everything that had happened, she was sure Woody was gonna love that news the best.

FIFTY-SEVEN

3.45 A.M.

I chose the moment a car sped up to the pavement to make good my escape. No one even glanced my way as I headed down a back street away from the scene.

They were later than I expected. The clue was easy enough. Yes, I changed where I posted it, but they should have been watching every channel of communication.

Are they tired, listless, worn down and devoid of hope? I hope not. The rest of the game will be boring if they merely limp from clue to clue. I’m tired too but no less enthusiastic. That’s why I came here in the middle of the night. To watch the fruits of my labour.

The show was worth waiting for, and DI Stone is a worthy opponent. She assessed the situation quickly and had no hesitation in climbing over the gate to retrieve the box.

It was fun watching her shepherd the crowds away. She was one woman with one pair of arms, but there was a natural authority about her that brooked no argument from the onlookers. All of whom were having a wonderful time. Because of me.

It was good to get away for a while. The whimpering from Hiccup has been starting to annoy me. Either way, it isn’t going to be my problem for much longer.

It wasn’t difficult to abduct him, and he could have been any one of that community. Who knew that all it took was a soft voice and the promise of a hot meal and shelter to persuade a grown man to follow you anywhere? It was almost like being on the streets robbed him of his common sense and made him as vulnerable and trusting as a child.

They’ll know by now who he is. I gave them enough clues. They’ll know he’s expendable. They’ll know he won’t be missed by anyone, and the gifts they’ve been receiving in the boxes should demonstrate how far I’m willing to go. That I’m serious. That I’m in charge of this whole game and they have no choice but to do as I say. Right now, I am on everyone’s mind. They’re all thinking about me. I am one person taking everyone’s attention, and I’m winning.

I think she knows that. My research has confirmed that she is a formidable opponent, and when I win against her, it will be worth it.

As much as I’d have loved to continue to watch her chasing me, I have much left to prepare.

It’s such a shame they don’t realise that if they’re late for the next one, their lives will never be the same again.

FIFTY-EIGHT

4 A.M.

Penn listened patiently as Stacey read the next clue, which had been called in by the boss.

‘“The rails around the aged mound turn crimson one hour before sunrise. Find my next by 6 a.m. or…”’

‘Jeez, they’re getting harder,’ Penn observed. ‘And we’re off schedule. We haven’t got long to find the next… but I really think I’m onto something with this recording.’

Stacey came around the desk. ‘Let me listen.’

He passed her the headphones and played the clip.

‘I can hear it, but I don’t know what it is,’ she said. ‘It’s like two boom-boom noises in quick succession.’

Exactly what he’d thought.

‘Boom-boom?’ Frost asked, raising an eyebrow. ‘Is that a technical term?’

It was the first time she’d spoken in hours, and he’d almost forgot she was there.

‘I have no other way to describe it,’ Stacey said.

‘You could always let me have a listen,’ Frost said, shrugging.

Penn wasn’t sure what a defence lawyer would make of that, but he really had no choice. Neither he nor Stacey had a clue what the sound was.

He indicated for her to wheel across and then passed her the headphones.

She closed her eyes as she listened to the short clip.

‘Again,’ she said without opening them.

He did so.

He pressed Play a further four times on her instruction.

He was about to tell her to move when she took the headphones off.

‘I know what it is,’ she said with the smug expression they’d only ever heard about.

They waited.

‘Clay pigeon shooting.’

The second she said it, Penn knew she was right. Even Stacey was face-palming a shaking head.

‘Stuff’s always easy if you know the answer,’ Frost said, wheeling back to the spare desk.

Penn looked to Stacey. This recording was from the third box, which had been found at Clent around nine o’clock. ‘Our guy had to get the box there in plenty of time not to get caught. I’m thinking he must have chopped the thumb off sometime in the afternoon.’

Stacey began tapping on her computer.

Penn already knew she’d be asking Google for clay pigeon shooting locations in the Black Country.

‘Lichfield, Lea Marston, Coventry, Warwick, Nuneaton.’

‘All too far,’ Penn said. ‘Timing is everything to him. He needs a solid timeline with no chance of delays.’

‘He could be paying someone else to do it.’

Penn shook his head. ‘Too many people involved. If he was doing that, we’d be covering even more mileage than we are because he could get the boxes dropped further afield. Our guy likes to be in control. The more people who are involved, the more chance there is of something going wrong. There has to be a reason we’re in this local radius.’

‘Wolverhampton?’ Stacey asked.

‘Maybe,’ he said, although he was still doubtful. The core of the activity was more local.

‘No events yesterday anyway,’ Stacey said as her gaze continued to interrogate the Google results.

‘Wait a minute. What about Dunsley?’

‘That might work,’ Penn said as his insides reacted.

Although officially in the county of Staffordshire, Dunsley was only a few miles from some of the locations the boss had already visited. It was semi-rural with a lot of space between properties.

He looked up to see Stacey grinning at him.

‘What?’

‘Dunsley Hall had a private party clay pigeon shooting this afternoon between the hours of 2 p.m. and 5 p.m. Photos have been posted in their gallery.’

‘You’re welcome,’ Frost said without looking up.

‘We’re not there yet,’ Penn said, wheeling his chair around to Stacey’s desk. ‘Can you get an aerial shot of Dunsley Hall?’

It appeared on the screen, and Penn could instantly see the acreage around the property.

To the north was the village of Stourton. To the east was Severn Trent Green Power Waste Facility. South was completely rural for miles. West was the village of Dunsley.

He rubbed at his forehead. ‘Jeez, Stace. There are a lot of properties in those villages.’

‘Yeah, and Hiccup can’t be in any of them. Did you hear those screams? If there were neighbours, we’d know about it. There was no gag, so our guy knew he could do what he wanted without fear of detection.’ Stacey tapped at the keyboard furiously. ‘It’s all about the numbers, Penn.’

He watched in awe as she talked while tapping.

‘Google says that the shotguns used for clay pigeon shooting register an average of one hundred and fifty-three decibels, which can be heard up to two miles away.’ She paused for a minute. ‘Assuming Hiccup is inside a building with doors and windows shut, we can assume it’s much closer given that we could hear it on a recording.’

‘Agreed,’ Penn said, moving closer.

‘It also says here that the sound can be lessened by direction of shot, environment, weather, cloud coverage and humidity.’ She sat back. ‘Given all those variables and the volume of the shots on the tape, I don’t see how he could be more than a mile away.’

‘Agreed,’ Penn repeated.

‘Okay, so if I do this,’ Stacey said, using the scale measurement to draw a perimeter line of one mile around the location of the shoot, ‘we should be able to find Hiccup within there somewhere.’

With what Stacey had just done, he could look individually at the properties and either dismiss or consider them as potential locations.

‘Stace…’

‘I know, but I’m gay and you’re attached, so it could never work.’

‘Fair enough,’ he said, wheeling himself back to his own desk.

‘Sent you the link.’

He blew her a kiss in response before looking more closely at the buildings within the search area.

He was hopeful that if he looked closely enough, he’d see an abandoned building or unused barn at a distance from every other property. He zoomed in until the image blurred but found nothing that matched what he was looking for. There were no outbuildings isolated enough for their sicko to have free rein and inflict the torture that he had.

The only buildings in the area were rural properties encircled by farmland.

What was he missing?

He didn’t doubt Stacey’s logic in defining the search area, but all he had were occupied homes.

‘Hang on a minute,’ he said and wasn’t surprised when neither Stacey nor Frost responded.

He opened a new tab on his computer and googled Rightmove.

He entered a search for properties for sale within a one-mile radius of Dunsley Hall.

There were four properties. Two were in the village of Dunsley so were quickly ruled out.

The third was a converted barn. He read the description, but it didn’t match his hunch.

The fourth property was an old farmhouse with a dated interior and a couple of run-down outbuildings.

He scoured the details with a growing excitement.

Words jumped out at him as though in capital letters.

Quick sale due to bereavement, vacant possession.

His head snapped up. ‘Stace, I think I know where Hiccup is.’

FIFTY-NINE

4.30 A.M.

‘Nope, don’t believe it,’ Bryant said, shaking his head.

Kim had to admit she was also dubious.

‘Got anywhere better to be at four thirty in the morning?’

‘Don’t tempt me to answer that one. Seriously, though, are you telling me that between them, Penn and Stacey have actually been able to pinpoint the property where Hiccup is being held?’

‘Apparently Frost had a hand in it as well,’ Kim said.

‘That doesn’t add to my confidence,’ he muttered as she turned into a narrow lane off the main A449.

Kim was happy to talk about anything except what had been in that box.

There had been no Dictaphone and no video tape, but Kim hadn’t needed them to get the picture of the further torture that Hiccup had endured.

She had unfolded a piece of cloth to reveal a slice of skin measuring approximately two inches by three inches showing a tattoo of a bird. Penn had made a quick call to Jack the custody sergeant to confirm that Hiccup did indeed have a tattoo of a bird on his left arm. Their guy wanted to be sure they knew the identify of his victim, and short of sending his name, he’d given them all the tools to find out.

The thought of tools reminded her of the way the skin had been removed from the poor man’s body. The serration marks all around it indicated it had been crudely removed with an electric carving knife. She suspected that Mitch would confirm their suspicion later in the day.

She couldn’t even imagine Hiccup’s fear seeing their sicko approaching with such a tool. The man had wanted nothing more than a warm meal and a bed for the night.

She pulled her thoughts away from him as the lane they were travelling turned into a dirt track with a high line of grass running along the centre.

Kim held on to the roof handle and braced herself for the potholes illuminated by Bryant’s high beam.

The hedges on both sides of the road were overgrown and brushing the car.

By the time they reached the property, Kim was aware that there had been no turn-off. This was the only property on the lane, and their sicko would have met no one as he came and went.

The high beam rested on the property, which looked tired and worn. The once-white paint was almost a dirty grey and peeling in several places. A wooden arch above the door was in a state of disrepair, and plant pots that had once been full of flowers held only weeds and moss.

They got out of the car and used their torches to continue looking.

‘Not sure what Phil and Kirstie would have to say about the kerb appeal of this one,’ Bryant quipped.

Looking around, she had to agree. Piles of bin bags were stacked against the wall. The small lawn was overgrown, and weeds had invaded every foot of ground she could see. The council bins had been stuffed with so much rubbish their lids were open.

The people selling the property had obviously decided that no amount of tidying up was going to get them a better price, so they’d done nothing to it since the demise of the occupant, meaning that this neglected property got barely any visitors at all.

‘Even in the dark, I know what you’re thinking. It’s still a bloody long shot, but I’ll go round back anyway.’

He was right, she admitted, before trying the front door. It was locked, and a fraction of her hope that they were in the right place diminished.

She headed over to a long outbuilding that might once have been a stable, but the doors had all been replaced with heavy, full-length wooden doors with latch openings. Converted for storage, Kim thought, opening the first of five doors.

This one was full of old machinery, rusted and broken lawnmowers and strimmers.

She opened the second, which was full of old bags of grain and seed that must have been for chickens.

The third was stacked high with old furniture the previous owners must have replaced over the years but never disposed of. She heard the unmistakeable sound of scurrying, prompting her to close the door quickly just as Bryant reappeared from around the back of the house.

‘Bloody death trap back there. I’ve seen tidier scrapyards,’ he moaned. ‘No doors or windows open that I can see.’

‘Okay, stop whingeing and open door number five.’

They opened the last two doors at the same time.

She didn’t even have time to assess what was behind her own door before Bryant spoke.

‘Err… guv.’

Those words alone were enough to chill her blood.

She moved to stand beside him and followed his torchlight into the space.

She took out her phone. It was time to make herself popular again.

SIXTY

5 A.M.

‘Thanks for coming, Mitch,’ she said as the techie got out of his van.

‘I didn’t disturb anyone. I was in the spare room anyway.’

‘Why’s that?’ she asked innocently.

He offered her a glare before switching to work mode. ‘So, what am I looking at?’

‘We were hoping you could tell us that,’ Kim said.

Although there was no body in the space, the amount of blood on both the floor and the table she recognised from the video was troubling.

‘It’s a lot,’ Mitch said, scratching his beard.

She held her breath.

‘But not enough, in my opinion. Step aside,’ he instructed.

They did as he asked while he took another look.

‘Stand there,’ he said to Kim, pointing at a spot a couple of metres away. ‘And you there,’ he said to Bryant. ‘Shine everything you have at the ground,’ he said.

Kim pointed her phone torch, and Bryant pointed both his phone and his pocket torch.

Mitch then produced a torch that put them both to shame. All the focussed light brought the ground alive. Despite the weeds and filth, Kim was sure she could have spotted a decent-sized needle.

‘There we go,’ Mitch said, taking a couple of steps forward. ‘Blood spots. I’d say your guy parked here and moved your victim into a vehicle. At that point, he was still alive.’

‘Thank God for⁠—’

‘Don’t celebrate too soon. That level of blood loss and the fact he was still bleeding doesn’t bode well for the poor fellow. If he’s still alive, without medical help, he’s not going to stay like that for very long.’

Why, why, why did their sicko still want Hiccup alive? Had the poor soul not suffered enough?

What the hell did he have planned for him next?

SIXTY-ONE

5.45 A.M.

‘Is the boss bringing the box back?’ Penn asked.

Stacey raised an eyebrow. ‘You really that desperate to see a piece of sliced-off skin?’

They both shuddered at the same time.

The boss had said it had been removed using a knife with some kind of serrated edge, and Stacey knew she would never cut bread again without thinking of it.

‘Read it out again, Penn,’ she said.

She closed her eyes as he said the words.

‘“The rails around the aged mound turn crimson one hour before sunrise. Find my next by 6 a.m. or…”’

‘What rails, what’s an aged mound and what the hell has sunrise got to do with it?’ she asked.

‘What if the crimson relates to blood?’ Penn asked.

‘Makes sense,’ Stacey said, opening her eyes. ‘So, is he saying that Hiccup’s blood will be spilled one hour before sunrise?’

‘Which is in precisely forty-five minutes,’ Penn offered.

Stacey cursed her foggy brain. It felt like her thoughts were dripping with treacle.

‘Rails, rails, rails at six o clock,’ Stacey said as though repeating the words would set them free.

‘Aged mound,’ Penn said, pacing the floor. ‘What’s an aged mound?’

He stopped walking. ‘Old Hill, train station, rails.’

Stacey’s heart caught in her throat.

He was going to tie Hiccup to the rails.

She reached for the phone.

She was wide awake now.

SIXTY-TWO

5.52 A.M.

Bryant approached the train station just as the roads around them were beginning to come alive.

Monday morning. The time Kim should have been out walking Barney before heading to the station. Instead, her body felt she was already three days into the working week.

She pushed the fatigue aside and focussed. Funny how you always knew what the clue meant when you’d solved it. Now the cryptic words seemed easy to decipher, and she wondered how it had taken them all so long to get it. Not that any of them was working with a clear head. Although her own head had cleared remarkably once she’d been given a new possible location for Hiccup.

Penn had advised her that he had called the train line and stopped the trains coming through until further notice. Luckily, they had agreed to his request easily.

She had also called the duty sergeant at the station, requesting as many uniforms as he could send.

He’d explained that it was shift changeover time, so she’d told him to send them all. Not a popular request, and one which she was sure would travel all the way back to Woody, but the more resources, the better.

They might not have the threat of the train coming through, but who knew how long Hiccup could last with the volume of blood he’d lost.

Bryant pulled up at the station as a fourth squad car entered the car park, which was now alive with high-vis jackets.

She was pleased to see Inspector Plant heading towards her.

‘I was just coming on so thought I’d take over. What do you need?’

Kim felt instant gratitude towards the white-haired, tanned officer. Throughout the night, it had felt like she and her team were totally alone in trying to save this man’s life. Finally, they had some support.

‘You know what’s going on?’

‘Oh yeah, through the news, and the other news, if you know what I mean.’

She knew he was referring to the various WhatsApp groups set up by colleagues. She could imagine that the merry little dance they were being led was the talk of most of them. And the butt of a great many jokes.

‘We think our guy has been tied to the tracks. We don’t know how far along or in which direction.’

‘Got it. Four teams. Two along each carriageway, one going east, one going west?’

She nodded. ‘We’ll take this side going east. Tell your guys to look out for any blood trails.’

He nodded his understanding as she and Bryant headed into the station.

Old Hill station sat on the Birmingham to Stourbridge line and had opened in 1866. From what Penn had told her, trains came through every thirty minutes.

Checking her watch, she thanked God that the 6.02 wasn’t coming through. It was now two minutes to six, but that didn’t make their search any less urgent.

‘Nothing yet,’ Bryant said as they ran out of platform and were moving along an overgrown grassy verge.

Although the track curved out of sight, they could see a good quarter mile ahead.

She heard officers sprinting across the footbridge to search the line on the opposite side.

Kim knew they had a fifty-fifty chance with the teams working in the opposite direction.

She just hoped that one of them spotted something soon.

It was as they rounded the bend, Kim saw something in the distance. A speck, maybe three quarters of a mile away.

The officers on the other side of the tracks saw it too.

They all started running at the same time.

As she ran, Kim didn’t take her eyes from the speck that was growing in size with every step she took.

What had looked like a bag of rubbish was taking on more form.

Two thousand feet.

It was a person.

Eighteen hundred feet.

It was a man.

Fifteen hundred feet.

It was Hiccup.

Her breath was rasping in her chest. She had left Bryant and the other officers in her wake, but she wasn’t slowing for anyone.

One thousand feet.

Hiccup was moving.

At seven hundred feet, she heard the unmistakeable sound of a train thundering towards them.

A split second later, the train came into view.

She started waving her hands in the air, knowing it was fruitless.

The sound of the brakes being applied filled the air. She knew it took around forty-five seconds to stop the train, but she continued running anyway.

She was three hundred feet away when what was left of Hiccup was splattered across the track.

SIXTY-THREE

6.15 A.M.

‘Fuck this,’ Frost said, packing up her things.

‘You can’t go,’ Stacey protested.

‘You’re gonna have to lock me in a cell to stop me.’

Stacey briefly wondered if the boss would view that as a viable option. Although she probably wasn’t all that fussed about Frost after seeing Hiccup dismembered by a speeding train.

An ashen Penn was currently on the phone trying to establish how the hell Hiccup had been killed by a train that wasn’t supposed to be running.

‘But you’re the contact,’ Stacey said.

‘He hasn’t messaged me in hours. I was just the tool to get to you. He knows who’s running the investigation.’

‘But the articles. You’ve already missed the six o’clock one, and you know he wants regular updates.’

‘Then he’s just gonna have to whistle. I’ve done everything he asked; I’ve danced to his tune; I’ve probably lost my job, and it was all for nothing. A man still died, and I’m gonna be spending a long time wondering what I could have done to save his life. I’m not built for this shit.’

Stacey completely understood. The man they had been working around the clock to save was dead. A man they had never met had been killed because they had failed him. They hadn’t solved the clues early enough, or they hadn’t reached the locations on time. Every one of them felt responsible, and she guessed that’s where Frost’s frustration stemmed from.

‘None of us are built for this shit,’ she snapped. ‘You think we feel any different? We feel it every time we have a victim. We live with the rage and the grief and the sadness and the unjustness of it all. We take a breath and crack on in the hope we can prevent anyone else from getting hurt. We don’t run away.’

Frost paused at the door. ‘Yeah, the difference is you get paid for it.’

Stacey opened her mouth to argue further, but Frost was already gone.

She made a quick call to Jack on the front desk to make sure the insufferable woman was let out.

She replaced the receiver at the same time as Penn put down his.

His eyes were wide.

‘You’re never gonna believe what I’ve just been told.’

SIXTY-FOUR

6.40 A.M.

‘We’re fucking nowhere, Bryant,’ Kim snapped.

Her colleague had dared to suggest they were going to find the bastard who had done this.

‘He’s one step ahead of us at every turn. He knows what we’re going to do and sets us up to fail every time. There’s no winning this game.’

Bryant backed off, knowing that her rage came from her inability to prevent what she’d just seen.

She’d been the closest to Hiccup when the train had hit, and she already knew the image would never leave her mind.

Minutes, not even a lot of them, and she would have had him away from danger.

‘You couldn’t have gone any faster if you’d known that train was coming, guv,’ Bryant offered before moving away from her.

That was something she’d never know for sure.

And the train, the damn train. Penn had called with the news that the train line had received a text message warning of a prank call that would ask to stop a train. They had assumed Penn’s call to be that prank and had ignored it. Lives had changed forever due to that decision.

The passengers had all been removed from the train by Inspector Plant and his team, and the driver was being treated by paramedics for shock. Despite the horror of his ordeal, her sympathy was in short supply for anyone other than the man on the tracks, who had never stood a chance.

‘Oh fucking splendid,’ she whispered to herself as Keats approached.

He took one look at her face and just nodded in her direction.

‘I’ll let you know if I find anything that will help,’ he said as he passed.

‘Thank you,’ she said, satisfied that Hiccup would be in safe hands.

One thing she’d always appreciated about the pathologist was that he knew when to leave her alone. As did her colleague, who walked silently beside her.

What neither of them could sense was the rage building inside her. Not only because a poor, defenceless man had been treated like a piece of meat, his life taken without a thought of its value. Hiccup had been disposable to their killer, a tool used to play the game. That thought alone sickened her to the core.

On top of that was the anger that no action was their own. Everything was being orchestrated, and they were just following his orders. He always knew exactly what they were going to do.

Kim was unsure if she’d ever had a case that had frustrated her more.

SIXTY-FIVE

6.50 A.M.

I make my way back to the van hidden behind a public house and not visible from the road.

I saw her run in, and I watched her slope out, and I heard her scream somewhere in between.

I shake my head. They have no one to blame but themselves. They had everything they needed, but I bet they tried to cheat. It’s not on me. It’s on them. I didn’t kill him. They did.

They know the rules, and by now they should know how seriously I take them. I know they would have tried to stop the train, and that’s cheating. If they’d got there in time, they would have saved him.

I am surprised at the tinge of sadness I feel at Hiccup’s passing. We spent time together, and apart from the screaming and howling, I’ll miss him. He didn’t deserve to die, and he wouldn’t have if that team had their act together.

I take out my phone in anticipation. I have a Google alert for the Jester. My hand freezes. No notifications. I refresh. Still nothing.

Where is the article? It’s ten to seven. Where is the damn article?

I fire off a text before starting the car. I have to leave. Lightness is pinching at the sky, and I need the cover of darkness for the next part of the plan. But I can’t move until I have an answer.

The response is immediate. It is short. Two words. Not very nice words.

I reply demanding she write the article.

She replies with the same two words.

Despite my rising anger, I must continue.

She will have to wait, but she will learn that there are consequences. There are rules, and she has broken the most important one.

I put aside my dismay. This is the part I’ve been waiting for.

If the team thought they were under pressure before, they’re about to feel a whole lot worse.

Alas, this will be my last opportunity to observe proceedings before the finale. There is much planning and work to be done.

It’s about to get exciting.

It’s time for the next. And this one will certainly be missed.

SIXTY-SIX

7 A.M.

‘Good to see everyone looking rested and refreshed after the weekend,’ Kim said, trying to lighten the mood in the squad room even though her own mood perfectly matched theirs.

She didn’t even get a polite chuckle for her efforts.

She took a breath. ‘We did our best, folks. We did everything we could to save his life.’

Although they all nodded, she knew they all felt that it had been for nothing.

She had sympathy for her team. To a point.

‘You wanna do a Frost and bail?’ she asked, opening her hands.

Initially, she’d been annoyed at the reporter’s departure, but on balance, it had placed extra strain on her team having her looking over their shoulders. She had been the middleman, but their killer knew who was running the investigation, and Kim was sure he’d find a way to contact her if he wanted to. Even without Frost, the rules of the game were clear. They found the boxes and followed the clues.

Except there were no more boxes and no more clues. There had been neither at the train station. Not finding a box was more worrying to her than finding one. It wasn’t over – she knew that. What she didn’t know, and what concerned her the most, was what was coming next. Whatever it was, she needed her team on board and ready for action.

‘So, anybody wanna bail?’ she prompted.

Everyone shook their heads.

‘Okay, then let’s get to it and catch this bastard.’

All three of them sat up straighter.

‘Right, change of focus. We’ve been dancing to his tune for the last twenty-four hours, and we have to continue to follow the clues, but we’ve got to be more proactive in finding out who this guy is. We’ve got to run this case our way. We know something else is coming, but what are your thoughts on our sicko? Who are we looking for?’

‘I know Penn disagrees, but I still don’t think our guy is a seasoned killer,’ Stacey said.

‘How can you say that after what he did to Hiccup?’ Penn asked.

‘If this was something he had a compulsion to do, then we’d have heard of this guy a long time ago. No other force has dealt with anything like it, so he’s not travelling. There’s a reason why he’s doing it now.’

Penn shook his head. ‘Don’t buy it.’

‘Okay, what about traits?’ Kim asked.

‘Tidy, organised, methodical,’ Bryant offered. ‘You couldn’t pull this off without an incredibly logical mind. There are the clues to write, the timings, the placement of the boxes, posting the clues, keeping everything in order. It’s a lot of work.’

‘What about the rules?’

‘He takes them seriously,’ Penn answered. ‘But he’s happy to break them himself. He gave us no chance to save Hiccup on the train line. He changed the rules of the game.’

‘But he didn’t really, did he?’ Stacey asked. ‘By making that call, he prevented us from getting extra time to find Hiccup. If you want to tip it on its head, we broke the rules by trying to save him after the allotted time. If we’d been there at exactly six o’clock, we could have saved him. The train comes through at two minutes past.’

Kim wanted to snap at Stacey to shut up, but the truth was she was right.

‘What about where he posted the clue for the cone? It wasn’t in the box,’ Penn argued.

‘He never said they would be in the boxes. No rule broken.’

A muscle tightened in Penn’s jaw. ‘Stace, I swear you’re doing my head⁠—’

‘Okay, guys. You’re going to have to agree to differ on this one,’ Kim said, breaking it up. ‘I think we can all agree that we’re not looking for a psychopath.’

‘Not that that helps at all,’ Bryant said. ‘Because very few psychopaths actually wear a sign or go around shouting it from the rooftops.’

‘Useful, Bryant,’ Kim noted.

‘Is there any chance he could be finished, guv?’ Bryant asked. ‘No box, no clue.’

She shook her head. ‘We already know there’s going to be a second victim. He warned us that this one would be missed. What did he mean by that?’

‘In his mind, Hiccup was low value, expendable. He took him to prove a point,’ Penn offered.

‘Which is?’

‘That the game is serious,’ Stacey replied. ‘To our killer, Hiccup offered nothing to anybody. It might be safe to assume that the next one will be the complete opposite.’

Kim nodded her agreement. ‘Go through any mispers in the last forty-eight hours and see if anything jumps out. Jack is under strict instructions to let me know of any new reports. We gotta keep ploughing through the names and the CCTV, guys.’ She focussed on Penn. ‘Did you start work on the warrant?’

A magistrate would sign off on them accessing Seekers records now they had proof that their killer was a known user.

He nodded. ‘Awaiting confirmation.’

‘Okay, obviously I need you to get cracking, and yes, I know I’m asking you both to clone yourself, but⁠—’

Kim stopped speaking as Bryant’s phone rang.

He raised his eyes upwards to indicate the call was coming from upstairs.

‘Tell him I’m on my way,’ she said, raising herself from the edge of the spare desk.

And she was, just via the female locker room, where she could at least splash some cold water on her face.

Woody had little patience for her mood when she was operating on her normal sleep patterns. God only knew how he was going to deal with her today.

SIXTY-SEVEN

7.20 A.M.

‘Is there any way this could have gone worse, Stone?’ her boss asked once she was sitting down.

It was one of those kinds of debriefings.

‘Worse than the man we were trying to save being splattered across the train lines? No, sir, I don’t think so,’ Kim said, gritting her teeth.

‘Don’t be facetious. You know what I mean,’ he snapped.

She did. She knew he had empathy for the victim. It was just one of the things she respected about him. She also knew that in his position, his feelings about victims could not be his only priority. He was still a police officer at heart, but he also had to broker peace between the teams on the ground and the force politicians.

‘What are we dealing with here?’ he prompted.

‘We’re dealing with an individual governed by rules. He takes them seriously and expects us to as well. We know it isn’t over from his first communication. Someone else will be taken, but the next will be missed. It’s clear that he wants fame and notoriety and that he’s not averse to brutality and cruelty to achieve it.’

‘What do you think would happen if you just stopped playing the game?’ Woody asked.

Kim had considered this a few times over the last twenty-four hours and she could see why Woody was asking. There was no game if one of the two opponents dropped out.

‘I don’t think it’s an option, sir,’ she said honestly. ‘Our guy has shown the lengths he’s prepared to go to, to keep us engaged. He’s sent us body parts to ensure we can’t walk away. He was willing to let a man die horrifically for the sake of the chase, and we know there’s more to come. Us walking away isn’t going to change that. The clues we followed took us to the victim. Two minutes earlier and he would have been saved. If he takes someone else and we don’t follow the trail, we’ll never even have a chance.’

Her own frustration was mirrored in Woody’s expression.

‘What’s the plan to catch him? Just follow the clues and hope one leads to him?’

‘No, sir, we’re going to do what we’ve always done. We’re going to narrow down timelines, look for vehicles, analyse paperwork, check CCTV, talk to people, follow our gut instinct.’

He nodded his agreement. ‘Any leads at all?’

‘At last count, about seventy-five, not including everyone that uses the Seekers website. That gives us a good fifty thousand more.’

‘Stone, are you deliberately⁠—’

‘No, sir. I’m just giving you an idea of what we’re dealing with. He sets rules and changes them, he doesn’t leave anything behind and he’s damn clever. Not to mention that he pre-empts every action we take.’

‘You know this is going to be all over the national press today?’

‘Of course,’ she answered, choosing not to mention that she’d been harassed by a Sunrise News reporter in the middle of the night.

‘Sir, there might be the odd complaint landing on your desk today.’

‘For what?’ he asked, narrowing his gaze.

‘Nothing too serious,’ she said, waving her hands. She wasn’t going to list all the people she’d pissed off in the last twenty-four hours. If the complaints came, she’d deal with them then. If they didn’t, she was giving him a shopping list of her own bad behaviour for no reason.

‘You know we’ve got to minimise this to the press, so I’ll be giving a prepared statement to a media conference at 8 a.m.’

‘Why you, sir?’ she asked.

‘We need to keep you out of this. Your credibility as a senior detective is being severely damaged. It’s the right thing to do.’

‘It is absolutely the wrong thing to do,’ she protested. ‘First of all, my credibility to anyone outside this building counts for nothing with me. And it’s too late anyway. I’m already the face of this thing, so the ship has sailed on that one. You stepping in does me more harm to be honest. Looks like I can’t handle the case. And do you really want to give him the attention of a detective chief inspector?’ she asked. ‘That’s really going to feed his ego.’

She saw that every one of her points hit home.

He hesitated for what felt like minutes. Part of his job was balancing what the politicians wanted him to do and what the correct operational move was, so she didn’t feel bad for putting him in this position.

What he was suggesting was wrong, and she hoped he had the sense to realise it.

He tapped his fingers on the desk. Normally a good sign. He was at least giving her argument serious consideration.

‘The contact with the press has to be by the book. Only read the approved statement.’

The statement from the press liaison would be banal, vanilla, one that could be used in a hundred different situations. It had been written by someone focussing on damage limitation, clever wording and other tricks to preserve their image. It certainly hadn’t come from the pen of someone anywhere near this case.

She waited for him to continue.

‘If I let you do this, can I count on you to stick to the script?’

‘Of course, sir. You know that I always follow your instructions.’

SIXTY-EIGHT

7.40 A.M.

Frost dropped her laptop case to the floor before collapsing onto the sofa.

She knew she must have appeared childish storming out of the squad room, but at that particular moment, it had felt like the only thing she could do.

There were consequences to the job that she did. She took abuse and insults; she spent hours, days, weeks working a story that didn’t go anywhere. She had doors slammed in her face, and she wasn’t a part of anyone’s team. She faced complaints, a hard-assed editor and competition from other reporters. But at no time did anyone die.

Contrary to what the police team believed, she had been listening and learning about Hiccup and his solitary life out on the streets. Yes, she was lucky enough to have a home and a job, she hoped, but she could still identify with the loneliness. Not that she would ever admit that to another living soul.

In truth, she envied the camaraderie of the team she’d witnessed, even Stone’s place within it. There were no hearts or flowers with that woman, and she often forgot the basics of please and thank you, but food had continually arrived to fuel her colleagues, and Frost had caught the welfare checks. She had handled the minor breakdown of one of her team members with professionalism, firmness and genuine compassion that Frost had never seen out in the field. Despite the inspector’s brusque manner, her team both liked and respected her.

There was no such sense of team in her own working environment. Everyone wanted the next big story, the most column inches, the most prominent byline.

She’d never admit it to Stone, but she’d enjoyed the brief spell of being part of a team, working together for a common goal.

What she hadn’t told them was that their guy was blowing up her phone with text messages demanding the next update. He had expected to read her report on the brutal and tragic death of Hiccup. It was an article she just couldn’t write, and that was what had driven her to abandon the case.

Before pulling out of the station car park, she’d told the Jester to fuck off – twice. Her phone had been silent ever since. She’d had the ridiculous notion to go to her mother’s house. She needed to talk, vent. She needed comfort, reassurance, understanding. She still lived in hope that one day her mother would provide such things.

Despite banging on the door for twenty minutes and attracting the attention of most of the neighbours, her mother still hadn’t answered the door.

Instead, Frost had driven to the nearest Costa and tried to corral her feelings over a comforting latte.

What she needed now more than anything was sleep. Not only because she was exhausted but because she needed a break from her own thoughts. She needed to reset and wake up her normal self.

As her eyelids began to droop, she realised she should ring someone at the station and apologise for running out on them when she had been the one to bring the case to them in the first place. Maybe later, once all the thoughts had stopped swirling around her head, when she could think clearly and the fatigue fog had cleared.

Yes, that’s what she’d do. She’d call Stone and apologise.

Content with her plan, she rested her head back on the sofa.

Within seconds, sleep had claimed her.

She never even heard the unlocking of the back door.

SIXTY-NINE

8 A.M.

Kim wasn’t daunted by the prospect of doing the press conference. Even when she saw that some of the nationals had left their beds really early to come and take a shot at them.

She’d meant it when she’d said her reputation wasn’t important to her. Finding the person who had killed Hiccup was.

Before stepping out, she touched the piece of paper in her pocket. She’d been right about the statement issued by the press liaison office.

A man has been killed. We will not rest until the person responsible is caught. All available resources are being utilised. Emergency services to be thanked for prompt action. Leads are being followed, blah, blah, blah.

And at the bottom in bold capital letters were the words:

CATEGORICALLY NO QUESTIONS

She took her hand out of her pocket and stepped through the automatic doors.

The questions were already coming at her thick and fast as flashbulbs exploded in her face. She focussed and strode towards the podium.

Bryant took his place behind her as she adjusted the microphone.

Although she was staring straight ahead, it wasn’t hard to note that Frost was nowhere in sight. Either she was still sulking or she truly had been fired.

Any hopes that Steve Ashworth had skulked back off to Sunrise News were dashed when she saw that he was front and centre, directly in her eyeline. Like the others, his mobile phone was pointed towards her.

Realising that she wasn’t going to speak until the questions stopped, the press pack eventually settled down.

She briefly considered Woody and the people he answered to watching, waiting for her to read out the statement.

Yeah, right, she thought while taking a breath.

‘Early yesterday morning we were contacted by an individual wishing to engage us in a pre-planned game. The invitation was taken seriously due to a clear threat to an innocent person.’

She paused as her silent phone began to vibrate.

It had to be Woody. He knew she wouldn’t stop what she was doing to answer it, but it was his way of telling her she was in the shit.

Oh well, in for a penny, in for a pound.

‘All instructions were followed while we worked to uncover leads to the person or persons involved. Particularly instrumental in this was Dudley Star reporter Tracy Frost, to whom the initial communication was sent. The team is grateful for the patience and support of the Dudley Star management team.’

Fire her now, you bastard.

Kim took a moment to assess the expressions on the faces in front of her. They weren’t pensive or eager for gory facts. They were disdainfully amused, waiting for their chance to poke fun at the investigation. Ashworth in particular appeared to be thoroughly enjoying himself.

It was one giant joke to the lot of them.

‘An innocent homeless man was abducted from the streets on Saturday night and used as bait to lure us into the game. He was promised a hot meal and a comfortable bed.’

Amusement was fading.

‘As we followed the trail, along with clues to the next location, we found body parts extracted using horrific torture methods.’

Very little amusement was left, although Steve Ashworth’s expression had barely altered.

‘The same man lost his life early this morning, despite our best efforts to locate him.’

She paused to see that the humour had been wiped completely from their faces.

‘And now I’ll take some questions,’ she said as Bryant groaned behind her.

Daily Mail. ‘Do you think your man is making a fool of you?’

‘Only if people think the torture and murder of an innocent man is funny, and I don’t see many people laughing.’

Sunrise News. ‘Do you think he’s too clever for you?’

Of course that had been Ashworth’s question. ‘He’s been lucky. Next.’

Daily Mirror. ‘Are Forensics involved?’

‘All resources are being used. This incident is not being treated lightly.’

Midland News Group. ‘Will you be releasing the identity of the victim?’

‘Once his family has been located and informed. Next?’

Sunrise News – again. ‘Do you feel responsible for not finding the man before the train splattered him all over the tracks? And a second question. Are the police sticking to the letter of the law during this investigation?’

She felt Bryant’s presence behind her and knew it was time to end. But first she allowed the smirking Ashworth to see the repulsion on her face.

Woody was probably sending messages threatening to come and physically remove her.

She nodded her thanks to the press for their time and moved away from the microphone, even though questions were still being fired like bullets at her back.

She’d been way more open than anyone above her pay grade would want, but she hoped sharing those details had served a purpose.

Laugh at her all they liked but not at their victim. He had done nothing except take up an offer of kindness. He didn’t deserve the mirth that was being attached to every news report.

‘Guv, might be an idea to head off somewhere Woody won’t find you. He’s on the warpath.’

‘Oh, I have just the place in mind,’ Kim said, heading straight for the car.

It was time to go digging for secrets.

SEVENTY

8.40 A.M.

Only good manners that she hadn’t realised she possessed had kept her away from this address for the last twelve hours. But there were very few single parents with two children not up and functioning by this hour.

And so it was that Joanne Deary answered the door with her jacket already on.

‘May we have a⁠—’

‘Not right now. I have to get this one to school,’ she said, pushing a young boy out of the door. ‘And we’ve already had a drama about odd socks. Can it wait?’ she asked, reversing the pushchair out of the door.

‘Not really,’ Kim said.

She hated lingering questions, and this one had been off and on all night.

‘Are you walking?’ Kim asked as Joanne did a three-point turn with the buggy.

‘Of course.’

‘We’ll tag along,’ Kim said, not being one to interfere in any child’s education.

‘So, your uncle, the one that suggested using Seekers, is Eric Lane?’

‘Yes,’ Joanne said, giving nothing away.

‘You were close once?’

‘I suppose so,’ she said, checking to make sure her boy wasn’t walking too far ahead. ‘He kind of stepped in when I lost my parents in a car accident. I was nineteen, so it’s not like I needed full-time care or anything, but he just checked on me and stuff.’

‘Yeah, I’ve seen photos of you all celebrating the little one’s birthday.’

Joanne seemed surprised, as though she couldn’t think how that would have happened.

‘Instagram,’ Kim clarified. ‘Nothing recent though,’ she added.

‘Not seen them for a while,’ Joanne said, stopping to wait at a crossing.

‘Why’s that then?’

‘Just busy, I suppose,’ she said as they reached the other side of the road.

‘I’m gonna be honest here, Joanne, and stop you before you tell me any more lies.’

‘I’m not tell⁠—’

‘Your aunt’s expression says otherwise. I won’t even tell you what she called you.’

‘I can imagine. She’s never liked me. She’s strange. Her whole focus is on people related to her by blood. She tries to rule that family with an iron fist.’

‘Still not buying it,’ Kim said. ‘Not liking you is out of proportion for how she reacted when I mentioned your name.’

‘Okay, if you must know, I got a bit too close to one of her precious sons.’

‘Your cousin?’

Joanne coloured as she nodded.

Kim tried to picture the young mother and studious twenty-something Boyce together. It wasn’t so much the age difference but more that they appeared to be at such different stages of their lives.

‘That’s why she hates me. Now please just leave me alone.’

Joanne rushed away as Kim’s phone began to ring.

Having established it had nothing to do with the case, Kim felt there was no point running after her.

She was surprised to see it was the station calling.

‘Go ahead, Jack,’ she said, heading back towards the car.

‘Just heard something you might be interested in.’

‘Go on.’

‘Request to attend an address in Hagley for a woman who hasn’t turned in for work.’

Kim’s hopes faded. She could think of a hundred reasons for the late arrival.

‘Thanks, Jack, but that’s not quite⁠—’

‘Had I finished yet?’

‘Go on,’ she said, rolling her eyes.

‘It’s being reported by her colleagues, who insist she would not have been late for work today of all days.’

‘Jeez, what is she, a brain surgeon?’ Kim asked.

‘Heart surgeon, actually, kids, and she has a case being admitted today.’

The words she’d read what seemed like days ago jumped into her head.

You will not miss the first, but you will miss the next.

‘Give me the address,’ she instructed as the speed in her step found another gear.

SEVENTY-ONE

9.30 A.M.

The house in Hagley was not what Kim was expecting. Yes, it was nice enough, a cottage-style property set back off the road with a tall hedge surrounding the front garden. But after quickly googling the woman during the drive, she’d learned that Nazeera Khan was the leading paediatric heart transplant surgeon in the county.

For some reason, she’d expected something grander.

The limited space in front of the property was crowded with three regular cars and one squad car.

‘You really think this could be connected to our case?’ Bryant asked, switching off the engine.

That was her colleague’s code for saying they were wasting their time.

‘I bloody hope not,’ she said, getting out of the car.

She was praying that Nazeera’s colleagues already had an answer as to her whereabouts and this had been a pointless detour.

That hope died as she entered the grounds and two smartly dressed people looked at her with worried expressions.

The police officer with them gave her an odd look, probably wondering why CID was attending a late-into-work call.

‘Are you a detective?’ the woman asked, stepping forward.

‘I am.’

‘I’m Audra Wilkinson, clinical director at Russell’s Hall. This is Robert Dickens, my assistant, and we’re very worried about Nazeera.’

As if to prove her point, she immediately started wringing her hands.

‘Have you knocked?’

‘Continuously. Doors, windows. The other officer is looking to see if he can see anything. Can we not just break in?’

It was exactly what Kim wanted to do, but it wasn’t something they could go around doing without good reason.

‘I understand your concern, but people⁠—’

‘I know what you’re going to say, but not Nazeera,’ Audra replied as the second officer appeared.

He shook his head to indicate there was nothing open.

Kim acknowledged him and turned back to the clinical director. ‘Even surgeons can have days when they don’t want to go to work.’

‘Not today, Officer. Definitely not today,’ Audra said, shaking her head. Although he didn’t speak, her assistant obviously agreed with her.

A pit was forming in Kim’s stomach.

‘It’s Jessica’s surgery today.’

Kim waited, wondering why Audra thought that was enough of an explanation for someone that didn’t work at the hospital.

Realising her mistake, the woman frowned. ‘You don’t watch the local news?’

Kim bit back the retort on her lips about being a bit busy. ‘Assume not.’

‘Jessica Styles is an eight-year-old girl in desperate need of a heart transplant. Without one she will die. A suitable match will be available at three this afternoon.’

‘Will be?’ Kim asked. Surely a donor heart was available or it wasn’t.

‘A little girl in Bristol in a coma will be removed from life support this afternoon.’

One little girl for another. One family’s despair and another one’s hope.

‘There is no expectation of the poor child making any recovery,’ Audra said, with genuine sadness. ‘She is brain dead and being kept alive only by machines. Once her family has had the chance to say their goodbyes, she will be allowed to rest in peace.’

Kim appreciated the woman’s sentiment, but in her mind was the picture of a team ready and waiting to open up the small body and harvest organs before the child was even cold.

‘We have to save the ones we can, Officer, and right now our priority is Jessica Styles. We only have a window of six hours. Surgery is booked for seven this evening. No one else can do this surgery. Only Nazeera knows the case well enough.’

‘No plan B?’ Kim asked.

The woman opened her hands. ‘Why would we need one?’

The pit in Kim’s stomach was growing.

‘Maybe she’s decided to come in late,’ Kim tried. ‘If she’s got a long day ahead of her.’

Kim wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince herself or her audience. The possibility that their sicko had taken the surgeon was too horrific to contemplate.

‘She wouldn’t,’ Audra answered. ‘Jessica was admitted at 8 a.m., and Nazeera should have been there to settle her and speak with the parents. She’s known this child for three years. She would have been there, I swear. I’ve just spoken to her next of kin, her mother, who knows of no reason Nazeera would be late.’

Kim took one more look at the woman’s face before turning to the officer.

‘Break it down.’

Within minutes, he’d retrieved the big red key from his car and slammed it against the front door.

It was a latch-type lock that caved on the second attempt.

‘Wait, wait, wait, what is going on here?’ Kim heard from behind.

The heavily accented voice came from a diminutive Indian lady barrelling towards them, holding a set of keys and a phone.

‘Mrs Khan?’ Audra asked.

‘Yes. Yes. A lady called me about Nazzy.’

‘That was me,’ Audra said, stepping forward. ‘Thank you so much for⁠—’

‘I live up there,’ she said, pointing to the top of the road. She offered a cursory glance to everyone present. ‘Well, where is she?’

‘That’s what we’re trying to find out,’ Kim explained. ‘We’re not sure she’s home.’

‘I will check,’ she said, stepping towards the open doorway.

‘No, no, no,’ Kim said, blocking her path. She had no idea what they were going to find in there. Now the door had been forced, it was a police matter.

The woman swatted away Kim’s efforts but took out her phone. ‘I will call her. She will answer me,’ she said confidently.

Kim seriously hoped so.

The woman frowned when there was no response, but Kim could hear the phone ringing somewhere inside the house.

‘Okay, Mrs Khan, could you please go back home, and we’ll come and speak to you shortly.’

The woman folded her arms and shook her head. ‘I stay right here until I know where my Nazzy is.’

Kim supposed she would feel exactly the same.

‘Come with me, Mrs Khan,’ one of the uniformed officers said, gently guiding her away from the front door. ‘Let the detectives do their work, and they’ll be along to speak to you in a minute.’

Satisfied the woman was out of earshot, Kim turned towards the open door.

The second officer stepped aside for Kim to enter, and as she did so, her heart immediately sank.

The living room bore the signs of a mammoth struggle. Cushions littered the floor, and furniture had been overturned. A vase of flowers had been smashed on the laminate flooring.

‘No other family?’ Kim called out to the administrator. She needed to know how many people she was looking for.

‘Divorced, no children,’ the woman called back before asking, ‘Is she in there?’

Kim offered no answer as Bryant headed up the stairs two at a time.

She searched the ground floor, finding no further signs of disturbance. She suspected Bryant would find the same upstairs.

‘Nothing up there, guv,’ he said when he came back down. ‘Except for her work clothes hanging up on the front of her wardrobe.’

‘Shit,’ Kim said, now able to picture the scene.

Whoever had her had taken her during the night. He’d got her to answer her door, and on seeing that it was someone she didn’t know, she had backed up into the living room where the struggle had ensued. And boy had she given him a fight. Even so, he had prevailed, and Nazeera had been abducted.

‘Shit,’ she said again, taking another look around the room.

And then she saw what she hadn’t noticed when she’d stepped in, her focus on the carnage.

To the left of the front door was a petty cash tin. The same kind of tin she’d been collecting since yesterday.

Inside was no Dictaphone, no video camera and no body parts. Instead there was just a white index card and a tiny red pin cushion shaped like a heart.

Bryant peered over her shoulder. ‘Knows exactly who she is and just what she’s scheduled to do.’

‘Next clue,’ she said, handing him the card.

‘“Very tall but almost little. Find my next by 12 p.m. or…”’ he read out.

Kim handed Bryant the box and took out her phone. Woody wouldn’t be expecting to see her calling him voluntarily.

He answered immediately.

‘Stone, you’d better get yourself to my off⁠—’

‘He’s taken someone else, sir,’ she said, knowing the update would take priority over how much he wanted to kick her ass right now. Any bollockings could wait.

She could imagine him putting his rage to the back of his throat.

‘Who?’

‘A heart surgeon. Due to carry out a transplant on a little girl later today.’

His silence was deafening as he weighed up his next course of action.

On the one hand, he wanted to order her back to the station to tear strips off her following her performance at the press conference. His phone had probably been ringing off the hook.

On the other hand, they now had a second victim who would most surely be missed, and the people calling Woody’s phone would be far more interested if this one turned up dead. It pained her to admit that the loss of Hiccup would barely register on their radar, but a paediatric heart surgeon would bring out the politician in all of them.

When Woody did speak, it was in a voice she rarely heard.

‘Okay, get to it, Stone, but make no mistake: if this surgeon doesn’t come back alive, this will be the last case you ever work.’

The line went dead in her ear.

It was exactly what she’d expected, but hearing the words convinced her that he meant what he said.

It wasn’t the first time she’d done things under the threat of losing her job. Hell, it seemed to happen with almost every case she worked. Woody trusted her instincts. He had faith in her ability and her passion, and he afforded her a great deal of leverage in the interest of getting the job done.

But this time the higher-ups were involved. Woody wasn’t the only one watching her every move. The top brass would ensure that, should anything go wrong, someone would be shoved front and centre to take the fall.

So although the threat wasn’t new to her, this time it wouldn’t be Woody’s decision to make.

SEVENTY-TWO

9.50 A.M.

Kim knocked on the door at the end of the row.

It was opened immediately. ‘Is she there?’ Nazeera’s mother demanded.

Kim shook her head as she stepped inside. The property appeared to be a similar layout to her daughter’s home.

‘There’s a perfectly good reason for this,’ Mrs Khan said. ‘She’ll be back any minute.’

She looked around Kim to Bryant. ‘Did you bring Salt and Pepper?’

Kim frowned. Why was she asking if they’d brought condiments?

‘Nazzy’s rescue cats. Bonded pair. She adores them,’ Mrs Khan said, taking a seat. ‘She didn’t bring them round. She does that if she’s going to be gone for a while, so she can’t be far.’

Kim thought of her own arrangement with her neighbour Charlie, who was taking care of Barney for her right now. She looked to Bryant, who turned around and headed back to Nazeera’s house.

‘Probably just gone for a drive. Clear her head. It’s a big day for her today.’

Kim knew that Mrs Khan would have clocked that her daughter’s car was still outside the house but she was choosing to ignore the fact.

‘Or a long walk,’ she said as though reading Kim’s thoughts.

‘You must be very proud of her,’ Kim said gently, allowing the woman a few minutes to come to terms with the fact that all was not well.

The woman beamed. ‘First one in our family to go to university. Her father died just before she finished medical school, and it’s been the two of us ever since. She’s a good girl. She takes care of me,’ Mrs Khan said, waving her hand, indicating the house.

Ahhh, that made sense. Kim had expected a larger, grander property, but Nazeera was responsible for her mother’s home as well as her own.

‘Do you speak to Nazeera every day?’ Kim asked.

Mrs Khan nodded. ‘At least once during the day, and we take turns to cook. She comes to me. I come to her.’

‘And has she mentioned anything about being followed recently?’

‘Where’s to follow? She gets in the car and goes to work. She gets in the car and comes home.’

‘Not much socialising then?’ Kim asked, taking that as a no. She wondered if there was any way she could find out why Nazeera had been targeted in particular. Had she somehow been in contact with their sicko?

Mrs Khan sighed. ‘I wish, but since the divorce, she just works and comes home. Divorce hit her hard, especially coming so soon after the terrible news.’

Kim waited.

‘Nazzy was told that she would never bear children. End of the something.’

‘Endometriosis?’ Kim asked.

Mrs Khan nodded. ‘Amir couldn’t bear the thought of not having children, so he left.’

Kim couldn’t help but wonder what that had done for the woman’s confidence and sense of self-worth. She was a top-class paediatric heart surgeon to some and a baby-making machine to someone else.

Like the woman hadn’t suffered enough, she was now in the hands of a sick bastard who wanted to play a game.

Now that she had a clearer picture of the kind of woman they were looking for, it was up to Kim to help Mrs Khan lift her head out of the sand.

‘Mrs Khan, I need to explain⁠—’

Kim was interrupted as Bryant stepped into the room with an armful of fur and a couple of scratches on his right hand.

‘Hiding under the bed,’ he said, passing them into Mrs Khan’s outstretched arms.

‘Come here, lovelies. Mummy will be back soon. It’s okay,’ she soothed as they both purred.

Bryant’s expression said they hadn’t been quite so accommodating with him.

‘Nazzy would be devastated if anything happened to her babies.’

Most people wouldn’t be able to understand such a word used in relation to pets, but Kim did.

‘Not nice man across the street died. Family didn’t want them. Were going to have them put to sleep. Nazzy couldn’t stand the thought and took them. Skin and bone and full of worms they were, but she nursed them back to health.’

Obviously Nazeera’s caring trait wasn’t something she only used at work.

‘Mrs Khan, I’m sorry to say that Nazeera has been abducted.’

The woman’s hands stilled on the heads of the cats. ‘Abducted?’

Kim nodded.

‘By who?’ she asked.

‘Someone involved in a case we’re working,’ Kim said.

‘You know who has her?’ Mrs Khan asked, confused.

‘I can’t give you any more details,’ Kim said. ‘But you need to know that she isn’t out taking a long walk.’

‘But why?’ she asked as tears formed in her eyes. ‘Nazzy wouldn’t hurt anyone, and we have no ransom money.’

‘She hasn’t done anything wrong. It’s not even personal. Her captor wants to make a point, and we’re going to stop him,’ Kim said with more confidence than she felt, but Nazeera’s mother appeared to have shrunk before her very eyes.

‘Wherever she is, she’ll be okay. Sh-She is strong,’ Mrs Khan said, fighting back the tears.

Kim reached over and squeezed her hand before standing.

Mrs Khan stood up and hugged her. ‘Inspector, please bring my daughter home.’

Kim assured her she would, stepping hurriedly out of the embrace. As she did so, she spotted a blue Toyota parked across the road.

Fucking Ashworth was not giving up. She had no idea what Sunrise News paid him, but it was obviously worth his while to continue pursuing this case.

‘Bryant, did you call us in?’ she asked as they left Mrs Khan’s property. Bryant always radioed to inform the control room of their attendance at incidents.

‘Of course.’

‘Bastard’s got a scanner,’ she said as his car door opened.

She had to think quickly as he headed their way. She had to get him away from this case. Following her press conference, she had hoped that any lingering press would retreat. With no more updates from Frost and no further communication from the police, it was all going cold. They had a death, they had a body and they didn’t know that their sicko had promised to do more. As far as they knew, the case was being worked like any other murder.

She began walking back towards the car. She had to play this perfectly to get rid of him.

‘Quite the press conference,’ Ashworth said, falling into step beside her. ‘Willing to bet that wasn’t on the briefing sheet.’

‘And I’ve paid the price, so piss off.’

‘They took you off the case?’

‘What do you think?’

How the hell to steer him away without it appearing like she was giving him information?

‘So, who’s in charge of⁠—’

‘Look,’ she snapped, stopping suddenly so that he almost walked into her. ‘You wanna follow me around while I serve my punishment working burglaries and searching for CCTV, be my guest. You’re gonna be bored, and it won’t make much of an article, but fill your fucking boots.’

She hoped her manufactured rage would convince him that her poor performance and the disastrous press conference had prompted her bosses to remove her from the case and that she was none too happy about it.

He appeared unfazed as he continued to match her speed. She shook her head at Bryant as he tried to intervene.

There was no point making this bigger than it needed to be. The objective was to convince him there was nothing more to see.

‘Oh, don’t worry about me. I’m not here about the Jester. You’re right, that’s old news. I’ve been spending my downtime doing some research.’

Kim carried on walking, even though she didn’t like the feeling starting to form in her stomach. ‘Good for you.’

‘You’re a maverick, Inspector Stone, and mavericks don’t normally last long in the police force.’

‘They do if they’re good at their job,’ she said as they approached the car.

He shook his head. ‘Not good enough. You should still have been turfed out on your ear, and I want to know why you’re not. So like I said, don’t concern yourself with me wasting my time. You’re my story now.’

Kim opened her mouth to tell him there was nothing there to find, but he had already turned away.

‘Bloody idiot,’ Bryant said as they got in the car.

She agreed with her colleague, but it didn’t make the feeling in her stomach go away.

SEVENTY-THREE

10.05 A.M.

‘She’s a bloody hero,’ Stacey said with her mouth hanging open.

‘What’s that now?’ Penn asked, ending his call. A call she suspected would make the boss happy, as it meant she would finally be able to request the records from Seekers.

She didn’t like to be jaded, but she guessed things would move a whole lot quicker now and not just because it was a Monday morning. Once Penn had updated the request with the details of the second missing person, the warrant had been issued immediately.

‘Nazeera Khan. The lives she’s saved,’ Stacey continued. ‘And she put herself through medical school. No trust fund, no wealthy parents. She studied and worked hard, and now she saves the lives of young kids.’

Stacey knew she sounded in awe of the surgeon because she was. She liked to think that her own work meant something, that she made a difference, but she couldn’t even imagine having the skill to save a child’s life.

Stacey clicked on a link to a video shot at the hospital just a couple of weeks earlier. The image hit her in a part of her body she hadn’t known existed. It was between her ribs but beneath her heart. She felt a surge as her gaze went straight to the little girl sitting between her mum and Nazeera.

The video was a plea for people to register as donors and, although Nazeera was speaking professionally and eloquently, the almost unconscious snaking of her arm around the back of Jessica’s chair demonstrated a personal attachment had clearly developed between doctor and patient.

Jessica’s mum stared into the lens, but the tension around her jaw and the redness around her eyes from keeping her tears in check told the story of a mother trying not to show what she knew to be true. Her daughter was going to die.

The strange feeling intensified as she watched the little girl sitting between the two women who obviously cared about her a great deal.

Jessica looked ill. The dark circles around her eyes were emphasised by the paleness of her skin. Spindly thin arms protruded from the three-quarter-length sleeves of her yellow blouse. Her slender neck gave her head the appearance of a lollipop.

For the most part, she looked into the camera, but occasional furtive glances at both the surgeon and at her mother showed that she knew just how serious the situation was.

Stacey felt sure her heart was about to break. Jessica was just a child. She should have been out playing, getting dirty, running around, not pleading with the public for the chance of a new life.

It hit her hard.

That little girl was going to die if they didn’t find Nazeera in time.

‘Penn, we really have to get Nazeera back,’ Stacey breathed, closing the clip.

‘Just gotta work out this damn clue,’ Penn said.

Penn loved a puzzle, but this guy was really testing him.

‘Very tall but almost little,’ Stacey said, both to refresh her own mind and remove the image of poor Jessica from it.

The boss had instructed them to continue with the names, the CCTV, trying to solve the clue, and now she wanted information on some guy from Sunrise News too.

‘What’s very tall around here?’ Stacey asked, offering Penn a little bit of help.

‘The radio masts on Turners Hill in Rowley Regis? It’s the highest hill in the West Midlands.’

‘That the one that can be seen from Kinver?’ she asked.

‘Yeah, but there’s nothing almost little about it.’

Stacey’s brief hope faded. They both knew that every word meant something.

‘Penn, I worry this is one we’re not going to get.’

He was saved from answering as her phone rang.

It was a number she didn’t recognise.

‘DC Wood,’ she answered.

‘DS Jones, West Mercia. You left a message,’ said a female voice.

‘Thanks for calling back. I’m ringing about a sexual assault that happened about six months ago, just outside Stourport. Victim’s name was Melissa Keene.’

‘How do you know that?’ the woman asked suspiciously.

‘We think this rape might be linked to a case we’re working.’

‘Another rape?’ she asked.

‘Not really, but it’s linked to the puzzle websites,’ Stacey answered, hoping she wasn’t going to put two and two together.

The woman laughed. ‘You think it’s to do with the guy that’s got you lot running around the Black Country?’

Damn, this woman could do her maths. Stacey felt the heat flood her cheeks and wondered if they were ever going to live this down.

Her lack of response was answer enough.

‘I hope this isn’t your best lead because we couldn’t even prove that she was following any kind of trail. If it was there, the trail was removed fast and the website shut down completely once we started asking questions.’

‘Do you doubt that she was raped?’ Stacey asked.

‘Of course not. I believe that one hundred per cent, but she was in the middle of a field and couldn’t give us any kind of description.’

‘So nothing was done?’ Stacey asked.

‘Everything that could be done was done, but you know how it is with these cases. Our chances of finding the person who did this are slim to none.’

Stacey hated having to admit that she was probably right.

‘Okay, thanks for the⁠—’

‘Listen, I probably shouldn’t tell you this, but you’re getting enough shit right now. We didn’t get any matches, but we do have DNA.’

Stacey thanked her and, after getting Melissa’s address, ended the call deflated, having learned virtually nothing. What was the point of DNA if you had no suspect to match it to?

SEVENTY-FOUR

10.40 A.M.

There was a part of Kim that couldn’t wait to wipe the smirk off Ryan Douglas’s face when she presented him with the warrant. The paperwork covered all records, but what she really wanted were those membership names. There had to be a record of the real name logged against the Jester674 username.

Despite her pleas for assistance, he had remained indifferent to the seriousness of the investigation. That demonstrated an arrogance that she rarely saw.

Unlike the previous day, he answered the door to his offices looking very much the boss and owner of the business. He wasn’t wearing a tie, but his crisp white shirt with one button open and his well-cut black trousers still exuded authority and confidence. Too much confidence. And she wasn’t keen on the easy smile he was wearing either.

‘Inspector, how lovely to see you,’ he said, guiding her past a stack of archive boxes. ‘I expected you much sooner.’

She said nothing as he continued through the office, where every desk was now occupied.

He showed them into a small meeting room and closed the door behind them.

‘You haven’t caught him yet then?’

Kim ignored the question and slid the warrant across the table.

He didn’t even look at it.

‘I see you made the news,’ he said, placing his right foot on his left knee as though they were discussing the weather.

‘Yeah, a horrific murder tends to do that.’

‘Tragic,’ he said, examining his nails.

Bryant cleared his throat to bring her back. He knew full well that it was taking all her self-control not to launch across the desk and throttle Ryan.

‘Not so tragic for you. Your subscription applications have increased by how many per cent?’

He made no effort to hide his smile. ‘Enough that the team out there will be getting a decent Christmas bonus.’

‘It really is in your interest to keep this going for as long as possible, isn’t it? Every mention in the press must set those tills ringing. That’s why you were reluctant to help me yesterday.’

‘Not at all, Inspector. I respect the law, all aspects of it, including the laws that prohibit taking another person’s property. And the law that says police officers can’t come into my business demanding stuff without a warrant.’

‘So, you were just sticking your dick out yesterday?’

He laughed. ‘If you want to put it like that, then yes I was.’

‘And a man’s life was worth that posturing?’ she challenged him.

‘He was a vagrant, wasn’t he?’

‘Does it matter?’ she snapped.

He shook his head but not quickly enough to convince her he meant it.

‘So, what’s next?’ he asked, rubbing his hands as though desperate to be involved.

‘Where were you yesterday, Mr Douglas?’

‘Here. All day. Working and watching developments.’

‘Anyone to confirm this?’

‘The only people I saw were you two, so I suppose that makes you my alibi.’

‘For about an hour, maybe. Any other proof?’

‘Only the fact that the documents I was gathering are ready for your collection. Even though you were also sticking your dick out in trying to demand my co-operation, I knew you’d be back with the warrant, so I spent the day preparing for it.’

Kim held out her hand for a thumb drive.

His smile turned into a smirk. ‘Oh, you’ll need more hands than that, Inspector,’ he said, getting up. ‘Those boxes you passed on your way in should contain everything you need.’

She remembered seeing four archive boxes stacked up.

‘I didn’t know exactly what the warrant would ask for so I took the liberty of making sure you had absolutely everything.’

‘You couldn’t do it electronically?’ Kim asked.

‘Sorry, too risky with hackers. There are some bad people out there.’

Kim clenched her fists in her pockets, so sure was she that she had little control over them.

Without another word, she left the meeting room, marched through the office, grabbed the top box and headed for the car, Bryant following with two more of the boxes.

‘Sorry they’re not as organised as they should be, but I was doing it on my own,’ Ryan said, leaning against the front door.

For just a split second, Kim saw the full force of his arrogance. The absolute belief that he would face no consequences for his actions. She wondered if that was the face Frost had seen.

She stumbled forward with the heavy box in her hand and rammed his back so hard that he pitched forward and fell onto the gravel drive.

‘Ooops, sorry, didn’t see you there,’ she said, placing the box in Bryant’s car. ‘Oh, and Tracy Frost said hi.’

Her colleague headed for the last box and made no offer to help the man up.

Kim took a moment to enjoy the fact the smirk had been wiped from Ryan’s face. Yeah, it could be a complaint, but she would say it had been an accident. And as long as Woody addressed the complaints in chronological order, she’d most likely be sacked by the time he reached this one.

More prominent in her mind was how they were going to find anything useful in the rainforest of pages Ryan had produced, and whether or not he had more than one reason to try and slow them down.

SEVENTY-FIVE

11.10 A.M.

‘Is this guy having a laugh?’ Stacey said, bringing the last of the four boxes into the squad room.

‘He wasn’t too joyful when he was picking the gravel out of his palms,’ Bryant offered.

‘Huh?’

‘Never mind,’ the boss said, offering Bryant a look. ‘He’s got no interest in seeing this goose chase end. He’s doing pretty well out of it.’

‘Even if people are dying?’ Penn asked.

The boss shrugged to indicate the man couldn’t care less.

It would take them weeks to go through this lot, and they couldn’t even do it efficiently. If the information had been sent electronically, there were all kinds of searches she could run, but with this, every sheet had to be looked at and analysed.

For a second, she thought of the little girl whose life depended on the safe return of Nazeera Khan. The hours left for them to make that happen were now in single figures. That was assuming they found her able to function. After what the Jester had done to Hiccup, who knew what state she was in?

She shook away the negative thoughts. She had to believe that Nazeera was being kept safe.

She turned her attention back to the boxes of documents.

She looked up again to find the boss watching her.

‘Only when you’ve got nothing better to do, Stace,’ Kim told her.

‘Talking of which, I’ve got an address for Melissa Keene if you think it’s worth pursuing,’ Stacey said, handing her a Post-it note.

Kim put it in her back pocket. ‘Focus on the clues. That’s how we’re going to find Nazeera.’

Stacey nodded her understanding. ‘We can’t get anything from this one. There aren’t even enough words to go on. Very tall but almost little. We’ve been looking up everything tall in a ten-mile radius, but there’s nothing with any reference to being little or almost little.’

‘Almost little,’ the boss said, pondering. ‘That’s the bit that means everything.’

‘But surely if it’s tall it can’t be almost little,’ Bryant said.

‘Exactly. So he’s telling us something else.’

Those had been Stacey’s thoughts exactly, but she just hadn’t been able to work it out.

‘Almost little, almost little, almost⁠—’

Kim stopped speaking, paused and then turned to Bryant.

‘Look lively, partner. I know exactly where we need to go.’

SEVENTY-SIX

11.30 A.M.

The Hagley Obelisk stood close to the summit of Wychbury Hill and was a stone’s throw from an area called Lyttelton. At twenty-six metres high, it was visible for miles around and was accessible from public footpaths.

As far as Kim knew, it was a listed building, but that didn’t stop the question ‘who put Bella in the Wych Elm?’ being periodically spray-painted on it. It referred to an unsolved World War II-era mystery in which the decomposed body of a woman was found in a nearby wood.

‘Might just get this one ahead of time,’ Bryant said as they began the trail from Monument Lane. ‘But I wish our guy wasn’t so focussed on hills. I’ll need a bloody pacemaker once we solve this case.’

Kim smiled inwardly at Bryant’s in-built positivity that said they would solve this case. Quite frankly, their guy could send them up as many hills as he liked as long as they got Nazeera back at the end of the day.

They both chose to hang on to the breath they had and remained silent until they got to the top of the hill.

They reached the obelisk and walked around it.

‘Where is it?’ Kim asked, even though she knew Bryant didn’t have the answer.

‘It ain’t here, guv. Maybe we got the place wrong?’

She shook her head. She knew they had the right place, but where the hell was it?

‘It’s almost twelve,’ he continued. ‘It’s unlikely we’re the first people past here today. It might have been taken by someone else.’

Kim considered his point and shook her head. ‘There’s no purpose to having us in this game if we don’t get a chance to solve it.’

‘He does change the rules,’ Bryant observed, and he was right, but there was a fundamental basis to a game like this. There had to be a cat, and there had to be a mouse. Whatever gratification he was getting would disappear if they weren’t even in the game. And he’d gone to such lengths to have the police involved.

‘It’s here somewhere,’ she said. ‘Walk forward forty metres and walk round the obelisk anticlockwise.’

She would go clockwise looking in all directions.

A few minutes later, they met on the other side. Neither of them had spotted anything in the distance.

Think, think, think, she told herself. How could he leave something here to be found but not noticeable to anyone passing by? There was no way into the obelisk that she could see, and it had to be somewhere that she could access.

She looked more closely at the grass where it met the stone of the obelisk.

‘What?’ Bryant asked.

‘Look at this,’ she said, bending down.

There was a strip of grass approximately forty centimetres long that wasn’t as close to the hard surface of the obelisk base as it should have been.

She kneeled down. On closer inspection, she could see two faint lines in the grass that she would never have noticed from a standing position. The grass had been expertly cut.

She chose not to use the same painstaking technique as she grabbed at the turf and peeled it back.

Surprise was immediately followed by relief.

Surprise that she was looking at a plain white envelope in a cellophane bag, and relief that the envelope was not holding any of Nazeera’s body parts. Kim did not want to find any fingers.

‘Bloody hell, guv, how is tenacity not your middle name? I’d have been heading back down the hill ten minutes ago.’

She ignored him as she ripped open the plastic to get to the envelope. She didn’t have the time to run it by Mitch.

The envelope contained two items. First, the all too familiar card bearing the next clue.

‘“Locate the knots tied in the dark. Find my next by 3 p.m. or…”’ she read out.

The second item was a newspaper clipping from the day before. The headline screamed

JESSICA GETS A SECOND CHANCE

Kim growled. The bastard knew exactly what was at stake.

SEVENTY-SEVEN

NOON

‘No way in hell,’ Stacey said, hoping that Penn was going to ask. Although the boss had called in the next clue, she was so close to having a lead to an actual identity.

‘What?’ he said without looking up.

‘I may have the van he’s using.’

Penn looked at her dubiously, and she didn’t blame him. With so much data and so many different time frames and cameras to search, it had seemed highly improbable to catch the same vehicle in two of the locations she was targeting. But she had done it.

The vehicle in question was an old red Citroën van which had caught her attention the first time due to its ugly shape. To spot it again in the right time frame on another camera she was interrogating had to be more than a coincidence.

She tried to quell the excitement in her stomach. On neither of the cameras was she able to get a full registration number, so even if it was involved in the case, she could offer nothing yet.

But what she did know was that their killer had transported Hiccup from where he’d been tortured near Dunsley Hall to where he’d been tied to the train tracks.

She plotted the route from one point to another on the AA site. The fastest and most direct route was Bridgnorth Road to the Stourbridge ring road and then the A458 towards Old Hill.

There were cameras on the ring road, operated by Dudley Council.

She logged in and found the cameras she wanted. A couple of clicks and she was watching the ring road two hours before Hiccup was killed.

Due to the route, Stacey knew she was only going to see the rear of the vehicle, but the traffic was light at 4 a.m., and she’d easily be able to read the number plate.

She tapped her fingers, already knowing that if the vehicle didn’t show up, she had nothing.

Come on, come on, come on, she thought, and as if she’d willed it to appear, the ugly red Citroën van was right in front of her.

‘Bingo,’ she cried before her elation died.

The number plate was obscured.

At first she thought he’d maybe used a product called a stealth plate. It was a transparent polycarbonate cover that, while clear to the human eye, acted as a mirror in the infrared spectrum. But a second look told her that the deception was even better than that.

She suspected he’d somehow fixed LED lighting above and below the plate, meaning any camera would struggle to pick out the details due to the bright light.

‘Did you just shout a bogie?’ Penn asked.

‘Shout a what?’

‘It’s what they call if you shout house at the bingo but you’re wrong, and the game continues. It’s called a bogie.’

Aside from wondering where in his head Penn stored all this information, she appreciated the irony in his words.

Yes, the game continued, and it seemed like their taskmaster had thought of everything.

She played the footage back again and again, and each time she saw something different. All she could do was go frame by frame until she could work it out.

As the van got further away, the light became less dazzling. Just before it left the shot of the camera completely, Stacey could see that some of the LED lights on the top right of the number plate were out, meaning that just for one frame, she had the chance of making out part of the registration.

‘Hey, Penn, what’s the name for when you call house and it was a bogie, but then you call it again and this time you’re not wrong?’

‘Err… not a clue.’

‘Well, find out, cos I think I might have done that.’

SEVENTY-EIGHT

12.15 P.M.

‘Hey, Fred,’ Kim said when the litter-picker answered the phone.

‘Sorry, I was just giving Dad his meds.’

‘No probs,’ she answered, feeling a bit bad for disturbing him. ‘Listen, if it’s a bad time…’

‘No, no, it’s fine. Is there something I can help with?’

She knew he had a lot on his plate, but he had offered, and Kim had to wonder if assisting them afforded a welcome distraction from his troubles.

‘Probably a long shot, but I don’t suppose you know any of the registration numbers for the people at the litter-pick yesterday?’

Stacey’s work on tracking down a potential suspect was nothing short of miraculous. And Kim had to consider whether she’d walked right past their killer yesterday morning.

There was a pause.

‘Fred, you okay?’

‘Oh dear, I must admit that in all the excitement yesterday, I forgot to carry out our normal security checks with registration numbers.’

‘You list them all?’ Kim asked, surprised. That was more than she could have hoped for.

‘I don’t have to. I choose to. Not everyone is a volunteer. Some are here doing community service. You can’t organise these things irresponsibly, you know. We have to be so careful cos sometimes folks bring their kids, but in all the excitement, I forgot to do it yesterday. I can ring round everyone and get them, or⁠—’

He stopped speaking as though he’d had an idea. She hoped so because as much as she appreciated the offer, it would take too much time.

‘I have the list of licence plates from the last one six months ago, and it was pretty much the same people. I could send you that with the names of yesterday’s non-attendees crossed out. You can have that in the next ten minutes.’

Even that might be some help to her if most of the people had the same vehicles.

She accepted the offer, thanked him and ended the call only for her phone to ring immediately with a number she didn’t recognise.

‘Stone,’ she answered.

‘Okay, where is she?’ asked a gruff, impatient male voice.

‘Excuse me?’ Kim snapped back.

‘It’s Hamish Fitzroy, Frost’s boss. Where is she?’

‘Not a clue,’ Kim answered honestly.

‘Oh, and I didn’t appreciate your shout-out at the press conference. You think I won’t sack her because of that?’

‘If you had an ounce of decency, you wouldn’t,’ Kim shot back.

‘Well, luckily it’s not your call to make. If she turns up, let me know. I need to see her to fire her.’

‘Hang on, is that it?’ Kim asked.

‘She’s not answering her phone or emails and hasn’t logged on. To be honest, she doesn’t need me to fire her cos she’s kinda doing it to herself right now. So, as my dear old mom used to say about our cat, she’ll either turn up or she won’t.’

And with that little gem, the line went dead.

Kim liked to think that if she suddenly went dark, her boss and colleagues would put more effort than a couple of phone calls into finding her before they wrote her off.

She’d put more time into trying to find something in the laundry basket.

Not that it would be out of character for Frost to take off and have a good sulk.

Jesus, like she hadn’t got enough to do.

She scrolled to the number in her contact list and pressed call.

The number rang until eventually voicemail kicked in.

Oh, she could be stubborn sometimes, Kim thought, trying the number again.

Voicemail for the second time.

Kim checked her watch. It was around six hours since Frost had stormed out of the station, and it appeared no one had heard from her or spoken to her since.

Kim tried to push it out of her mind. Frost wasn’t her responsibility, and she was likely catching up on some much-needed sleep.

Yes, that was it.

But what if it wasn’t? Their sicko had made his instructions clear from the outset. He had wanted Frost involved, and he had wanted those regular updates. He had told them there would be consequences if the rules weren’t followed.

Kim wanted to give herself a slap as she turned to her colleague.

‘Bryant, head for Quarry Bank.’

SEVENTY-NINE

12.30 P.M.

‘Should we be concerned, do you think?’ Stacey asked, after relaying the boss’s intentions and waiting for the list from Fred.

‘Would we be concerned on any other day if Frost wasn’t answering her phone?’

Penn had a point. They wouldn’t even know. And yet.

‘He did make it clear that we were to follow his instructions, or someone would get hurt,’ Stacey said. That did sound like a threat.

Penn sighed. ‘Personally, I think that was a scare tactic. The whole thing made the national news, so her work was done.’

‘Numbers are still growing on the website,’ Stacey argued.

The Jester had posted the clue to the obelisk at one minute past twelve, and Stacey was ashamed to admit that many people had solved it within minutes, a damn sight quicker than they had.

And it was the next clue that Penn was working on right now, while she focussed on following where this partial registration number took her.

‘Hey,’ Penn said with a devilish wink. ‘Imagine if the boss broke in and found Frost taking a nice long soak in the bath.’

Despite the pressure they were under, Stacey laughed. She suspected the boss and the reporter would never view each other the same way again.

While she waited for the names and registration numbers from Fred, she put in a search for Steve Ashworth.

‘Any idea what’s going on with the boss and this guy from Sunrise News?’

‘Is he a suspect?’ Penn asked, raising his head.

‘Don’t think so, but he’s hanging around a bit.’

‘Why? Everyone else has moved on to bigger stories.’

‘Hmm…’ she said, scrolling through some of the top articles attached to his name. ‘Ahh, he’s a muck-raker by the looks of it.’

‘Stace,’ Penn said in his ‘leave me alone’ voice.

Stacey could take a hint and read on in silence. His bio said he’d risen through the ranks from nothing. He’d worked all the local rags around the Stoke-on-Trent area before writing articles for the Daily Mail. From there, he’d advanced to Sunrise News as a local correspondent. She could already see a pattern in his reporting and it wasn’t a pleasure to read.

Her email tinged a new message, and she was pleased to see it was from Fred. She minimised the search tab on Steve Ashworth, knowing the boss would expect the number plates to take priority.

‘Aha,’ she said, opening the email up.

The list he’d sent didn’t have make or model, just registration numbers.

She was looking for something that ended TYL.

Her gaze immediately went halfway down the page where those very initials were staring right back at her.

‘Hey, Penn, what did you find out about the litter-picker Peter Harris?’

Penn flicked to his list. ‘He was the one I highlighted for serious assault.’

Stacey felt a stir of excitement. ‘Can you pass me everything you’ve got?’

EIGHTY

12.35 P.M.

‘Well, the car’s here,’ Bryant noted as he parked right behind Frost’s Audi TT.

Where else would she have gone after the night she’d had? Kim wondered.

‘I swear, if she’s just catching up on some sleep, I’ll bloody kill her,’ she said as they approached the front door.

Not least because getting some sleep was exactly what they’d all love to be doing, she thought, acknowledging the smidgeon of resentment she had towards the reporter for bailing.

She banged on the door, making no effort to keep it polite. Frost was going to get strips torn off her for this.

No answer.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Kim said, moving along to the single window at the front of the terrace property. She didn’t have time to be messing around like this. If the woman had just answered her phone to her boss, they would never have come here.

She’d been in the house enough times to know the front door led straight into the living room, which led through to a kitchen and small bathroom. The back door opened onto a gated rear yard accessible from a narrow alleyway.

Annoyingly, Frost dressed her windows with net curtain instead of blinds. Being at the bottom of a busy high street, there wasn’t a lot of privacy from pedestrians, vehicles and buses, but the dense white fabric made it all the harder to look through the window.

Kim put her hands either side of her face as she peered in, trying to make out anything beyond the lace.

The first thing she saw was the laptop bag that Frost had brought with her to the station.

She repositioned herself and saw that Frost was sitting on the sofa with her head resting back on some kind of red pillow, sleeping soundly.

‘Oh, she’s getting it,’ Kim said, taking out her phone. ‘Bang that door again and keep at it,’ she instructed, ringing Frost’s number.

She peered back through the window and saw the phone on the sofa beside Frost lighting up.

No movement from Frost.

Okay, she might have put the phone on silent, but there was no way she could ignore the constant banging on the door.

Kim ended the call and looked again.

No hint of movement. None at all.

‘Bryant, I don’t like this,’ she said, moving away.

She sprinted to the end of the short terrace row and across the grass verge that separated the end house from the road.

By the time she entered the gulley, Bryant was right behind her.

She didn’t need to count the gates for the third one along. It was swinging open. That fact did nothing to quell the rising panic in her stomach.

The back door was ajar, and she burst through it, praying she was going to hear indignant protests from the reporter.

There was only silence.

Kim entered the front room and froze. What she had thought was a red pillow behind Frost’s head was the bloodstained sofa.

Other than the deathly pallor of her face, the woman appeared to be sleeping soundly.

The movement of Bryant reaching for his radio spurred her into action. She put two fingers to the right side of Frost’s neck to check her pulse.

‘It’s faint, but it’s there,’ she said to Bryant, who was already giving the address to the emergency services.

A wave of relief surged through her, but it was short-lived when she saw the back of the reporter’s head.

The blonde hair was matted with blood at the crown, but Kim couldn’t see the injury beneath the bloodstained hair.

She could picture it. Frost was wearing the same clothes she had been the last time Kim had seen her. The woman had returned home, dropped onto the sofa exhausted and hadn’t moved since.

Their killer had sneaked into the house and struck her, and Kim wasn’t sure from the position that Frost had even woken up. It could only be their sicko. He had been crystal clear that there would be repercussions if his instructions weren’t followed to the letter. She hadn’t posted an article at 6 a.m., and this was the price she’d paid.

‘Damn it, Frost,’ she muttered, touching the woman’s neck again. The pulse was still there, but she didn’t know for how long.

It was hard to imagine anyone surviving the blood loss she was seeing, but she did know that head injuries could bleed profusely. It was the damage beneath the wound that was a worry.

‘Jesus,’ Bryant said, shaking his head. She could see the exact same thoughts on his face.

‘Don’t cross her off yet,’ Kim said, taking a seat beside the reporter. She placed her fingers on the woman’s wrist to make sure they didn’t lose the faint pulse they had.

Part of her wanted to try and shake the woman into consciousness, but she was no doctor and had no idea of the consequences. If the banging and the ringing hadn’t roused her, she suspected there was nothing more she could do. Except one thing, she thought, pressing lightly on the wrist.

‘Frost, we’re here. If you can hear us, help is coming and we’re not leaving until they get here.’

She saw Bryant’s surprise at her tone. She too was amazed that she could muster it for Frost’s benefit. It was usually reserved only for when Barney was feeling unwell. But who knew if these would be the last words the woman would ever hear?

As she continued to speak softly, Bryant pointed to his ear and then the door to indicate he could hear sirens in the distance.

Kim nodded towards the door for him to go and flag them down.

‘You’re gonna be fine, Frost. You’re too annoying not to be,’ she said, hearing the sirens growing louder.

She continued talking until the paramedics walked in. They had eyes only for the woman on the sofa, and Kim knew that Bryant would already have filled them in.

The male paramedic’s studious frown said it all.

She let go of Frost’s wrist as he moved into position.

The second paramedic entered with Bryant behind.

‘It’s okay, Tracy,’ the woman said, taking Kim’s place at her side.

The sound of Kim’s phone ringing drew all eyes towards her.

For a moment, she’d forgotten they were investigating a murder and a kidnap.

They could now add attempted murder to the Jester’s list of crimes, and she didn’t want to think about whether that crime would reach its endgame.

‘Go ahead, Stace,’ she said, heading out of the room.

‘Got something, boss, the owner of a vehicle with a similar registration as the one I saw was at the litter-pick yesterday morning.’

Kim’s stomach turned. Oh, that was just too coincidental.

‘Great work, Stace. Text Bryant the address.’

She ended the call and stepped back inside as Inspector Plant pulled up. He would now take over the scene.

‘Next of kin?’ asked one of the paramedics.

‘Her mother, but I don’t have any details.’

‘We just need to call someone if anything… err… happens.’

She knew what he was trying to say, and she wasn’t going to mess about looking for contact numbers. Their priority should be getting Frost the help she needed.

Kim didn’t hesitate. ‘Then I guess you’d better call me.’

‘Getting a bit too involved, guv?’ Bryant asked.

‘What’s my choice? Would you prefer me to offer your number?’ she asked as a vehicle she didn’t want to see slid into the space in front of Bryant’s Astra.

‘You have to be joking,’ she said as Steve Ashworth headed their way.

Bryant had summoned urgent assistance using his radio. Damn the press with their bloody scanners.

‘You still here?’ she asked as he approached.

‘We’ve already had this conversation. More importantly, why did you lie?’

‘About what?’

‘Isn’t this the address of Tracy Frost, the local reporter working with you to catch the Jester?’

Kim said nothing as Inspector Plant stepped between them with the cordon tape.

‘Bit coincidental that something happens to her on the day she’s working with you. Something else for your conscience, Inspector?’

‘Get him out of here,’ she said to Planty.

Her colleague obliged by gently but firmly moving him along.

‘I’m not going anywhere, Stone. You’re stuck with me, and I’ll follow you until I’ve got your story.’

Not today you won’t, Kim thought as she beckoned Planty back.

He still had the cordon tape in his hand.

‘Down to and including that blue Toyota,’ she instructed. ‘And don’t let anyone leave.’

EIGHTY-ONE

12.50 P.M.

‘Okay, Penn, how do I avoid feeling like shit for calling her all sorts of names after she bailed on us?’ Stacey asked.

The boss had updated them on Frost’s condition once she was in the car heading away from Frost’s house.

‘You don’t cos I feel the exact same way,’ Penn answered. ‘So, we just say a few prayers and hope for a speedy recovery and the chance to buy her a pint when this is all over.’

‘Who’d miss you, Penn?’ Stacey asked. ‘I mean if you went off grid for a while.’

‘Jasper, Lynne, you lot, Aunt Edna up in Fife and I suppose a few of my buddies at the pub if I was gone long enough. You?’

‘Devon, my mom, you lot, three aunties and five cousins. Oh, and probably the Deliveroo guy.’ She paused. ‘So, how is it that we found Frost? I mean, we’re not friends, we’re not family and we’re not colleagues. By all accounts, even her boss made a call to our boss and then just washed his hands of her. On a scale of one to ten, how sad is that?’

‘Jeez, Stace, now I want to invite her for Christmas dinner.’

Stacey had the same sentiment. She hated to think of someone who had so few people who cared about her that she was found by a police officer who didn’t even like her. Though she knew that was a simplification of a complicated relationship, one which right now she didn’t have the time or skill to pick apart.

She just thanked God that the boss was as bloody-minded as she was. Who knew when Frost would have been discovered otherwise.

By that same token, she was hoping the boss was going to get something good out of Peter Harris about his van.

As for herself, there’d been one person on her mind for most of the last few hours. A person she felt hadn’t been given enough attention so far, since it was attention that he seemed to crave. Just like the Jester. While Penn was busy working on the clue, she was going to follow the boss’s instructions and look more closely at the people with something to gain.

There was no question in her mind that they lived in a fame-hungry era. There were families who had made billions from laying their lives bare for the public’s judgement, consumption, entertainment and even ridicule. There were individuals getting spin-off shows from reality TV shows that weren’t scripted but weren’t real either. Groups of supposed friends who didn’t see each other from one season to the next and then acted like they were friends when the cameras were rolling, just so they could create drama for the invested and voracious viewer.

Stacey knew this because she was one of those viewers, not for everything, but there were shows she enjoyed. Even she knew it had all gone too far. Now so-called celebrities were being plucked from shows to form new shows and then they appeared on even more shows, all because they lived in Essex or Chelsea, or they went to an island to find love. Except no one wanted love, and no one cared as long as there was enough drama to fill a ninety-minute episode.

It had developed into a culture. There were Instagram stars, TikTokers and YouTubers who were prepared to do anything for their fifteen minutes of fame.

And that’s why once she was finished with Steve Ashworth, she felt Jared Truss deserved another look.

EIGHTY-TWO

1.15 P.M.

The home of Peter Harris was unremarkable, Kim thought as they parked in front of a semi-detached redbrick property in Tipton. Although the plot of land on which it stood was more interesting.

It had once been the home of the Ocker Hill Power Station which when built in 1902 was intended to be the largest electric power installation in England. It never achieved that plaudit, and the last of it had been razed to the ground in 1985 to make way for housing.

Kim was trying hard to refocus on the job at hand and the person they needed to talk to, but the vision foremost in her mind was the bloodstain on the back of Frost’s sofa.

‘Ready?’ Bryant asked, switching off the engine.

‘Not really,’ Kim said honestly. There was a rage building inside her at the scene they’d just witnessed, and she didn’t know what to do with it. Left inside her, it would fester and grow and erupt from her, most likely at an undeserving victim. Even more likely at the colleague sitting beside her.

‘One sec,’ she said, taking out her phone.

She scrolled down her recent list and pressed call.

It was answered by a rough bark of a hello.

‘Found her,’ Kim said with false cheer.

She hoped those words alone would inform Hamish Fitzroy who was calling.

It did.

‘Well, I hope you passed on my⁠—’

‘I’d have loved to, but unfortunately she was unconscious and unresponsive due to someone breaking into her home and cracking her skull in.’

‘Hang on. Is she…?’

‘She’s on her way to Russell’s Hall Hospital, and they don’t know if they’ll be able to save her life. After the concern you showed earlier, I felt sure you’d want to know.’

‘Wait, wait…’

Kim ended the call and then blocked his number.

‘Better?’ Bryant asked.

‘Much,’ she answered, getting out of the car.

‘Don’t wanna burst your bubble, boss, but that vehicle we’re looking for ain’t on the drive.’

‘Shit, Bryant, I often wonder how I’d get by without you. I was thinking it was wearing an invisibility cloak.’

‘That wouldn’t even be funny on a good day,’ he moaned.

‘Neither would you telling me what I can see with my own two eyes,’ she said, knocking the door.

The man that answered was in his late thirties, slightly overweight with a shaved head. Kim vaguely remembered seeing him in the middle of the litter-picking crowd when she’d addressed the whole group.

The same recognition dawned on his face. ‘You’re that copper from yesterday.’

‘I am indeed. May we come in?’

He hesitated and shrugged before stepping back.

The house was clean and tidy but with few adornments.

As she followed him to the kitchen, she noted ones of everything; one pair of boots by the door, one winter coat hanging up, and yet there were framed photos on the wall of a threesome, himself with more muscle, an attractive wife and a girl around ten years old. None of the photos showed the girl any older than that.

Looking even closer, the photos were printed copies and not originals.

The photos continued into the kitchen, but still without any signs of the child ageing.

Peter Harris pointed to a small bistro table suitable for one person. A picture was starting to form.

She and Bryant took the uncomfortable chairs while the man leaned against the countertop and folded his arms.

Defensive already, Kim noted.

‘Everything okay, Mr Harris?’

Again, he shrugged.

‘You don’t seem pleased to see us.’

‘You’re police. Is anybody ever pleased to see you?’

‘Is now convenient? I mean if your wife is⁠—’

‘Not a problem. Now’s fine for whatever brings you here.’

Kim wanted to get to the van, but she was intrigued by his attitude and the photos of the child who never aged.

‘Lovely girl,’ Kim said, nodding towards one of the photos.

‘She is,’ he said without looking towards the wall.

‘She looks just like you. What year is she in?’

‘College,’ he answered.

‘Oh, sorry, I thought she was at junior school.’

‘She was the last time I saw her,’ he said bitterly.

‘Why’s that?’

‘Any reason you want to know?’

‘Any reason you don’t want to share?’ Kim said, holding his gaze.

After a full minute, he continued. ‘They left me. Or rather the bitch did and took my child.’

The flash of anger was intense. As though realising what he’d shown, he worked hard to loosen his facial muscles back to neutral.

‘How long ago?’ she asked pointedly.

‘Eight years. Not long after I got out of prison.’

‘Assault, wasn’t it?’ she pushed.

‘Like you don’t already know.’

‘I don’t know your side of it,’ Kim said, sitting back in the seat.

The move irked him. A flash of irritation tightened his jaw.

For some reason, the man did not want them in his house.

‘I was working, doing my job. It was Friday night in town. Usual madness and drunks, except for one guy who just wouldn’t back off.’

Kim knew he’d been a bouncer on the doors of a club in Wolverhampton in addition to his security job at the Mander Shopping Centre.

Bryant’s expression told her he thought they were wasting valuable time, but she disagreed. Whoever was pulling their strings had to have a reason, and they had to try and understand what their motivation might be.

‘Go on,’ she urged.

‘He was a damn nightmare all night. He got a rise out of me, so I became the entertainment for him and his buddies.’

‘What were they doing?’

‘Getting in my face, stepping on my toes, flicking my badge and calling me names. It sounds ridiculous, but after three hours of them keeping on, I pushed one of them, and he hit his head on the kerb. Permanent brain damage for him and five years in the slammer for me.’

She looked to the photos. ‘And that broke up the marriage?’

‘Oh yeah. She got a lot of shit after I went away. Abuse in the street, threats. I was given the nickname “the crippler” and she wasn’t gonna live her life attached to someone with that reputation,’ he spat.

‘Did you fight for your daughter?’

‘Of course, but the bitch got what she wanted. In the end, I gave up.’

‘Why?’

‘Cos the bitch kept dragging Emily to the court hearings. The poor kid was looking more and more distraught every time I saw her. I couldn’t keep doing that to her, so I walked away. I thought I’d get my chance when she was older. I set up social media accounts to find her. I did and I reached out. She blocked me. It’s done.’

‘Must have made you angry,’ Kim said.

He shrugged, but she could see the bitterness in his face.

‘Guess neither of them want an association with an ex-prisoner. The stigma is just too much for them both,’ he said. ‘And Emily is no better than her mother.’

Looking towards one of the photos, the rage in his eyes caused her to question his reasons for keeping the photos around. Were they a focus for vengeance? He had lost his family through their unwillingness to be linked to someone notorious. Was there a chance he wanted to make sure they would never be able to escape the stigma of being connected to a killer?

He turned those cold eyes back to her.

‘So now you know I’m a nobody with nothing, what else do you want to know?’

‘Your reasons for being in that litter-picking group.’

‘Against the law, is it?’

‘Just doesn’t fit if I’m honest,’ she said.

‘Just cos I don’t like coppers or them two,’ he said, nodding towards the photo, ‘doesn’t mean I hate everybody.’

She waited.

He rolled his eyes. ‘Jesus, do you want my soul? I had to do some community service after jail time. Litter-picking. I didn’t mind it. Felt like I was doing something useful.’

Listening to what he wasn’t saying, Kim got it. He was lonely. He’d lost everything: his profession, his family, his pride and likely most of his friends.

Volunteering at least gave him contact with other people.

‘Do you own a small Citroën van?’ Kim asked.

‘Used to,’ he said, frowning.

‘Until when?’

He shrugged. ‘About six months ago. Why do you wanna know?’

Not a question Kim was going to answer at this point.

‘You got rid of it?’

He nodded.

‘How?’

‘Scrapped it.’

‘Where?’

‘Some tatters yard in Brierley Hill.’

‘Which one?’ Kim asked. She knew them all.

‘Tompkins, I think.’

It had only been six months. Surely it wasn’t that hard to remember?

‘Yeah, yeah, Tompkins just off the high street.’

‘That’s Dickie Tompkins’s place, the one just past the waterfront?’

‘Yeah, that’s the one, over by the waterfront,’ he said, repeating her words.

‘You’re sure about that?’ Kim checked.

‘Yeah, that was the one. It failed the MOT, and I couldn’t be arsed to spend good money on it.’

‘What did he give you for it?’

‘I dunno, a hundred quid maybe.’

Kim was not convinced by his story, seeing as every answer appeared to be a guess.

‘You know they keep records?’ Bryant asked.

‘I’m sure some of them do,’ Harris answered, recrossing his arms.

Kim stood. ‘If he has no records, you’ll likely be seeing us again,’ she said, heading for the door.

‘Can’t bloody wait,’ he said, closing the door behind them.

‘What a charmer,’ Bryant observed as they walked to the car.

He was indeed, and she would have liked to haul him down to the station for formal questioning. She already knew he wouldn’t agree of his own free will, and she pictured the reason on the arrest warrant: the man had attended a litter-pick and might be the owner of a van that might have been involved in the case. Oh yeah, a judge would love that. Wasn’t gonna happen.

Her main question in relation to Peter Harris was whether he possessed the intelligence to pull this off. She wasn’t sure, but she did know that he was a man with nothing left to lose.

‘Bryant, for your own safety I suggest you get us to a coffee outlet fast, or I’m not going to be responsible for my⁠—’

She stopped speaking as her phone rang. ‘Go ahead, Stace,’ she said as Bryant pulled away from the kerb.

‘This reporter, boss. He’s bad news.’

The rolling sensation was back in her stomach. ‘Go on.’

‘Basically he’s a bully. He writes hit piece after hit piece. Started off exposing footballers’ affairs. Moved on to threatening to “out” high-profile public figures. His name was linked to the suicide of a young rugby player who wasn’t ready to share his sexuality with the world. In the last couple of years, he’s focussed his efforts on exposing political corruption, even had a pop at a few police officers.’

‘Personal life?’ Kim asked, wondering if that was the cause of his frustration.

‘Nothing I’ve found so far. Why the background check?’ Stacey asked.

‘No reason.’

‘Anything more you need? Cos there’s something else I wanna take a look at.’

‘That’s it for now,’ Kim said before ending the call.

She could understand Stacey’s eagerness to turn her attention to the task at hand. There was nothing that the constable had shared that Kim hadn’t already suspected about the man. Like Stacey was about to do, Kim resolved to put him out of her mind.

She was most likely worrying over nothing.

EIGHTY-THREE

1.50 P.M.

There was something about Jared Truss that Stacey didn’t like.

She’d now watched a few of his videos and there was a hint of smug, self-importance behind the winning smile. He was good-looking and engaging with the camera, but there was a touch of arrogance, mixed with a hunger for validation. Always asking viewers to post comments on the video and to let him know how much they enjoyed watching.

His videos were a mixture of ghost-hunting adventures and puzzle-solving treks.

She only watched a couple of the ghost-hunting ones as they weren’t the ones that interested her, but even if she hadn’t known they were fake, she would have guessed.

One video took place at a top-secret location. Apparently, the owners who had granted him permission to investigate had done so only if he didn’t reveal where it was.

Allegedly, the property, in the East Midlands, had been the location of a brutal murder/suicide involving a teenage couple who had first cut the throats of the elderly occupants. The video claimed that there had been rumours that the young couple had performed dark magic rituals before killing the owners.

The video had been full of bangs, taps, dark energy and terrified screams from Jared, ending, as they all seemed to, with passionate exclamations that it had been the most terrifying night of his life.

The comments were filled with statements of total belief and acceptance of his claims, even though he’d found what looked like old chalk marks of a pentagram on the stone floor of the boot room.

Chalk, still visible after fifty years.

His viewers clearly had no access to Google or they’d have known that the incident had never happened, and the house was an Airbnb property that he’d rented for the night.

She understood that he was making entertainment, but there was something inherently dishonest about allowing his viewers and fans to be hoodwinked.

Only one person in the comments had questioned the story’s authenticity, and that guy had pretty much been run out of town as a pile on of loyal fans had ensued.

Far more interesting to her, though, were the treasure hunt escapades. She’d now watched a few, and each episode was formulaic throughout.

The first clue outlined what lay ahead and the time needed to solve it.

The second clue came twelve minutes in.

The third clue came twenty-four minutes in.

The fourth clue, which contained a wow moment, was thirty-six minutes in, and so on.

Some clues were riddles, others were anagrams and some were just words that made no sense.

Every one ran to the same formula, and it was one that she recognised. It was a similar pattern they’d been following for the last thirty-one hours.

She was pretty sure Jared Truss was their Jester.

EIGHTY-FOUR

2 P.M.

Every time Kim looked at her watch, she saw the face of a little girl looking back at her.

A little girl who was likely going to die if they didn’t find Nazeera in time.

And here she was pissing about at a scrapyard chasing the only lead they had.

‘Second home for you?’ Bryant asked.

He knew how much she loved spending time round scrapyards searching for rare motorcycle frames and parts, but not particularly this one.

Dickie, the owner, dressed in a shirt and tie and slacks, which for some reason annoyed her. The scrap business wasn’t for folks in shirts and ties. It should mean tee shirts, sweatshirts, oil-stained jeans and dirty fingernails. It was as though Dickie was trying to give it a legitimacy that it just didn’t need, and that made him seem disingenuous and not totally honest.

She’d bought a few bits from him years ago, but she’d since found other dealers that she preferred to buy from.

Nevertheless, his face showed a hint of recognition when she walked in the door.

It took all her energy not to roll her eyes. The reception area had been altered since her last visit. It was painted in a pastel blue with a couple of soft chairs and a coffee table. There was a self-serving coffee machine on a dresser-type cupboard and even a little basket of pre-packed biscuits.

The whole thing offended her sense of what a scrapyard should look like.

‘Do I know you?’ Dickie asked as she approached.

‘We’ve met,’ she acknowledged, taking out her identification.

He frowned. ‘I don’t think I know you in that way. Hang on, you build bikes,’ he said, demonstrating an impeccable memory.

‘I do indeed. I need to check on a vehicle you bought around six months ago.’

Realising that was something he could easily help with, he took a ledger from beneath the desk. Despite the upgrade in decor, they still didn’t have a computerised system.

‘Allegedly, six months ago, so let’s also try the month before and the month after.’

‘Six months is a lot of entries.’

‘We’ll wait,’ Kim said, resting her elbows on the reception desk.

He opened the ledger at the beginning of March. ‘What am I looking for?’

‘A red Citroën van with a registration plate ending TYL.’

‘Okay,’ he said, using his finger to travel down the page.

Although Kim couldn’t see the detail of every entry, she could see that the records listed date, make, model, fee paid, action taken and then a final column for resale. Very few entries had any monetary amount listed.

Kim knew that at least ninety-five per cent of every car scrapped was recycled by law. Scrap dealers bought and sold metals that ended up at a remelt plant and were cast into recycled raw materials. Metals were bought and sold by weight. The most valuable item by far was copper.

She watched silently as March turned to April which turned to May.

Finally, he looked up. ‘Nothing.’

‘And every scrap vehicle makes it into the ledger?’

‘Of course. What are you accusing me of?’

‘Just saying there’s a lot of different handwriting in there. Not one member of your team could have made a quick sale for a few extra quid in his pocket?’

‘If he did, he wouldn’t be a member of my team.’

‘If you knew about it,’ Bryant interjected.

He offered them a look that said he knew everything that happened in his business.

‘Can you show me April again?’ Kim asked.

He sighed heavily before turning to the page and combing the entries again.

‘What’s that?’ she asked, pointing to an entry that had been Tippexed out and overwritten.

‘Probably a spelling mistake.’

‘Doesn’t explain why all the columns have been changed,’ Kim observed.

He shrugged. ‘I couldn’t tell you.’

‘I thought you knew everything that went on in your business,’ she said, tipping her head.

‘It’s Tippex,’ he replied, raising an eyebrow.

‘Is it possible that someone sold on the vehicle and covered it up?’

He shook his head. ‘They wouldn’t.’

Kim didn’t find that statement to be a compelling argument. People committed acts of theft in the workplace every day.

‘Do you remember the vehicle? Apparently it’s quite ugly and hard to forget.’

‘I don’t remember,’ he said without giving it any thought.

She paused for a second. ‘Dickie, how many people come in here on a daily basis?’

‘Dunno. Ten, twenty.’

‘Let’s give you the benefit of the doubt and say ten. I came in here a few times six years ago and you remembered me. I can’t be bothered to do the maths but…’

‘It was twenty-one thousand, nine hundred days ago,’ Bryant interjected. ‘Roughly.’

Kim ignored him and continued. ‘But you can’t recall if you bought an ugly old Citroën van just six months ago?’

‘Yeah, weird, eh?’

Kim continued to hold his gaze, but although he coloured, he only shrugged in response.

She turned and left the building.

Peter Harris said he no longer had the van, and Dickie the scrap man said he’d never taken ownership of it. One of them was lying. She just didn’t know which one.

And that was the sound of her one promising lead smacking into a brick wall.

Or was it?

She turned to her colleague. ‘Hey, Bryant, do you remember that time a few years back when I asked your advice?’

‘Yeah, I think so, but it was so long ago that I⁠—’

‘Well brace yourself cos I’m going to ask again.’

‘I think I know what’s coming. There’s an address burning a hole in your pocket and you want to ask if we should pursue it.’

‘Gold star for you. Do we go and see her and ask her to rake it all up again when it’s not even our case, with very little chance of being able to get justice for her, or do we leave it alone and assume that it has nothing to do with our sicko?’

‘Dangerous to make assumptions, guv,’ he said, demonstrating a change of heart from his earlier opinion.

She nodded her agreement. ‘Oh, Bryant, I do like when you offer good advice.’

He chuckled. ‘Especially if it agrees with what you were going to do anyway.’

For once, he wasn’t wrong.

EIGHTY-FIVE

2.15 P.M.

The house was a mid-terrace set back from the road, just six feet away from the sign announcing your arrival in Stourport-on-Severn.

Kim checked her watch before getting out of the car. Only forty-five minutes until the next deadline. Not for the first time she found herself praying that the rest of her team were going to come up with something soon. In the meantime, this was a lead she couldn’t afford to ignore.

The door was answered by a man in his mid-thirties wearing jeans and a tee shirt with the logo of an electrical company on it.

‘Mr Keene?’ Kim asked. It was the middle of the afternoon, but the man was at home.

He nodded.

‘Can we speak to Mrs Keene?’

‘About what?’ he asked, looking them over.

They produced their identifications. He took a good look.

‘You’re West Midlands, so I ask again, what is this about?’ he said, not budging an inch from the doorway. His tone wasn’t hostile, but it was definite and assured.

‘It’s about the sexual assault on your wife.’

‘Have you got him?’

She shook her head.

‘Then what’s the point in upsetting her?’

‘We think it might be connected to a case we’re working.’

He began to shake his head.

‘Mr Keene, we’d really like the chance to catch this bastard.’

He stood aside. ‘It’s up to her if she wants to talk to you or not.’

‘Fair enough,’ Kim said, stepping past him.

The man then held a hand up in front of Bryant. ‘Not you. Not a man she doesn’t know.’

‘Of course. I understand. I’ll wait in the car.’

Six months wasn’t a long time to find any sense of normality after such a traumatic event, but Kim wondered if any progress had been made at all.

That question was answered once she stepped into the room. On the wall right behind where Melissa sat was a photo of the three of them, clearly before the attack. Melissa, her husband and their daughter all looked happy and healthy. Kim understood that the child had been seven at the time of the attack so the photo hadn’t been taken that long ago.

Melissa turned haunted eyes towards her husband. ‘Dave?’

‘Police officer, love. Here to talk about the attack.’

Desperate hope lit up her eyes. ‘Have you found him?’

Kim shook her head as she took a seat directly opposite the woman and her photo. The two-dimensional image on the wall held far more life and vitality than the flesh-and-bone version before her. And that’s exactly what she was: flesh and bone and a whole lot less of it than there had been before the attack. The contrast between the two was striking.

The hope died in Melissa’s eyes, and her gaze shifted to the floor. In her mind, it clearly didn’t matter what she was here for. If it wasn’t to say they’d caught her attacker, then it wasn’t important.

‘May I call you Melissa?’ Kim asked.

She nodded without looking up.

‘Melissa, we suspect your attacker might be linked to a case we’re working. I hate having to ask, but could you talk to me about what happened?’

Melissa shook her head.

‘Okay, no problem,’ Kim said. She had sworn to herself before stepping into the house that she wouldn’t push the woman into doing anything.

‘Hang on, love. What if it could help them catch him?’ Dave said.

‘Could it?’ Melissa asked with fresh hope.

‘I can’t promise,’ Kim said honestly. ‘But I’ll certainly give it my best shot.’

‘Where do you want me to start?’ Melissa asked.

‘I know that you were following a trail from the Little Trekkers website, so if you can start there…’

‘I’ll just put the kettle on. Inspector?’

He didn’t want to make a drink, and she didn’t want one, but he obviously also didn’t want to be in the room while Melissa retold her experience.

‘Coffee, black no sugar,’ she said.

Melissa breathed a sigh of relief that he’d left the room. ‘Crazy, isn’t it? I actually want to apologise that the thought of it makes him uncomfortable.’

‘He cares about you,’ Kim offered.

‘I know. That’s why he’s home from work. I have a dentist appointment later this afternoon. I can’t go on my own. I don’t go anywhere on my own.’

Kim nodded her understanding.

‘It’s because he’s still out there. He could be anyone. He could be anywhere. He could be watching me or waiting to get me again, and I wouldn’t know it.’

And that was the problem for cases that went unsolved. There was no full stop. No new paragraph or chapter. No point at which you could start a new sentence.

‘I really appreciate you talking to me, Melissa. Would it be easier for me to ask questions or…?’

‘I’ll tell you what I remember in the order I remember it.’ She took a breath. ‘We’d found the first clue, and Charlotte was full of beans. She was excited to find the next because she thought there might be treasure in it. We were walking across a field to a small wooded area. We’ve been there before. It’s only about fifty metres square and then you’re back on the road. We were maybe a few metres in when I heard a sound behind me. Before I had a chance to turn, a bag had been put over my head. One of those hessian shopping bags with handles that tie.’

She took another few breaths before continuing.

‘It happened so fast. Suddenly, I was on the ground and the breath had been forced from my body. I don’t know if he hit me in the chest or if he had his knee on top of me, but all I can remember is Charlotte screaming and me shushing her. I was frightened that if she didn’t shut up, he would kill her.

‘He got my trousers down and was inside me. All I could think was to stay as quiet as I could. I didn’t cry and I didn’t scream. Not with my daughter there. She was terrified enough.’

Kim’s heart ached for the bravery of this woman.

Even then she’d been trying to ensure her child wasn’t scarred forever.

‘It’s strange how your priorities change,’ she continued. ‘Don’t hurt me. Okay, hurt me but don’t rape me. Okay, rape me but don’t kill me. Do anything you want but just don’t hurt my child.’

‘You did everything you could to protect her.’

‘I’m not sure it made a difference. Little sweetheart won’t leave my side when she gets home from school. I think she’s trying to protect me.’

‘Or heal you,’ Kim offered.

A devastated expression flitted over Melissa’s features. As though she knew the effect her failure to engage was having on her family.

Kim could see that Melissa was drifting away from the memory and that it might be better to ask questions.

‘Did he speak at all?’

‘Not one word,’ Melissa said, shaking her head.

‘Not even once he’d finished?’

‘No. He just got up and ran away. I heard his footsteps on the twigs. I ripped the bag off my head, but he was gone. I grabbed Charlotte and soothed her, and then as soon as I could speak, I called Dave. He contacted the police, and they all arrived at around the same time.’

‘Did you feel his skin at all?’

‘It was smooth,’ Melissa said with a look of surprise. As though she hadn’t realised that before. ‘No one asked me that, but his hands were definitely smooth.’

‘Any idea of weight, build?’

‘I couldn’t say for certain. In my mind, for some reason he’s tall and slim, but I don’t have any idea of age. The only thing is that smell.’

‘Smell?’

‘I told the other officers that I didn’t think it was a young man. I know the aftershave he was wearing. My uncle used to love Old Spice. I bought him a bottle every Christmas. I know that smell,’ she said, shuddering.

‘Would Charlotte be able to describe him?’ Kim asked. Nothing had been mentioned about officers speaking to the child.

Panic filled her eyes. ‘No, no, no, no, no, that’s not happening. I won’t allow… no… you can’t…’

‘Okay,’ Kim said, reaching over to touch her arm reassuringly. She could feel the tension emanating from her.

‘I’d go through it a hundred times to stop her having to remember it once. Did you know that when you remember a traumatic event, your body relives it so you get the same emotions all over again? You think I’d do that to her? Never.’

Kim nodded her understanding. This woman would do anything to save her daughter any further pain, and she had to respect that.

She decided to change direction.

‘Is there anything you can tell me about the trail that you followed?’

Realising the danger of involving Charlotte had passed, Melissa visibly relaxed. ‘Like what?’

‘Was there anything different about the post on the website?’

‘Sorry if I’m being dense, but I really don’t get your meaning.’

‘Was the clue cryptic? Did you recognise the person who posted the puzzle? Did it stand out for any reason?’

‘Officer, I was just looking for something fun to do on a Saturday morning while Dave was working overtime. I can’t remember the clue, the wording or the person that posted it.’

‘Had you used that particular site before?’

‘Many times. It was free, and Charlotte loved the adventure part of…’

Her words trailed away as the inevitable happened. The joy that had lit up her face while talking of something her daughter enjoyed was replaced with fear as she travelled right back to the attack.

Kim felt the ball of sadness in her stomach clench. She was gaining very little for the pain she was causing, but she had to give it one last try.

‘Is there anything else at all you can remember?’

‘I don’t think so.’ She paused. ‘Inspector, tell me honestly, do you think he’ll ever be caught?’

Kim owed her nothing but honesty. ‘I really don’t know, but we have his DNA, so if he comes anywhere near the system, we’ll have him.’ She sighed. ‘I hope we do. You deserve to start your life again.’

‘I do try. We went out, about a month ago. Just me and Dave. And then I smelled it. That damn aftershave. Full on panic attack. Ambulance and everything. I haven’t left the house since.’

Kim took a card from her inside pocket. ‘If you think of anything else, or if I can help with anything at all, call me, okay?’

‘Thank you. I appreciate you being honest with me.’

‘I’ll let myself out,’ Kim said, nodding towards the door to the kitchen and Dave, who had never reappeared with the coffee she hadn’t wanted.

She got in the car and rubbed at her forehead.

‘Rough in there?’ Bryant asked.

‘More for her than me. She’s not living. She’s existing, and that’s unlikely to change until the bastard who raped her is found.’

‘Do you think it could be our guy?’

‘Still don’t know but I bloody well hope so. And if it is, remind me to kick him in the balls. Twice.’

EIGHTY-SIX

2.25 P.M.

Penn was growing to hate their trickster more and more with every passing minute.

It wasn’t enough that he had brutally tortured a helpless and vulnerable man before ending his life. The man had now kidnapped a heart surgeon. A woman who saved lives on a daily basis. What kind of person did that? he wondered.

He knew that if they didn’t bring the doctor home, their team would not look the same tomorrow. Their performance would be picked apart and analysed as the higher-ups looked for somewhere to place the blame.

They all knew who would be first in line.

There were many reasons to hate their sicko, but Penn had one more on top.

He had never felt so stupid in his life. Normally he loved puzzles and logic and cryptic clues, but this guy was making him feel that he should never have been given his degree.

It didn’t help that for the last hour and a half, all he’d heard beyond the protection of his headphones were the ridiculous, incessant shrieks from the stupid YouTube guy.

‘Stace, what am I missing?’ he asked, conceding defeat. They now had only forty minutes to solve this clue and find the next before he published it.

‘“Locate the knots tied in the dark,”’ he said out loud.

‘Knots, tied, dark,’ she called out, pausing her current video.

‘Oh yeah, I know all about knots. Wikipedia sent me down a rabbit hole. Did you know that a knot is an intentional complication in cordage which may be practical or decorative or both?’

Stacey raised an eyebrow.

‘There are bends, loops, hitches, splices. A knot may also refer to a stopper or knob at the end of a rope to keep it from slipping through a grommet or eye. There is also an area of mathematics known as knot theory.’

‘Okay, Penn, you’re working better on me than a tranquilliser dart at the minute.’

Oh, he had so much more.

‘How about knot as in speed?’ Stacey asked. ‘You know how he likes to mess with the words.’

Penn had already checked that one. ‘A knot is a unit of speed equal to one nautical mile per hour. Can’t link that to anything else in the area cos we’re a hundred miles from the sea.’

‘Smaller boats also measure speed in knots, and we have rivers and canals and – hang on, run those types of knots by me again.’

‘Bends, loops, splices, hitches…’

She looked up to where he’d written the clue on the board.

Penn felt a rush of pure relief when a smile started to form on Stacey’s face.

‘Oh, Penn, I think the next drinks are on you. Get the boss on the phone. Now.’

EIGHTY-SEVEN

2.30 P.M.

‘Stone,’ Kim answered shortly to the unknown caller ringing her. If it wasn’t a member of her team calling her with the next location or the identity of their sicko, then this call was no good to her. Not with just half an hour left to go.

There was a brief silence as though the person on the other end was unsure if they’d got the wrong number.

‘It’s Mr Wilson, neurosurgeon from Russell’s Hall. Is that the next of kin of Tracy Frost?’

‘No,’ Kim answered as her heart jumped into her mouth.

‘Oh, I have this number…’

Kim recovered quickly. Why was the surgeon trying to call Frost’s next of kin? ‘Sorry, that’s to say I’m the contact if you can’t reach her next of kin, her mother.’

Kim knew Frost had a complex, fractious relationship with her mother, but she was sure the woman would want to know what was going on with her daughter.

‘I have no note of any other contact number, so…’

‘Is she okay?’

‘We don’t know yet,’ he said in his gentle voice.

She was just glad he hadn’t pressed on their relationship. She wasn’t sure he’d be divulging any medical details if she admitted they could barely exchange a civil word.

‘She’s just come out of surgery. We’ve done all we can to relieve the pressure on the brain, but she has fallen into a coma.’

‘What does that mean?’ Kim asked.

His hesitation told her she wasn’t going to get a definitive answer.

‘We honestly don’t know. It may be that her brain is doing what it needs to protect itself and recover from the trauma, or it may be slowly shutting down.’

‘And there’s no surgery you can do to prevent that?’ Kim asked.

‘I’m sorry, we’ve done as much as we can for now without risking further trauma. We’ll know more in a few hours.’

‘Okay, thanks for the call,’ she said and waited for him to disconnect.

Kim took a few breaths before recounting the surgeon’s words to her colleague.

‘Not sure what else we can do for her now, guv,’ he said.

‘We can catch the bastard responsible is what we can do. But for that we need⁠—’

She stopped speaking as her phone rang.

It was Penn, and it was answered immediately.

‘Please tell me you have something.’

‘Thanks to Stacey I do,’ he said.

She waited.

‘Boss, start heading towards the Tipton portal of the Dudley Canal.’

Jesus Christ, where was their sick bastard sending them now?

EIGHTY-EIGHT

2.45 P.M.

Kim checked her watch as they got out of the car at the entrance to Dudley Canal and Caverns on the Birmingham New Road.

Followed closely by Bryant, she rushed through the visitors’ centre, flashing her badge at the young girl behind the desk. Bryant took a second to explain who they were as she exited the building on the canal side.

The Tipton portal was the entryway to Dudley Tunnel, the second-longest navigable canal tunnel in the UK at 2,900 metres. But it wasn’t the tunnel she was interested in.

It was a cavern the Dudley Tunnel led to.

The Singing Cavern was a limestone mine. It had opened to the public in 1985, when a new tunnel was built to join it to the main Dudley Tunnel.

The Tipton portal was the main entrance for the numerous barge tours running throughout the day. The area was alive as people milled around the gift shop and the waterside gallery.

Kim sprinted past The Gongoozler café and approached the first barge at the front of the line.

‘I need to get to the Singing Cavern,’ she said urgently.

The man standing on the barge shook his head. ‘Not happening, love.’

She took out her ID and all but shoved it in his face.

He shook his head again. ‘Still not happening, Inspector. There’s a wedding. Two lovely ladies are tying the knot down there, so the tours have stopped.’

Kim knew it was a wedding venue, but she didn’t realise the tours paused to accommodate the events.

‘Should be able to help you out in about twenty minutes.’

Kim took out the newspaper clipping the Jester had left for them. ‘See this little girl? She hasn’t got twenty minutes. I ain’t got the time to explain, but do you or the ladies getting married really want that on your conscience?’

She thrust the clipping towards him to give him a better look. Harsh but necessary.

He needed no further convincing.

‘Get on.’

By the time she stepped on the barge, Bryant had caught up with her.

She expected them to pull off at speed, now the operator understood the gravity of the situation.

The barge started moving slowly towards the tunnel.

‘Can you speed it up a bit?’ she called out.

‘Now that I can’t do. Top speed of four miles an hour. Gonna be fifteen minutes till I can get you there.’

‘There’s no other way?’ she asked, knowing it was a pointless question. The bastard had done this deliberately to slow them down.

‘It’s underground caverns and tunnels – ain’t no bus route,’ he said before laughing at his own joke – and then sobered as he seemed to remember the reason for the trip.

After what seemed like an hour of travelling, the barge entered the Singing Cavern, which was surprisingly well lit. There was enough light at least for her to see that every pair of eyes in the place was facing her way and guests were mumbling to each other about the intrusion.

Kim stepped off the barge the second it stopped moving. It felt like she’d arrived at a really important moment, but then again, was there any good moment to crash a wedding?

‘Folks, happy couple, I’m sorry for the disturbance, but we’re police officers, and it really is necessary. We’ll be out of your way as quickly as possible.’

The brides dropped each other’s hands and looked towards their guests, obviously wondering which one had brought the police to their wedding, or if it was some kind of joke.

Kim focussed on the job at hand and wondered how the hell the two of them were going to search this place.

Simple, they weren’t.

The intrusion into the couple’s special day was done now. It wouldn’t be the story they’d share with their kids and grandkids, but she could give them another one.

By her count, there were around thirty extra pairs of hands at her disposal.

‘Folks, we’re trying to find something very important that might help us save a child’s life. It might be a tin box or even just an envelope. Could everyone just have a look around their area for anything out of place?’

The guests all stared towards the not-so-happy couple.

Realising this was no joke, they both nodded and started looking themselves.

‘And here’s another thirty potential complaints,’ Bryant muttered as they too began to search.

There was a low murmur of voices as people looked under their chairs and around where they’d been sitting.

Strangely, Kim couldn’t help noticing the number of people dressed in full wedding attire, including hats, for a marriage that was taking place underground.

‘Is this anything?’ asked a woman wearing a floral-patterned dress. She was holding up what looked like a slip of paper.

‘It was under a stone by my handbag,’ she continued as Kim headed towards her.

She doubted it was what they were looking for. It was no bigger than an address label.

She thanked the woman and took it from her.

It contained a collection of numbers and letters that made no sense.

She looked around the cavern. It appeared that everyone else was coming up empty.

She knew the clue would have to be obvious. He would be wanting them to find it. Would he really have left them something that could have been kicked out of sight by anyone?

More and more heads were turning towards her and indicating a negative result.

It looked like this had to be it, but what the hell did it mean? She turned the piece of paper over, and there was the confirmation. Written on it were the words:

You just landed on the head of the snake.

Kim offered an apology and a thank you before getting back on the barge.

She was pleased to see everyone assuming their previous positions, ready to continue the ceremony. Kim hoped they hadn’t ruined the big day too much.

She knew there would be no phone coverage for the twenty minutes it would take to get off the barge so there was absolutely nothing more she could do.

‘Co-ordinates,’ Bryant said, taking a look at the paper before they entered the tunnel.

‘Do you know anything about them?’

‘Guv, I could fill this journey with how much I don’t know about co-ordinates. All I can remember from school is that you go along the corridor and up the stairs.’

‘Bryant, the shit that comes out of your⁠—’

‘It means you should follow the X axis first and then the Y.’

‘Strangely, that’s not a great deal of help. Why give us a clue about a snake as well as co-ordinates?’ she asked, putting the paper back in her pocket. ‘If that’s leading us to the next clue, why is he not making us work so hard for this one?’

‘Not sure, except for the fact he does whatever he pleases.’

Kim agreed. She remained silent for the rest of the journey, her mind full of thoughts of Nazeera Khan and Jessica Styles.

The second she jumped off the barge, she took out her phone. It was answered quickly.

‘Stace, how do I find out where a set of co-ordinates will take me?’

Kim could hear Stacey typing in the background.

‘Google Maps will plot it for me,’ Stacey said. ‘Call them out.’

Kim’s heart was beating fast. It was almost three thirty and she was praying this was going to be Nazeera’s location. If not, they were running out of time. The game somehow ended at seven, and she had no idea how many more hoops they had to jump through before then.

‘Well, that can’t be right,’ Stacey said.

‘He also said we’ve landed on the head of the snake, if that helps,’ Kim offered.

‘Shit. He’s talking snakes and ladders. Landing on snake heads sends you backwards. Makes perfect sense.’

Kim’s heart sank. ‘Where is it?’ she asked, not liking the note of defeat that had crept into the constable’s tone.

‘Right here. It’s the co-ordinates for the station.’

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Kim shouted, almost throwing her phone to the ground.

They were back to square one. The last thirty hours had been for nothing. He’d had them trawling all over the Black Country and it had got them nowhere.

If he wanted her pissed off, he was doing a damn good job.

She took a breath. ‘Okay, Stace, we’re on our way back.’

‘No, don’t do that. Me and Penn will search around here. I might have something else. I think Jared Truss is worth another chat, and these are the reasons why.’

EIGHTY-NINE

3.35 P.M.

‘I mean where do we even start?’ Penn asked as they headed down the stairs.

‘Anywhere from the secure point outwards. Ain’t nobody getting past Jack,’ Stacey said as they headed into reception.

‘And to what do I owe this pleasure?’ Jack asked as they started to look around. ‘Lost something?’

‘Any strangers been in here today?’ Penn asked.

‘Err… no, just my mates been to visit today. Of course we’ve had strangers in. About bloody thirty of them.’

Stacey ignored his sarcasm. ‘Anyone leave anything behind?’

‘Well, as it happens, this really dodgy guy came in and left a duffel bag in the corner. As per my training, I cordoned off the area and called the bomb squad. Can’t believe you didn’t hear it all.’

‘Jack,’ Stacey persisted.

‘Fine. What kind of thing do you mean?’

And that was the problem. After what the boss had told her about the sticker-sized clue at the canal, she had no idea what they were looking for.

Having lost interest, Jack turned back to his computer.

Penn was overturning the chairs to ensure there was nothing on the underside.

‘Gotta be outside,’ Stacey said after checking the notice board to ensure there was nothing that shouldn’t have been there.

They headed through the automatic doors. Stacey turned right, and Penn turned left.

Fifteen minutes later, after checking every inch of the car park and the pavement that ran the length of the premises, they met up back in front of the building.

Penn held out a hand filled with crisp packets, chocolate wrappers and a few scraps of paper that looked like discarded receipts.

‘Picked up every bit of rubbish I saw just in case.’

‘Me too,’ Stacey said as they placed their offerings on the wall.

After checking every item, they agreed that there was nothing that had been left by their killer and put the rubbish in the bin.

‘What now?’ Stacey asked, looking back towards the building.

‘It’s here somewhere,’ Penn said. ‘He may have changed the rules, but he hasn’t outright lied to us yet.’

‘It can’t be. Perhaps he put something somewhere and it’s been picked up.’

‘He would have allowed for that. He had to be sure that it stayed here or made its way— Hang on,’ Penn said before rushing back into reception.

‘Okay, Jack, you said plenty of strangers. Any of them hand in any lost property?’

‘Actually, a woman handed in a bag she found by the bushes over there.’

He nodded towards the furthest point away from the building.

‘It’s nothing special, and there’s no identification or money in it. Most likely someone dumped it, but I’ve got it just there in case the owner realises they lost it and fancies a board game tonight,’ he said, nodding towards the end of his desk.

‘Pass it here,’ Penn said, holding out his hand.

Jack shrugged and did so.

They both peered inside. The only thing it contained was Scrabble tiles. But there was no doubt in Penn’s mind. Somehow, this was their next clue.

NINETY

4 P.M.

Jared showed them into his room for the second time. His landlady and fierce protector appeared to be nowhere in sight.

Kim wasn’t sure if he was surprised to see them or not.

Unlike the last time, Kim made a beeline for the gaming chair that nestled into the half-circle desk.

Bryant chose to stand, forcing Jared to take a seat on the bed.

Sometimes power dynamics were everything.

‘I think you know why we’re here,’ she said, chancing her arm that he’d just admit the whole thing.

‘Because you couldn’t resist my charm and good looks,’ he said with a cheeky grin that probably translated better through the lens and was completely lost on her.

‘No,’ she said flatly.

She held his gaze and waited a full minute before speaking again. It was long enough to see one of his nervous tells. His thumb tapped against his index finger as he waited for her to speak.

‘You been watching the news?’

‘Not much,’ he said.

The tapping paused and then resumed.

‘Did you know we’ve been chasing our tails around the Black Country after someone who is really starting to piss us off?’

He nodded but said nothing.

‘Trouble is, Jared, this thing has your fingerprints all over it.’

He wasn’t as surprised as he should have been but recovered quickly. ‘Thousands of people… okay, maybe not thousands, but a lot of people can make great trails.’

‘Yeah, but I have it on good authority that there’s a rhythm to these things, almost like a signature.’

Again, he shrugged, but the finger tapping was getting erratic.

‘You do know that an innocent man was tortured and killed?’ she snapped.

The finger tapping stopped.

‘B-But I didn’t… I mean I didn’t kill any⁠—’

‘Oh, Jared, it’s all fun and games until it’s not. I watched as a man was splattered across a train line because we were ten seconds away from saving him. Or rather what was left of him after our guy sent pieces of him back to us throughout the day.’

Most of the colour had dropped from Jared’s face.

‘How much trouble am I in?’

‘Did you do it?’

He shook his head.

‘Then not as much trouble as you could be. Best get to telling me the truth.’

He sprang up from the bed. ‘May I?’

She moved out of the way, now happy to sit on the bed.

If she was honest, she hadn’t had much hope of turning up anything here, but Stacey’s tenacity and gut instinct had paid off again. She just hoped it was enough to catch the killer before he had a chance to do it again.

‘I received an email. I don’t know who from. It was something like Jester and some numbers. If I remember rightly, he just wanted to play a bit of a prank.’

‘He told you it was aimed at the police, didn’t he?’

Jared hesitated before nodding as though still trying to calculate his culpability.

‘I didn’t think he was going to hurt someone,’ he defended himself as the printer to his left kicked into life.

He passed her the sheet of paper and then had the grace to look shamed.

Kim’s level of sympathy was evident in her next words.

‘It never occurred to you to let us know?’

‘I really didn’t know what was going to happen. I thought it was for a bit of a prank. I thought you’d have him in a couple of hours. And then I could see it was getting serious and I just wanted to stay out of it.’

Kim offered him a hard stare.

‘He just told me the places and asked me to write a clue to match them.’

And there it was. All the clues they’d found so far. All written by Jared. The list ended with the clue for the canal.

‘What’s next?’ she asked.

Jared shrugged. ‘That’s all he wanted. Said he’d take care of the rest himself.’

So, he’d wanted to put them back to square one at the station. He’d always known how it was going to end.

‘You gave him everything,’ Kim said, reading the notes below. ‘Absolutely bloody everything.’

Give a time frame for sense of urgency.

Give a good reason to keep interest.

Leave incentives to continue.

Use audio and video props.

Build in a halfway shocker.

Increase pace/urgency.

Make final prize more valuable and worth completing the trail.

‘Why? What was in it for you?’

He hesitated before answering. ‘I was flattered, I suppose. He said a lot of nice things. Said I was the best. I thought it was just a harmless joke. I didn’t know what he was going to do, I swear.’

Kim believed him, but she didn’t care.

‘He followed your instructions to the letter. His second victim is a heart surgeon due to save a child’s life in a few hours.’

Horror contorted his features.

‘Is there anything else you can tell us?’

‘There’s nothing, I swear,’ he said as his eyes filled with tears.

She said nothing more as she got up and left the room.

‘I think you got your point across, guv,’ Bryant said as they reached the car.

‘Good.’

‘He’s just a⁠—’

‘Don’t say it. He’s not a kid. He’s in his mid-twenties, and he’s part of the reason we’re in this mess. He’s an arrogant little shit who couldn’t help but flaunt his expertise and knowledge while knowing it was going to be used against the police.

‘I’ll bet there’s a YouTube video declaring himself involved in this before the day is out too. But you haven’t even realised what just happened in there.’

He waited.

‘That revelation has just blown this whole thing wide open. If our guy isn’t even in it for the fascination of the game, what the hell is he trying to achieve? Knowing Jared wrote the clues just widened our suspect list. Up until now, we’ve been able to discount individuals based on the level of intelligence needed to pull this off, but the brains of the operation is back there. Jared wrote a playbook, Bryant, which could be followed by fucking anybody. We can’t even say it’s someone interested in the hobby. Our only chance now lies with Stacey and the rainforest of paper she’s trying to wade through. If she finds nothing, we’re fucked, and Jessica Styles is probably gonna be dead before we’ve even cleared our desks.’

NINETY-ONE

4.30 P.M.

‘Bloody hell, just when I think I’m getting somewhere, the paperwork changes to something else,’ Stacey said.

She’d taken a cursory look through all four boxes supplied by Seekers to see if she could discern any kind of organisation at all. She’d found the exact opposite. It seemed like Ryan Douglas had printed everything he could find, thrown it all into the air and then put it all back into boxes.

Out of all this data, she wanted only one thing. The payment details of the account named Jester674.

She gave her tired eyes a brief rest and glanced over at Penn. ‘Anything from those Scrabble pieces?’

‘Not yet,’ he said, rearranging the tiles. She’d never been any good at board games, so it hadn’t been too difficult to decide who was doing what job.

He had the tiles laid out in a line across the length of his desk.

She stretched her legs and went to go look over his shoulder.

She counted twenty-seven letters: LCTEYGMHNCTOLISMVUEAUNIUBKR.

‘No chance,’ she said, quickly taking herself back to her chair. It was worse than any conundrum she’d ever seen on Countdown, and she’d never been very good at those.

‘Doesn’t help that I don’t know what I’m looking for. There are a lot of letters there for a place, so is it an instruction? Is it another twisted clue?’

‘Penn, I honestly wish I had something useful to offer.’

‘Story of my life with this case,’ he muttered under his breath.

She knew he was beating himself up for not getting the clues as quickly as he would have liked. Hiccup had died, and now the stakes were even higher. Not because Hiccup had been homeless, but because they now had two lives on the line.

She wished she had the time to reassure him, but this case seemed to have made them all feel inadequate. She was fighting the frustration of not being able to put her hands on the one piece of information she needed.

Every minute that passed put the life of a little girl in greater danger, and she just needed that one piece of paper that would break this case.

‘Oh, shit,’ she cried, picking up a single sheet and staring at it to make sure she wasn’t mistaken.

‘I’ve got it,’ she said, waving the page at Penn. ‘I have the identity of Jester674.’

NINETY-TWO

5.20 P.M.

‘But why?’ Bryant asked as she pounded on the door for the second time.

‘You saw how angry he was with his ex-wife and daughter because of the shame of being connected to him. He was rejected, and now he’s making them pay. Imagine having any link to him now?’

‘You think he wants to be caught?’ Bryant asked before banging again.

‘I think he wants to be known,’ she said, taking a step back and looking at the house.

Stacey’s revelation that Peter Harris was the man behind it all had stunned her.

Initially, their main suspects had been Jared, who wanted to be famous at any cost; Eric, who wanted to win the bitter rivalry between himself and Jared; and Ryan Douglas, who she had suspected wanted to drive up subscription numbers. Since finding out that all the hard work had been done by someone else, the field had been open for their killer to be anyone they’d been in contact with. And they knew they’d been watched at the litter-pick. Peter Harris made sense. He’d engineered it so that he would be there right from the beginning. He’d lied about the van he’d owned and obviously had it stashed somewhere.

‘All locked up by the looks of it, guv,’ Bryant said, reading her thoughts.

She was about to check round the back when the door of the next-door property opened.

‘What the devil is all this commotion? I can’t hear my telly.’

A woman in her late fifties was glaring at them over the unkempt hedge.

Kim held up her identification.

The woman came closer and peered at it. ‘You here to arrest him?’

‘For what?’ Kim asked.

‘Dunno. Anything will do. He gives me the creeps. He’s been inside before, and I reckon he’s up to no good.’

Kim wasn’t keen on such generalisations, but on this occasion, it looked as though she was right.

‘Cats have been turning up dead round here. Gotta be him. There was a burglary around the corner last month. I bet⁠—’

‘Have you seen him recently?’ Kim asked, cutting her off before she blamed him for every crime in a three-mile radius. Right now, she was only interested in what he’d done with Nazeera Khan.

‘Yeah. I saw him about an hour ago. He locked up and put a large suitcase in the heap of junk he drives. Right bloody eyesore.’

‘The red van?’

She shook her head. ‘Nah, not seen that one for a while, but this one’s just as bad. Old white Escort. Probably not even legal.’

‘You say he had a suitcase?’

‘Yeah, a big one. Looks like he plans on being gone some time.’

Kim nodded her understanding and walked away.

She doubted Peter Harris had the funds to take an extended trip. And according to him, he had no family and few friends. So if he wasn’t travelling, what else might he have put in that suitcase?

NINETY-THREE

5.45 P.M.

‘Guys, we are in the shit,’ Kim said once she had Stacey and Penn on the other end of the phone.

‘I’m trying, boss,’ Penn said, and Kim could hear the emotion in his voice.

‘Forget the tiles for a minute. We’ve got to think like our killer. He’s had us running round like idiots for almost thirty-six hours. The game is almost up, but he’s not as clever as we gave him credit for. Look at the places he’s sent us. Saltwells, a well-known nature reserve; Dudley Zoo, a tourist attraction; Clent, a beauty spot; the Red House Glass Cone, a famous historic location; the Obelisk, something that can be seen for miles; the famous Singing Cave.’

‘And now it’s the finale. How can he better what he’s already done?’ Bryant asked.

‘Wait, wait, wait,’ Penn said, moving tiles around on the desk. ‘I’ve got it. The tiles are the location. It’s the Black Country Museum.’

‘Are you sure, Penn?’ Kim asked. They couldn’t afford to make a mistake now.

He hesitated for just a second, and she could hear the tiles being moved around.

‘Absolutely positive,’ he said. ‘That’s what the tiles spell out.’

‘Then I suggest you two get your asses there. Now.’

NINETY-FOUR

6.15 P.M.

‘The keyholder is on his way back,’ Penn called as he and Stacey got out of the car.

They had pulled into the car park of the Black Country Museum parking area just seconds after Kim and Bryant had.

‘From where?’ Kim asked.

‘Merry Hill.’

‘Too long. We’ve got forty-five minutes,’ she said, looking along the edge of the site.

Their killer had got himself and Nazeera in somehow, and she doubted that it was in full view of the main entrance.

The entire site was twenty-six acres. She was sure there were vulnerable spots around the perimeter, but she didn’t have the time to look. She considered calling for uniform assistance but even if she did, she couldn’t wait or spare anyone to stay here and brief them. The four of them knew what they were looking for, so it was all that she had right now.

‘Bryant, pull your car over there,’ she said, pointing towards the far side of the entrance and café. There was six-feet-high wooden fencing with a runner at the bottom that was too low to give a foothold to reach the second runner, about five feet up the fence.

Within a minute, he had reversed the car so that the long, rear part of his estate vehicle was only a few inches from the fence.

She opened the car door and stepped on the seat to get up onto the roof of the vehicle. She moved carefully to the rear of the car.

Kim was able to steady herself by hanging on to the top of the fence before she cocked her leg over and straddled the fence.

‘Jesus,’ Stacey said as Kim swung her other leg over and lowered herself to the ground.

Bryant followed suit, making it look even easier, before Penn and then Stacey made it safely over the fence.

Kim was beginning to see all kinds of careers for them if they didn’t bring Nazeera back alive.

‘Okay, anybody got a clue of the layout?’

It had been many years since Kim’s last visit, when it had been little more than industrial land reclaimed from a former railway goods yard, with disused lime kilns, canal arm and former coal pits.

In the years since it opened in 1978, over fifty historical shops, houses and other industrial buildings had been gathered from around the Black Country to create a living museum.

‘I brought Jasper a couple of years back,’ Penn said. ‘If we follow this path, we’ll come to a fork. I think left takes you towards the park and a café and right goes towards the main high street and the exhibition forges.’

‘Okay, we’ll decide who is⁠—’

Kim stopped speaking as they turned the corner and the junction Penn had mentioned came into view.

In the middle of the road was a single object. They all knew what it was.

Kim reached the lockbox first. The discovery confirmed they were exactly where they were supposed to be. She prayed to God their timing was spot on as well.

She opened the box to find nothing but a single card.

In the fading light, she was just about able to read it.

One last choice. Won’t come as a surprise. Pick the right way to come claim your prize.

NINETY-FIVE

6.30 P.M.

Just being out of the office had brought Stacey alive. She wasn’t sure what day it was or when she had last seen Devon, but she was now wide awake, filled with adrenaline and determined to find Nazeera Khan before time ran out.

She and Penn stepped into the play area and took a cursory look around, listening keenly as they went. The sound of traffic from the busy road was growing distant behind them.

‘Stace, what’s that?’ Penn asked, pointing to something lying on the ground near the helter-skelter.

Stacey bent down and retrieved it. ‘A shoe.’

‘A lady’s shoe,’ Penn said, heading over to the bin. ‘It’s been emptied. The cleaners would have spotted it. It’s been placed there since.’

Stacey took out her phone.

‘What are you doing?’

‘Calling the boss.’

‘What if it’s a trap to fool us? Remember the call to the train line? It might be that the boss is heading in the right direction. If we call her this way…’

‘Okay, I get it,’ Stacey said, following him, still holding the shoe.

They continued moving towards the high street, passing the school, chip shop and tobacconist. Once they reached the top of the high street, they were close to the area the boss and Bryant were searching. They turned and swept the other side of the road.

Nothing.

‘Where now?’ Stacey asked.

‘If we turn left at the end, there’s a bridge over the canal and more shops. I think all the forges are that way too.’

‘Surely he wouldn’t have had time to bring her this far back?’ Stacey asked.

‘We don’t know where he broke in. We may not be that far away from where he entered.’

‘How do we know we’re on the right—’ Stacey stopped speaking as she spied the bridge.

Lying in the middle of the road was a handbag.

‘Penn, I didn’t completely agree with you the first time, but whether you outrank me or not, I’m calling the boss now.’

NINETY-SIX

6.35 P.M.

‘Bryant, I wouldn’t say this to anyone except for you, but I don’t have a good feeling about this,’ Kim said as they headed towards the park and playground. All she could picture was that little girl lying in a hospital bed. And a heart from another little girl just waiting for a new home. ‘What the hell happens if we don’t find Nazeera in time?’ she asked.

‘We both get more free time for our hobbies,’ he said, which was no funnier than his last attempt.

The ringing of her phone startled them both.

‘Go ahead, Stace,’ she said, putting the call on speaker.

‘We’re finding stuff, boss. It’s like a trail. So far we’ve got a shoe and a handbag.’

Kim briefly wondered why she hadn’t been called after the first item but let it go.

‘Okay, we’re on our⁠—’

‘Shhhh,’ Bryant said.

‘Gotta go,’ Kim whispered into the phone before ending the call.

‘Voices,’ Bryant said, pointing to the swing set at the edge of the small playing area.

A scream and then the sound of footsteps running.

Both she and Bryant began sprinting towards the sound as two figures disappeared into a row of bushes.

‘Stop,’ Kim shouted as she dived into the hedge, but she could already hear the footsteps continuing on the other side.

‘Damn it,’ she muttered, pulling twigs out of her hair.

The figures were just twenty metres in front. She could now see that they were kids heading for the perimeter fence, looking back as they ran.

Five more strides and she had one by the hoody.

Bryant surged past her and deftly grabbed the other one.

‘What are you doing here?’ Kim growled, turning the kid to face her.

‘Messing about. Ain’t hurting nobody. What’s it to you, copper?’ he asked, thrusting his chin forward.

Kim guessed him to be no older than fifteen but with an attitude that was much older.

Bryant had turned the other lad around. While he was probably the same age, he did not look as confident as his buddy.

‘What you got to say for yourself?’ Bryant asked. ‘Before I take you home and see what your mom thinks.’

‘Fuck, Jenks, he said we wouldn’t get in no shit,’ he said to his cocksure buddy.

‘Who told you that?’ Kim asked, turning her attention to Bryant’s charge.

‘The guy who told us to hang around here and make a noise. He gave us twenty quid,’ the lad said, patting his pocket.

‘What guy? What did he look like?’ Kim asked.

The one she grabbed appeared to have turned mute.

‘Just looked like a guy,’ Bryant’s captive answered.

‘You’ve gotta be able to give me a bit⁠—’

‘Guv…’ Bryant said, letting the lad go and then tapping his watch.

Her colleague was right. The priority right now was finding Nazeera and not being late.

‘Get out of here,’ she said to the kids, shoving one against the other.

They turned and ran, having escaped parental wrath and made a few quid.

Despite the time factor weighing down heavily upon her, she took a second to think.

The man had left a trail of women’s garments on the other side of the site and had provided a time-wasting distraction on this side.

It was clear that their sicko wanted them travelling in both directions. The only question was why.

NINETY-SEVEN

6.45 P.M.

‘Bloody hell, Penn, that’s a scarf,’ Stacey exclaimed as they reached Providence Chapel at the end of the road.

To the left were the steel trap works and yard and stables. To the right were a row of cottages and access to the bakery and the rolling mill.

‘Which way are we supposed to⁠—’

‘Shush,’ Penn spat at her.

She froze.

‘Did you hear that?’ he whispered.

She shook her head.

He focussed and waited. She did the same.

‘I heard it that time,’ she said.

‘I think it came from over there.’

Stacey followed him as he sprinted through the buildings, pausing only to listen for the faint noise of what had sounded like chain rattling.

Given they were running around the Black Country Museum and the breeze was picking up, it could mean absolutely nothing.

They paused again at the Limelight Cinema.

Same noise but louder.

Stacey felt excitement mix with the adrenaline surging around her body. She loved what she did in the office, but every now and again it was good to feel her feet out on the ground.

They ran towards the chain-making shop.

There was no question that the sound was coming from there.

They managed to look through one of the grimy windows and stopped dead, both unable to believe their eyes.

NINETY-EIGHT

6.55 P.M.

‘What the hell?’ Penn asked.

Nazeera had been seated on the floor against a beam in the middle of the shop with her legs outstretched in front of her and bound with chain at the ankles. Across her thighs was an old-fashioned breakfast tray that reminded Penn of the one he’d used to take meals to his mother. Her hands were secured to the breakfast tray with cuffs and a chain, palms facing down. A rope around her midriff meant she wasn’t going anywhere.

Stacey squeezed his arm with excitement. ‘We’ve got her, Penn. She’s alive.’

He continued to assess her condition. She was still wearing the pyjamas that she’d been abducted in, and her feet were bare. Her hair was pulled back into a ponytail, and there was a cloth tied around her mouth. Her head lolled forward. She didn’t yet know they were there.

Penn tapped on the window, and her head shot up.

Relief lit up her eyes. Somehow she knew they were the good guys.

‘I’ll go get her,’ Stacey said, heading around the side of the building towards the front door.

Nazeera watched as Stacey went out of view. Her eyes filled with panic, and she began to shake her head vigorously.

Penn’s euphoria disappeared. Something was wrong.

Nazeera looked to the ceiling and then back at him. Her face was contorted with fear.

He looked up and saw what she was afraid of.

His heart jumped into his mouth.

‘Stacey, noooooooooo,’ Penn cried at the top of his voice.

NINETY-NINE

6.58 P.M.

‘What do you mean you have her?’ Kim asked, stopping dead in her tracks.

‘At the chain-making shop,’ Stacey explained. ‘She’s alive and gagged but…’

Relief flooded through Kim. ‘Thank God you⁠—’

‘She’s booby-trapped, boss. Luckily Penn spotted the trap as my hand was on the door handle. There’s an anvil suspended above her hands. The rope holding it is tied to the door handle inside. The second that door is pushed open…’

‘Fucker,’ Kim growled, imagining the rope going slack and allowing the anvil to fall on the surgeon’s hands. Why would she have expected anything less from the sick bastard?

She couldn’t imagine it was a full-size anvil they were talking about. She knew they came in different weights from around five kilos to one hundred kilos. Didn’t matter. Even the smallest one dropped from a height onto Nazeera’s fingers would ensure that she never got to perform surgery again.

‘Is there any other way in?’

‘Can’t be sure there are no other traps, boss. There’s stuff everywhere.’

‘On our way,’ Kim said, before ending the call.

They began sprinting to the other side of the site. Although Kim felt they had been on the right track to find whatever their sicko had in store for them next, the priority was ensuring the safety of Nazeera Khan.

‘Where is she?’ Kim asked breathlessly as she came to a stop beside her colleagues.

Stacey pointed to the window.

Kim took a look and instantly understood why they had been reluctant to try any other method of entry. The workshop was filled with metal and tools. It was impossible to tell if anything else was rigged to cause her harm.

‘Okay, we need to think,’ Kim said, trying to find a solution. ‘Until we touch that door Nazeera is safe.’

‘Not really, boss,’ Penn said with a worried expression. ‘The beam it’s tied around is starting to sag.’

‘Shit,’ Kim said, taking another look. She hadn’t seen it but Penn had, and she was prepared to take his word for it.

‘Give me a minute,’ she said, stepping back from the building and looking at it from a distance.

Bryant had moved towards the window and was looking towards the ceiling.

‘Only one way, guv,’ he said, nodding to the roof.

‘Bryant, what the hell are you thinking?’

‘We need to be able to get in through the door because that’s the trap we know about. We have to disarm the threat because we know we can get her that way. We try any other way to get her and we don’t know what could happen.’

‘Makes sense but that beam ain’t waiting for the fire service,’ Penn said.

‘Then we’ll have to do it without,’ Bryant said, looking at the roof from every angle. Then he took a look around them.

‘Everyone, grab those pallets,’ he instructed.

‘Wanna explain why?’ Kim asked as she grabbed a wooden pallet and hauled it to where Bryant was laying the first one.

‘We need to get on the roof from this side of the building,’ he said, pointing to Penn. ‘If we approach from this side, we’ll be putting no more strain on that beam. If you and Stacey guide us to the right area, we can remove the roof tiles and grab the rope holding the anvil, giving you long enough to open the door and get Nazeera out of the way.’

‘Ludicrous,’ she said, shaking her head.

‘We gonna try it then?’

‘Got no choice,’ she said, grabbing another pallet.

With all four of them grabbing and stacking pallets, the pile was quickly high enough for Bryant and Penn to climb and mount the roof.

‘I need a guide,’ Bryant said. ‘So I know when we’re getting close.’

‘Stace, step back and stay level with them as they move towards the centre. I’ll stand in line with the beam so as soon as Stacey gets close to me, you should be close enough to start taking tiles off.’

Stacey got in place as Penn reached the roof and kneeled next to Bryant.

Kim got into position and fixed her gaze on the wooden beam. She could now see a difference. It was definitely bowing under the strain of the anvil.

‘Bryant, no pressure, but hurry the fuck up,’ she called.

‘Cheers, guv,’ he said tremulously.

For all his confidence in his own plan, the reality was clearly starting to set in for him. One false move and Nazeera’s hands were smashed to smithereens.

She could hear Bryant and Penn moving along the roof. From the corner of her eye, Stacey was getting closer.

Just a couple more steps.

Slowly.

One more step.

‘Stop,’ Kim called out. Stacey was now at her shoulder. If they came any closer, they’d be adding more weight to the already compromised beam. ‘You’re about a foot away from the rope, Bryant.’

‘Got it,’ he called back down.

‘Shout once you have hold of it,’ Kim said, moving towards the front door. There was nothing more they could do to guide him. She motioned for Stacey to follow her.

‘You get ready to push the door open, and I’ll run in and move her out of the way, okay?’ she instructed. Even if Bryant and Penn could grab the rope and keep hold of the anvil, they wouldn’t be able to do it for long.

‘Got it, boss,’ Stacey said, standing right by the door.

They remained silent, listening for clues from the noises they could hear on the roof. Neither of them dared speak in case they missed the call.

Kim heard what she thought was the sound of a tile being dislodged.

‘Move the one to the right,’ Penn said.

Another tile moved.

‘I see the rope,’ Bryant said. ‘Penn, move forward a foot and reach down.’

‘Got it,’ they heard.

‘You two ready?’ Bryant called down.

‘Yep,’ Kim called back.

‘Now,’ he cried.

Stacey pushed the door open so forcefully it flew backwards.

Kim charged across the space, avoiding all the obstacles, and reached Nazeera in seconds. She didn’t even look at her before assessing the situation.

‘H… hurry,’ Bryant called from above.

Kim darted behind Nazeera and quickly loosened the rope. She didn’t have time to untie the whole thing. Just a tiny bit of movement was all she needed.

She ran around to Nazeera’s front and took hold of her bound feet.

‘Guv, hurry,’ Bryant called down breathlessly.

Kim used Nazeera’s feet to swivel her ninety degrees around the pillar to take her out of harm’s way.

‘Guv… we can’t… hold…’

Kim arched her body over Nazeera’s as the anvil crashed to the ground. Nazeera cried out through the gag. Dust from the floor covered her back and hair.

‘Guv?’ Bryant called down urgently.

‘We’re all good,’ she cried back as Stacey appeared through the plume of dust.

‘Untie her properly,’ Kim said, reaching down to remove the gag from Nazeera’s mouth. The surgeon’s gaze was still locked in horror on the anvil.

‘Are you okay?’ Kim asked, kneeling in front of her.

Nazeera began to nod slowly.

‘Are you hurt?’

Nazeera hesitated as though mentally checking herself over. She shook her head.

The rope around her waist fell slack. Kim pulled it off completely as Stacey spied and headed for a pair of bolt cutters.

She handed them to Kim.

‘Stay still for me, Nazeera. I don’t want to hurt you,’ Kim said, getting a fix on the first cuff keeping her hands locked to the table. ‘One more,’ she went on, moving the cutters to the other wrist.

‘Everybody okay?’ Bryant said, coming into the workshop.

Penn followed closely behind.

‘All good and well done,’ Kim said as she helped Nazeera to her feet.

The woman appeared to be slightly unsteady at first but offered a tremulous smile.

‘Thank… thank you, but how did you…?’

‘Not important right now. Just as long as you’re okay.’

She nodded with more certainty before panic crept into her eyes. ‘Is Mum okay?’

‘She’s fine. Just concerned about you. Salt and Pepper are with her.’

‘Thank you. Thank you. I’m good, I’m good. What time is it?’

‘Seven fifteen,’ Stacey said.

‘Okay, okay. Jessica. Does anyone know how Jessica is doing?’

No one answered because none of them knew.

‘I need to get to the hospital. There’s still time. I can operate.’

Kim desperately wanted to ask her about her abductor but not at the expense of a little girl’s life.

‘My colleagues will get you there, Nazeera,’ she said, squeezing the woman’s hand. ‘And good luck with the surgery.’

Stacey took Nazeera’s arm and guided her around the anvil and other objects that littered the floor.

‘Bloody brave woman, that one,’ Bryant said as they followed behind.

‘Without doubt. Penn was pretty courageous getting up on that roof too,’ she said.

‘Jeez, thanks a lot, guv,’ he said as they exited the building.

‘Yeah, it wasn’t a bad plan, and it was executed pretty well.’

‘If that’s as good as it gets from you, I’ll take it. Though I’m not liking the look on your face right now.’

She could understand Bryant being concerned.

He was right to be.

ONE HUNDRED

7.15 P.M.

‘Too easy,’ Kim said, shaking her head as Penn, Stacey and Nazeera disappeared from view. ‘He wanted us to find her so that we’d be late finding him. He’s forcing us to break his rules so that he can enact the consequences.’

Kim admired Nazeera’s grit. The woman had been kidnapped and held hostage for twelve hours. She must have feared for her own safety, for her life at times, and after asking about her mother’s well-being, the first thing on her mind was saving the life of a little girl.

Kim turned to Bryant, who was looking both relieved and exhausted.

‘She’s not the prize,’ Kim said, watching his face fall with disappointment. ‘He didn’t get us all the way up here, mess us around the way he has to end it so easily. If we want him, we’re gonna have to find him.’

Kim thought about Peter Harris and realised she hadn’t given him enough credit. She’d thought Jared had been the whole brains behind the puzzle, but he’d had nothing to do with the endgame.

That had been the sole work of the ex-bouncer who hated his wife and daughter enough to attach this stigma to their names.

‘Where haven’t we tried?’ she asked.

‘Makes sense to head that way,’ Bryant said, pointing east. ‘Puts him at the furthest point away from Nazeera to make our job as hard as it can be.’

‘What’s over there?’

‘Coal mining section, I think.’

They retraced their steps back along the road and turned right, crossing a tram line.

The first thing Kim saw beyond the buildings was a set of railings guarding an open mine shaft. To the right was mine head winding gear. A ninety-foot-tall wooden contraption with beams crisscrossing it.

Pegs protruded either side of one of the beams to form a ladder reaching to the top of the machine and the big wheel once used to bring the coal to the surface.

There was a slim platform alongside the wheel.

Her gaze rested on the figure on the platform, and everything fell into place.

ONE HUNDRED ONE

7.23 P.M.

‘You’re late,’ Fred Guest called down from above.

How had she not seen that the man who had helped them from that very first day had inserted himself into the investigation? It had all started at the Saltwells Nature Reserve where Fred had been in charge. She’d given him the power to point them in any direction he chose.

He had been calm, helpful and co-operative while all the time causing them to chase their tails around the Black Country.

That same man was standing eighty feet in the air with a rope around his neck attached to a beam beneath his feet. If he took just one step forward, he would break his neck and he would never face the justice of a courtroom. For the sake of Hiccup and Frost, she wanted to see that day.

But how to make it happen? What could she appeal to?

She readied her voice to shout up to him. ‘Come down, Fred. Your dad…’

‘Dad died seven months ago,’ he called back down.

What a show he’d put on for them when they visited his home. Asking them to be quiet for the sake of his ill parent who’d already been dead for months.

Now the timeline made sense to her. Fred’s father had died, taking with him what had been Fred’s only reason for existing. Suddenly, the emptiness of his life had been staring him in the face and he’d decided to do something about it. One of his first actions was deciding who he was going to use to divert attention from himself. And that man had been Peter Harris.

One step and it would all be over. She had to get up to him. She needed to be able to stop him from breaking his own neck.

She put her feet on the first rung of the ladder, ignoring the warning sound from her colleague.

‘You went and bought Peter Harris’s van,’ she said, taking another step. ‘He told you on the last litter-pick that he was getting rid of it. You found out where he was taking it, didn’t you?’

Fred ignored her question. ‘You’re too late. It’s twenty-three minutes past seven.’

She continued climbing towards him. ‘And you used his debit card to set up the account on Seekers. What I don’t understand is why?’

‘Because I’m invisible. I’m sixty-one years old and all I’ve ever done is take care of a sick parent.’

‘That can’t be all…’

‘I worked in a factory. I was a body. I clocked in and clocked out. I did nothing that I’ll be remembered for. No wife, no kids, nothing of me will carry on.’

‘And that was worth a man’s life?’

She saw him shrug. ‘He will be missed as much as me. If there’s one thing I want you to understand, it’s the emptiness of living a life that’s for someone else. To only take care of a parent. To have no meaningful existence. For this I’ll be remembered. My name will be linked to these murders and to fooling the police. There’ll be documentaries on how I⁠—’

‘But you didn’t really, did you?’ Kim asked, taking another step. ‘Jared did most of the work. You knew how you wanted it to start and end, but everything in between was the work of someone else.’

She was now close enough to see that despite everything he had thought of, his expression said he hadn’t thought of that.

‘Jared’s name will be all over this. You think he won’t capitalise on it?’ she asked, taking another step.

Truthfully, she didn’t know for sure if that was true, but there was little blood on his hands, and it would probably get him a few more likes.

‘What about Tracy Frost?’ she continued. ‘Was she part of the game too?’

She just wanted to hear him admit what he’d done to the reporter.

‘Inspector, when are you going to understand that all death and injury is on you? I gave you every tool to find Hiccup on time. You failed. He died. Your fault, not mine. I gave you rules to follow. I was clear that failure to do so would result in serious consequences. The reporter took that chance. Her fault, not mine.’

Kim realised she was never going to be able to make him understand that he was responsible for the violence and death that had ensued. She had to force the picture of Frost out of her mind, or she was in danger of climbing up there and pushing him off the platform herself.

‘So, it was all for fame?’ she asked, taking another step.

Just one more and she could reach out and grab the bottom of his leg.

‘Not for fame. Just to be remembered.’

‘Fred, you can be remembered for⁠—’

‘I want notoriety. I want⁠—’

‘You want notoriety enough to rape a woman in front of her young daughter?’ Kim asked.

‘I didn’t rape anyone,’ he exploded. ‘What do you think I am?’

The horror on his face convinced her he was telling the truth. As soon as she’d seen the person standing on the top of the platform, that theory had gone out of her head. Her stomach had told her that while content to cut body parts from a homeless guy, he wouldn’t entertain the concept of raping a woman in front of her child. In his mind, his torture of Hiccup had been justified to meet the needs of the game. Fred Guest wasn’t a rapist, but she had just needed to see his reaction.

‘Sorry, but time’s up, Inspector. I gave you every chance to find me, and you messed it up. You arrived late. There are rules for a reason, and they have to be followed.’

She raised one foot onto the next rung.

He shuffled forward.

She stopped dead in her tracks. Rules, timings, puppets, manipulation. Control.

‘You know what, Fred, fucking jump,’ she said, taking a step back down the ladder.

‘Wh-What?’ he spluttered.

‘Do what you like. I’m over it.’

‘You can’t say that.’

‘Says who?’ she asked, continuing her descent. ‘You see my boss here anywhere?’

‘B-But…’

Kim was thrilled to hear the panic in his voice. The fact that he no longer had any power over her was not something he’d anticipated.

A few more steps down.

‘Have you ever heard the phrase “unnamed male”?’ Kim asked, pausing to call back up to him.

He nodded down at her.

‘That will be you in about one hour’s time. Your suicide will not be related to the Jester case, and you’ll be no more than one square column inch if that,’ she said, taking another step.

‘The press will⁠—’

‘The press won’t give a shit,’ Kim said. ‘With no formal statement from us, they’ll assume the Jester got bored or the case didn’t get solved. There will be no link to your death. No one will ever know it was you. You’ll die completely unknown and forgotten.’

‘I don’t believe you,’ he called as she continued her descent.

‘And I no longer care what you believe,’ she said as her feet met the ground.

‘Guv, what the hell are you…?’

‘Take a look around, Fred,’ she said, ignoring her colleague’s concerns. ‘This is where it ends for you. This’ll be the last thing you ever see. No newspapers, no television channels, no Wikipedia page with your name on it. You’ll be dead and gone, and Jared Truss will be enjoying all the glory of having assisted a killer who has disappeared into thin air.’

‘You can’t cover this up,’ he shouted.

‘I can if you’re dead. Who’s gonna stop me? Who else knows that you’re responsible? You’ve done such a good job of hiding yourself that even the rest of my team don’t know it’s you. It’s just a shame that no one is ever going to know how clever you were. You’ll be as unmemorable in death as you were in life. See, I’ve worked it out now, Fred. You just wanted to feel important. You wanted to be someone’s focus. Your life was always about your dad. You wanted people to follow you, to chase you and be thinking about you.’

‘Guv, seriously,’ Bryant hissed.

Kim ignored him. She had come too far now. ‘You know, Fred, I’m not sure you’ve even thought this thing through. You got any idea what happens when you step off that platform?’

He said nothing.

‘To get instant death, you’re gonna have to take a run and jump, which you ain’t got the room to do. You’re going to step off and free-fall a few feet, and then the rope is gonna break your fall, but it’s not gonna kill you. Not straight away.’

She paused, wanting to give him the whole picture. ‘You ever choked on a piece of food and coughed until you couldn’t catch your breath? Ever had an asthma attack or allergic reaction where you couldn’t breathe deep? If you don’t immediately break your neck, you’re gonna feel all these things at once. While you’re choking to death, the blood pressure will build in your eyes and mouth causing your eyeballs and tongue to bulge. You’re gonna chew on your own tongue. You’re gonna writhe in agony until your final breath, and there’s nothing we can do from down here.’

He took the smallest step back.

She could understand Bryant’s concern at her actions, but she really had nothing left to lose. Despite having climbed the ladder, there was nothing she could have done to save him from up there. Her only chance had been to appeal to the things that were important to him.

And now she was about to seal the deal one way or the other.

She stepped back and folded her arms. ‘Go on then. Crack on,’ she called.

He would never know just how tightly she was holding on to the breath in her body. Her deliberate stance said she couldn’t care less, but she did care. She wanted to see this man face justice for what he’d done.

Very slowly, he reached up and removed the noose from around his neck.

Fred hesitated as though considering just falling to the ground. Her pulse quickened briefly before he took another step back as though feeling the impact of the ground smashing against his body wasn’t on his list of suicide methods.

He used the railings to step backwards onto the ladder that would bring him to the ground.

‘Jesus, Guv, you got me sweating then,’ Bryant whispered by her side.

‘Oh yeah,’ she said, finally exhaling as the man neared the bottom of the ladder.

She moved towards the winding tower and was waiting for him as his feet met solid ground.

She turned him around and took the handcuffs that were already in her colleague’s hands.

‘Fred Guest, I am arresting you for the murder of Anthony Parsons, the attempted murder of Tracy Frost and the kidnapping of Nazeera Khan. You do not have to say anything. But it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.’

‘I want a lawyer,’ he said before pressing his lips together.

Of course he did. Most likely an agent and business manager too.

‘Good job you like rules, Fred. You’re going to be following someone else’s for the rest of your natural life.’

ONE HUNDRED TWO

7.45 P.M.

Kim sat against a wall as the squad car took Fred Guest back to the station, but she wasn’t yet quite ready to follow.

It was the futility of it all that was boiling her blood. A man had lost his life and Frost was close to death because one man had wanted to leave his mark on the world.

Over the years, she’d investigated crimes with motives ranging from rage, rejection, rivalry or childhood trauma but never because someone wanted to see their name on the news. An ounce of sympathy was trying to find somewhere to settle in her mind. She tried to make space for it for the sake of the boy who hadn’t got the support he needed to form his own identity and life. A teenager who had been overlooked and forgotten about by his peers, teachers, the authorities. A young man who had been unable to find love or make a family. The older man whose life had suddenly become meaningless with the death of his father.

All of these things begged for her understanding, and yet one thought of Hiccup’s fate and Frost’s injuries destroyed any hope of that.

The variables were still running through her head.

What if Penn hadn’t thought about lost property? What if they hadn’t pieced together that Nazeera was at the Black Country Museum? It was true that she wouldn’t have died, but if the wrong person had opened that door, she would never have performed surgery again. In addition, it was a very real possibility that Jessica would have died too.

‘Just us then,’ Bryant said, appearing above her after explaining everything to the museum keyholder.

‘Yep,’ she said, pushing herself to her feet.

She took a step towards the car park, but Bryant didn’t move.

‘You know you shouldn’t have done that, right?’ he asked.

‘It was a calculated risk,’ she said, starting to walk away anyway.

‘Didn’t see you doing any maths,’ he said, falling into step beside her.

‘In my head,’ she said, tapping her temple.

‘We’re the good guys,’ he protested. ‘We don’t do that. We try and talk them down regardless of what they’ve done. We don’t goad them into jumping.’

‘He was in more danger of jumping before I pointed out the possibilities.’

‘You can’t know that, guv, and that’s my point. You didn’t have procedure on your side. If he’d jumped after you’d done everything by the book, there’d be no comeback on you, but what if he’d jumped after you bloody well told him to? How the hell would we have explained that one?’

‘We wouldn’t. You wouldn’t have heard a thing, and I’d have taken responsibility for my own actions.’

‘What about having the man’s death on your conscience?’ he asked as they exited the site into the car park.

‘My conscience, my call,’ she said, ending the conversation.

Bryant looked like there was more he wanted to say, but he bit it back and shook his head resignedly as he opened the car door.

She got in beside him and was content to wait for silence to enfold them as they headed back to the station to question Fred Guest.

It was all over – but only for them. They had their man, but Melissa Keene didn’t have hers. Kim firmly believed that Fred Guest had not raped anyone. They had brought it all back to the surface for Melissa, forcing her to relive the horrific experience for no reason. The woman was working hard to get her life back in order and put her small family back together.

And then there was another family they’d met that had been fractured. The Lanes had been broken apart because of Boyce’s relationship with his own cousin.

That thought stopped her in her tracks and brought about a chain reaction in her mind that made her sit up straighter in her chair.

‘Bryant, we need to take a detour.’

It was time to finally end this thing.

ONE HUNDRED THREE

8.10 P.M.

Kim hadn’t expected to be visiting this house again.

The lady of the house answered the door.

Because she was looking for it, Kim saw the fear in her eyes before it disappeared behind irritation.

‘Really, Officer, this is now harassment. I’m not sure what you think we know⁠—’

‘Is the whole family home?’ Kim said, cutting her off.

This woman sure did use attack as a form of defence.

‘Yes, but I’m not letting you in to disturb⁠—’

‘Mrs Lane, I’m going to speak with the whole family, and I’m happy to do it out here. Loudly,’ Kim said, finally living off the fumes of her patience.

‘Come in,’ she said at last, standing aside.

Mrs Lane closed the door behind them as Derren came barrelling down the stairs. ‘Hope you don’t need me cos I’m off out,’ he said, grabbing for his jacket on the coat hook by the door.

‘Actually we need to speak to you all,’ Kim said, not moving from in front of the door.

He paused and then walked into the lounge. ‘Okay, but be quick,’ he said, throwing himself onto the sofa beside his brother.

‘It’s okay, Derren, I’m sure Joanne will still be there once we’re finished.’

‘Wh-What?’ Mrs Lane stuttered as the younger son’s mouth fell open.

Kim took a seat as Bryant lounged against the door frame. It was a subconscious move to stop people leaving the room.

‘That’s all over,’ Eric Lane protested, putting down his newspaper.

Kim ignored him and spoke directly to Derren. ‘I very rarely make assumptions in this job, but when Joanne told me she’d got too close to one of her cousins, I assumed she meant Boyce. Then it hit me that you were the one who was angry with every member of your family. Why? What had they tried to stop you from doing? But it hasn’t stopped you, has it? That’s just one of the secrets in this house.’

Mrs Lane had sat down and was looking at her son with utter disgust.

‘She’s your cousin,’ Eric spat.

Derren shrugged. ‘I love her,’ he said simply.

Mrs Lane turned on Kim. ‘Well, I hope you’re happy now. Feel free to see yourself⁠—’

‘That’s not the reason I’m here, and you know it.’

Mrs Lane looked to her husband in desperation, having no more tools left to use. The aggression and hostility were no longer working.

‘That got me wondering why you were so concerned about Boyce not being in his room last night. If you weren’t worried about him being with Joanne, what exactly were you so fearful of? What did you think he was doing? Why was your husband out looking for him?’ Kim asked, taking a guess.

‘She’s just overprotective,’ Eric answered, having taken over the speaking.

She noted that Boyce hadn’t yet uttered one word but continued to stare down at the ground.

‘I asked you about the rape the last time I was here, and I should have realised how uncomfortable that made you all.’

No one spoke.

‘Eric, I believe you set the trail on the Little Trekkers website in all innocence for people to enjoy. I believe that Boyce told you what he’d done to one of the women who was following it and you removed it.’

‘You think, you believe. What proof do you have?’ he asked as colour flooded his face.

‘You wear Old Spice, Mr Lane?’

He didn’t answer, but Kim remembered when he had passed her in the doorway last night. There had been no smell of alcohol, but she had smelled his aftershave.

‘And Boyce tends to copy a lot of things you do,’ she said, staring at the eldest son, who still chose not to speak. Instead, he was looking from his mum to his dad.

An unusual reaction given that she was accusing him of rape.

Suddenly, Boyce bolted for the door. Bryant stopped him easily.

‘If I’m wrong, give me a DNA sample and you’ll be immediately cleared. Yes or no?’ she asked.

‘No,’ Eric Lane answered before his son could speak. ‘He’s not giving you anything.’

And that was all the confirmation she needed. Boyce had done it, and his parents knew about it.

She approached the young man with whom she had never exchanged a word and looked right into his terrified little eyes.

‘Boyce Lane, I am arresting you for the sexual assault of Melissa Keene.’

By the time she’d finished the caution and placed cuffs on him, she was well and truly ready to go home.

ONE HUNDRED FOUR

Bryant switched off the engine and let out a long sigh before getting out of the car.

Often when they finished a case, he would go somewhere else before returning home, sometimes a café, sometimes a beauty spot. Other times he’d just drive a few miles out somewhere, turn around and then drive home. It was his way of blowing the case off his clothes, of leaving it outside his house, not taking the negativity back to Jenny.

He realised that despite having been gone for almost forty hours, he should still have placed a separation between work and home, but he was desperate to see his wife. He wanted to be around the woman who had given his life meaning for almost thirty years.

He’d never understand why or how Fred Guest had been able to torture a defenceless guy like Hiccup and allow him to die in a horrific manner, but he also couldn’t help thinking about Fred’s life. That he had had no loving wife or meaningful relationship with anyone. That he’d had no children to give him joy and didn’t seem to have any friends. His whole life had been given to taking care of his father. The thought saddened him, and he let out another long breath as he got out of the car.

He stepped inside the gate and paused.

It seemed like a long time ago that he’d been annoyed about spending his Sunday mowing the lawn and weeding the borders. It didn’t seem so much of a chore anymore, but now, magically, it was done.

Bryant sometimes wondered about his own life. Did he live a small, inconsequential existence that would find no place in history?

He had a wonderful wife, a well-mannered and caring daughter. He had a job that he enjoyed and which challenged him. He had an occasional tussle on the rugby pitch, and he went dancing weekly. He had a couple of friends from his college days and a couple he’d made over the years from work or rugby.

He opened the front door to his home as eager to see Jenny as he had been when they were in their twenties. The first thing to greet him was the smell. He was an old-fashioned guy, and his favourite meal was good old egg and chips. Not a meal he was allowed too often.

Jenny turned and gave him that smile. The one that told him that even after all these years, she was just as happy to see him.

‘Hey, husband,’ she said, reaching for a frying pan.

‘Hey,’ he said in a voice that caused her to put the frying pan down and move towards him.

Neither spoke as they hugged long and hard.

Eventually, he pulled back and met her gaze. ‘The garden is done,’ he acknowledged.

‘Thought that’d be the last thing you’d feel like doing after the last couple of days.’

His heart swelled in his chest as he reached for her again.

Hell no, his life wasn’t small at all.

ONE HUNDRED FIVE

Stacey thanked goodness she wasn’t returning to an empty house.

She’d texted Devon that she was leaving the station, and her wife had replied with emojis of a bath and a wine glass.

Perfect.

She and Devon discussed their work lives at length, and she knew Devon would want to know everything about the case that had caused the team to make the national news. Everyone had their own way of dusting the case from themselves and for her it was to blurt it all out, expel it to Devon, and then she was done. It somehow evaporated in the air between them.

‘Hey, babe, good day?’ Devon asked with a smile.

Stacey laughed. The day had been forty hours long.

As keen as she was to rid herself of the case, there was something else that had somehow infiltrated her heart without warning.

Every time she had thought of the children involved in the case, both the donor child who had lost her life and the one now fighting for hers, a feeling she couldn’t describe had pierced her heart. It was a kind of intense longing, almost like a sickness. She’d imagined the emotions of both sets of parents, the despair and the hope, and she’d been able to feel the intensity of the emotion: that unconditional love for your own child. She wanted it, and she hadn’t even known it until today.

‘You ready for a nice long soak?’ Devon asked, stepping towards the bathroom.

She wasn’t. Not yet. The thoughts had been burning in her all day, and she had to get the words out. Had to know where they stood on the subject.

She sat down on the couch.

‘Dee, I need to talk to you. I want kids. I know we’ve never really discussed it, but I want them. I want⁠—’

‘Hey, babe, slow down,’ Devon said, placing her hand on Stacey’s arm.

Disappointment surged through her. ‘You don’t want kids with me?’

‘You’ve just walked in the door after a long, bloody hard case. You’re exhausted, emotional, relieved. Now is not the time to be making lifelong decisions.’

Sounded like avoidance to her.

‘You don’t want kids with me?’ she repeated, swallowing down the hurt.

Devon rolled her eyes. ‘As if that’s even a serious question. The idea of bringing a child into our lives when we have so much love to give is a no-brainer. I’d love to increase our family and share everything that we’ve built.’

Relief flooded through her as a tear escaped out of her eye. Devon was right: she was tired and emotional, but her heart knew what her heart knew.

‘I mean I’m not saying we should do it next week,’ Stacey clarified. ‘I know there’d be a lot to discuss, especially in our situation, like how and when and who would stay home and…’

‘I’m ready whenever you are,’ Devon said with a smile, and Stacey finally allowed herself to be guided to a warm, relaxing bath.

ONE HUNDRED SIX

Penn stepped inside his home and immediately felt that, in his absence, something had changed.

The silence and the suitcase in the hall told him exactly what it was.

He supposed that he had kind of been expecting it. The last time he’d spoken to Lynne, earlier that day, she had assured him that both she and Jasper were fine, but there had been a distance in her manner, a distraction in her tone.

It hadn’t been an easy relationship to maintain. Doing the same job meant they at least understood the pressures and demands of their chosen career, but that didn’t make it any easier to deal with the long hours, the missed dates and sometimes a week rolling by with barely seeing each other.

They loved each other; he knew that, but sometimes it wasn’t enough. Love had to be fed, watered and shown sunshine to flourish.

He realised that this case must have been the final nail in the coffin for Lynne and she’d made the decision to pack up the few things she had here. At least she’d done him the courtesy of waiting around to tell him to his face.

He knew Jasper had been collected by Billy’s mum to play Xbox games and that he’d likely stay over, so she had chosen her time well.

A fresh ache came to his heart at the thought of Jasper, who was almost as much in love with Lynne as he was.

How would he break the news to him? He didn’t do well with people coming in and out of his life. He didn’t always understand that things changed. He expected that if someone entered his life, they were there to stay. That was the very reason that Penn had never invited anyone other than Lynne into their small family unit.

It would hurt them both, but he couldn’t expect her to stay around for Jasper’s sake.

At that second, she appeared in the doorway to the kitchen.

She wore slim-fitting jeans and a tee shirt with a cartoon giraffe. His heart leaped with joy as it did every time he laid eyes on her.

Her pensive expression confirmed this was not a normal evening. She didn’t rush into his arms for a ‘crikey, I’ve missed you’ hug. Instead, she headed straight for the kettle.

‘Cuppa?’ she asked with a slight tremor in her voice.

‘No,’ he said flatly. If it was going to happen, he’d like it done quickly. He didn’t want coffee. He wanted her to put him out of his misery.

The pensive expression had increased to outright concern.

‘You okay?’ she asked, switching the kettle on anyway.

‘Come on – out with it,’ he said, taking a seat.

‘What’s wrong with…?’

‘I know what you’re going to tell me, so let’s get it over with. Don’t try to spare my feelings. I’m too exhausted for that.’

‘Penn, what the hell has got into you?’

Realising he was reacting already to the hurt he was going to feel in a few moments, he held up his hand. ‘Sorry, just tired.’

‘Understandable,’ she said, coming to sit beside him. She took his hand, but the touch was hesitant, unsure.

‘I actually have got something to tell you.’

He nodded and waited.

‘And I hope you’re gonna be okay with it.’

That was asking a lot, but for her sake he’d try and be gracious.

‘Jasper and I have been a bit busy while you were gone.’

She didn’t have enough stuff for two people to collect and pack.

She took a deep breath. ‘So, I hope you don’t mind, but I kind of moved in. Like properly.’

‘Wh-What?’

‘Oh God, I’m sorry. It’s too soon. You don’t want me here. I’ve been too presumptuous.’

Penn could feel the smile starting to spread across his face. His heart was flip-flopping in his chest as the feeling of panic melted away.

‘I just thought it made sense and that we might get to see more of each other if we at least lived in the same house, and Jasper thought it was a great idea too and, oh, if you want me to move back out again, I can.’

‘Lynne,’ he said to get her attention. He pointed to the cheesy grin shaping his mouth.

She visibly relaxed. ‘So it’s okay?’

‘Oh, it is more than okay,’ he said before taking her in his arms.

ONE HUNDRED SEVEN

It was almost 2 a.m. when Kim pulled up outside the hospital.

She switched off the engine and took a breath as a car pulled into the staff car park. Even at this time in the morning, staff were coming and going.

The fatigue was starting to tell on her now, and the last few hours were fading into a blur.

While she’d been questioning Fred Guest, her team had been busy tying up loose ends.

Stacey had uncovered through social media that their visit had prompted Peter Harris to make one last effort to connect with his daughter. She had offered him another chance. He had checked into a Travelodge close to where she lived in Derbyshire. Despite his manner, Kim hoped it worked out for him.

Penn had drafted arrest warrants for Jared Truss and Ryan Douglas for obstruction. Both had withheld information that if shared earlier could have saved an innocent man’s life. There had to be some repercussions for their actions.

While trying to talk Fred down, she’d also received a text message from Dickie, the scrap man. Unable to believe that any of his team would be dishonest, he had questioned them all. After threatening them with the police, one of his employees had come clean and admitted to selling the Citroën to an old guy who really, really wanted it just hours after it had entered the yard. He had pocketed the easy five hundred quid, which he’d need now that he’d lost his job.

Boyce Lane had been handed over to West Mercia to deal with. There was no doubt in her mind that Boyce had committed the crime, and the family would now have to live with the stigma they had tried so hard to avoid.

As he’d been driven away, Kim had placed a call to Melissa Keene, who upon hearing the news had collapsed into loud, incoherent tears. David Keene had taken the phone from his wife to confirm that it was really true and that the rapist was in custody. He too had then burst into tears.

Kim prayed that the news would give them both some peace and the ability to take back control of their lives.

The debrief with Woody had gone much as she’d expected, although she had been surprised to learn that during the course of the investigation, not one complaint had landed on his desk. Perhaps she was losing her touch with her ability to annoy people, but she seriously hoped not. It was a quality she was proud of.

She got out of the car and started heading towards the hospital.

Due to Nazeera’s safe return, the brass were not calling for her dismissal. She was under no illusion about it being due to the stellar performance of herself and her team. It was only because the optics wouldn’t look good if the investigator who’d ensured Nazeera returned unharmed was suddenly booted out of her job. Either way, she was grateful for both the absence of complaints and the disciplinary notification. Way too much paperwork to deal with. After a few sharp words from Woody about her performance at the press conference, she’d been sent on her way.

After checking that all the paperwork had been completed, she had dismissed her team and given them a thirty-six-hour break.

She had watched them go with a sense of pride that surprised her. Not one of them had seriously considered bailing on the case even before they’d known what was at stake, and although they had probably been too tired to realise it, they had all performed out of their skins. Stacey, as ever, had been unrivalled in digging out information and growing her hunches into viable leads. Penn had been doggedly determined to discover the identity of the missing homeless man and despite the challenge had never given up on trying to solve the clues, even at his lowest point. She knew he’d ignored her instruction to remain in the Bowl and had instead chosen to give his colleague a rest. That knowledge had only made her respect him more.

And then there was Bryant, the man who offered rare insights at the strangest times, the man who had formed and executed a dangerous plan that had saved the career of a brilliant surgeon, and the only one to prick her conscience and cause her to answer to herself. His words ensured that she would give thought at some stage to what she’d goaded Fred to do and whether she had been as professional as she should have been, and Bryant knew it. He didn’t force her to face her own reflection, but he sure did hand her the mirror.

After watching them leave, she had taken herself to Charlie’s to collect Barney who had been equally pleased to see her as she was to see him. After rolling around on Charlie’s floor with him for a good twenty minutes, she had taken him home, given him his favourite tea of kibble and chicken, taken him for a long walk and then given him his nightly treat of a crunchy carrot. After a quick trip outside, he had settled in his bed and hadn’t even stirred when she let herself quietly out of the house.

The roads had been deserted, and after the frantic pace of the last couple of days, she had found the night drive calming to her system.

She had called ahead to make sure it was okay to visit so late. Due to the circumstances, they had agreed.

She’d made a second call to a different department to be told that Jessica’s surgery was complete and that all the signs were good.

She’d shared the news with the team WhatsApp group and sent a short text to Woody.

She paused her thoughts as she approached the side entrance of the hospital.

‘Jesus Christ,’ she cried out as a shadow to her right took on solid form.

Steve Ashworth smiled at her reaction.

‘What the fuck are you playing at?’ she barked as her heart thumped against her chest. She’d completely forgotten about him.

‘Just wanted a quick word,’ he said as though it was normal to jump out at someone at two o’clock in the morning.

‘How the hell did you know I was here?’

He shrugged as though the source was confidential. On this occasion, nothing had been called in so there was only one explanation.

‘You followed me from the station?’ she asked. That meant he knew where she lived and where Charlie lived. She had been so tired that she hadn’t even thought about checking if he was still around.

‘Nice dog,’ he said, confirming what she suspected.

‘Don’t you dare even think about⁠—’

‘Hey, I don’t hurt animals. I don’t even hurt humans. I do expose people in positions of power.’

‘What exactly do you think I’ve done?’ she asked.

‘I don’t know – that’s what bothers me.’

‘Or you could just be stalking one of the good guys?’

He smiled. ‘I’m not stalking you. I’ve made no attempt to hide, and you won’t see me again for a while. But I will be back.’

‘All this because I went into a property while trying to save a man’s life?’ she asked with disbelief.

‘No. It’s the fact that you thought nothing of doing it. That you think the rules are there for other people. I’ve already told you I don’t like cops who break the rules. It tells me there are few limits you won’t go to in getting what you want. Oh, and nice move getting me trapped in the crime scene,’ he said with genuine admiration.

She took no comfort from it.

‘So, this is your idea of a warning?’ she asked, folding her arms. She was so over playing games.

He thought for a second before nodding.

‘Ooooh, I’m terrified,’ she said, nudging him out of the way. ‘When you wanna find the skeletons in my closet, give me a call and I’ll give you the key.’

‘Oh, everyone has skeletons, Inspector Stone, but some closets are deeper than others.’

With that he turned and headed back towards the car that she’d mistaken for that of a staff member.

Despite her bravado, a chill had stolen over her. He was right about skeletons, but hers had been buried well.

She took a breath before approaching the side entrance of the hospital where a nurse had appeared to let her in.

‘Thanks for letting me come,’ she said, forcing the encounter from her mind. There were more important things.

The nurse walked ahead. ‘She’s in a side room so you won’t be disturbing other patients, and unfortunately she’s not going to be talking your ear off.’

Tracy Frost was still in a coma from the injury she’d sustained simply because she had chosen not to follow Fred Guest’s instructions.

In addition to committing murder, attempted murder and kidnapping, it appeared that Fred hadn’t been the model carer either.

There were a number of injuries that had befallen his father over the years that had aroused the suspicion of the adult care services. However, Mr Guest senior had always supported his son’s claims of a fall here or a tumble there. No complaint had ever been made, and the man had always insisted he was being well cared for.

Maybe if he’d told the truth, Fred would have been released from his burden and wouldn’t have grown into the bitter, resentful man that he had.

Everything he’d done was to achieve fame, notoriety. He wanted to be remembered for something. He had been ready to kill and to die just so his name would live on in some capacity.

Unfortunately for Fred, he had been knocked off the news cycle when a story broke that a famous golfer had been caught cheating and was fathering a baby with his mistress.

It had taken Kim a while to understand why Fred had chosen to embroil them in a game, and she had only one answer.

Superiority. He wanted to watch as they scrambled around while patting himself on the back. It was a way to feel good about himself, about his own intelligence. Ultimately, it was a power trip, and he’d enjoyed every minute of it.

‘In here,’ the nurse said, pointing to the first side ward on the left.

Her voice had turned gentle, and Kim knew this visit had been allowed because no one knew if Frost would make it.

There was every chance that her eyes would never open again.

‘Has anyone else been?’

The lips pursed. ‘Her mother. Didn’t stay long, said it was too much for her nerves. We’re to call her if there’s any change, good or bad.’

A wave of sadness stole over Kim. She had known their relationship was complicated, but she hadn’t realised it was non-existent.

‘There’s a coffee machine just⁠—’

‘I’m fine, thanks, but can I ask you something?’

‘Of course.’

‘What are her chances?’

The nurse weighed her words carefully before she let anything come out of her mouth.

‘Even though you’re not family, I’m gonna tell you that the doctors don’t hold out much hope. They’re not sure they were able to relieve the pressure before the damage to her brain had already been done.’

‘But?’ Kim asked.

She opened her hands expressively. ‘I’ve worked on this ward for eleven years. I’ve seen some folks not supposed to die take their last breath, and I’ve seen folks written off walk out of here on their own two legs. It’s down to the individual, but my logic is that it ain’t over until it’s over.’

Kim thanked her before stepping into the room.

However much she’d tried to prepare herself for this, it hadn’t been enough.

Tracy Frost looked half her normal size. Wires and leads linked her to machines on both sides of the bed.

Kim’s gaze immediately moved to the monitoring equipment on the left. She didn’t understand all of the colours and numbers, but she knew they indicated blood pressure, respiration and heart rhythm. A closer look told her there was a reading for intracranial pressure.

A ventilator was positioned to her right. That was what Kim hadn’t quite readied herself for, that a machine was breathing for her.

Less than two days ago, this shrunken figure had been banging on her door with the force of a wrecking ball. This was Frost: the bane of her life, always popping up when she least needed it, getting in her face, challenging her. The two versions were not melding into one.

She briefly thought of her team as she took a seat. How were they ending a case that had started less than forty-eight hours ago? Had they all gone home and picked up where they’d left off?

For her it was ending the same way it had started, in the company of a local reporter.

‘Come on, Frost – pull yourself together,’ she said, touching her lightly on the arm.

It was fair to say they’d shared quite the past. Kim had progressed from hating every bone in her body to tolerating her inevitable presence.

The woman was complicated, often ruthless, and uncaring in her efforts to get a story. And then there were those other times, like when she’d had Kim’s entire social services file in the boot of her car. There was so much she could have done with that, but instead she’d handed it back, unread.

Kim liked to think she’d returned the favour when she’d allowed Frost to stay in her home when her own had been a crime scene.

There had been much back and forth between them over the years. There was a history, and that’s why she was here now.

‘Listen, Frost, you gotta sort yourself out,’ she said softly. ‘No more messing around. You’ve milked it now. It was a bang on the head, and you’ve had a nice nap. Ain’t nobody coming in there to get you. It’s on you to find your way back.’

Kim paused. There was no change, and she hadn’t expected it. She had no idea if Frost could hear her, but it beat sitting in silence.

‘I need you to come back. You’re my measuring stick of progress in tolerance. If I can learn to put up with you turning up at my home at all hours of the day, there’s hope for me yet.’

Kim checked her eyelids for movement.

No response.

‘And just think how much you’d miss aggravating the life out of me. I know the satisfaction you get from rattling me. You’ve made it your life’s work.’

Kim sat back in the chair, content to sit in silence. If Frost could hear, then she knew she wasn’t alone. If she couldn’t, there was no harm done.

When the silence began to bear down on her, she turned to the reporter once more.

‘Seriously, Frost, you gotta put up a bit of a fight.’

Kim checked the eyelids again.

There was a flicker.

Kim froze.

Frost’s eyes opened.

An alarm sounded.

Kim instinctively reached out and squeezed her arm.

‘Well, you took your bloody time.’

* * *

If you were glued to every single chapter as Kim followed the Jester’s fiendish clues in a desperate race against time, you won’t want to miss what comes next! Sign up to Angela Marsons’ mailing list to be the first to know about Kim’s next gripping case.

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BOOKS BY ANGELA MARSONS

DETECTIVE KIM STONE PREQUEL

First Blood

DETECTIVE KIM STONE SERIES

1. Silent Scream

2. Evil Games

3. Lost Girls

4. Play Dead

5. Blood Lines

6. Dead Souls

7. Broken Bones

8. Dying Truth

9. Fatal Promise

10. Dead Memories

11. Child’s Play

12. Killing Mind

13. Deadly Cry

14. Twisted Lies

15. Stolen Ones

16. Six Graves

17. Hidden Scars

18. Deadly Fate

19. Bad Blood

20. Guilty Mothers

21. 36 Hours

OTHER BOOKS

If Only

The Forgotten Woman

Dear Mother

Available in audio

DETECTIVE KIM STONE PREQUEL

First Blood (Available in the UK and the US)

DETECTIVE KIM STONE SERIES

1. Silent Scream (Available in the UK and the US)

2. Evil Games (Available in the UK and the US)

3. Lost Girls (Available in the UK and the US)

4. Play Dead (Available in the UK and the US)

5. Blood Lines (Available in the UK and the US)

6. Dead Souls (Available in the UK and the US)

7. Broken Bones (Available in the UK and the US)

8. Dying Truth (Available in the UK and the US)

9. Fatal Promise (Available in the UK and the US)

10. Dead Memories (Available in the UK and the US)

11. Child’s Play (Available in the UK and the US)

12. Killing Mind (Available in the UK and the US)

13. Deadly Cry (Available in the UK and the US)

14. Twisted Lies (Available in the UK and the US)

15. Stolen Ones (Available in the UK and the US)

16. Six Graves (Available in the UK and the US)

17. Hidden Scars (Available in the UK and the US)

18. Deadly Fate (Available in the UK and the US)

19. Bad Blood (Available in the UK and the US)

20. Guilty Mothers (Available in the UK and the US)

OTHER BOOKS

If Only (Available in the UK and the US)

The Forgotten Woman (Available in the UK and the US)

Dear Mother (Available in the UK and the US)

A LETTER FROM ANGELA

First of all, I want to say a huge thank you for choosing to read 36 Hours, the twenty-first instalment of the Kim Stone series and to many of you for sticking with Kim Stone and her team since the very beginning.

Many of you know by now that I often like to think of new situations or experiences for DI Kim Stone. In this book, I decided to give her two challenging situations.

Firstly, I decided to pit her against the clock. Kim’s attitude often needs serious adjustment on a normal day, but I was interested to see how she’d act with a case that ran for 36 hours straight. How much coffee would she need? How many complaints could she amass? Would she have a job at the end of it?

Secondly, I wanted to see how she fared against an enemy who controlled or dictated the team’s every move by posing clues that had to be followed as well as develop leads of their own to find the perpetrator.

I thoroughly enjoyed writing 36 Hours, and if you enjoyed it, I would be forever grateful if you’d write a review. I’d love to hear what you think, and it can also help other readers discover one of my books for the first time. Or maybe you can recommend it to your friends and family…

I’d love to hear from you – so please get in touch on my Facebook or Goodreads page, X or through my website.

And if you’d like to keep up to date with all my latest releases, just sign up at the website link below. Your email address will never be shared, and you can unsubscribe at any time.

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Thank you so much for your support; it is hugely appreciated.

Angela Marsons

www.angelamarsons-books.com

FIRST BLOOD

A DETECTIVE KIM STONE NOVEL

In the darkness of a cold December morning, Detective Kim Stone steps through the doors of Halesowen Police Station. She’s about to meet her team for the first time. The victim of her next case is about to meet his killer…

When the body of a young man is found beheaded and staked to the ground in a secluded area of the Clent Hills, Kim and her new squad rush to the crime scene.

Searching the victim’s home, Kim discovers a little girl’s bedroom and a hidden laptop. Why is his sister relieved to hear he’s dead – and where is the rest of his family?

As Kim begins to unearth the dark secrets at the heart of the case, D.C. Stacey Wood finds a disturbing resemblance to the recent murder of Lester Jackson. But that’s not all Stacey finds…

She’s convinced there is a link between the victims and a women’s shelter run by Marianne Forbes, Lester’s niece. A child of the care system herself, Kim knows all too well what it means to be vulnerable. Could Marianne be the key to cracking this case?

With the killer about to strike again, Kim is in deep water with a rookie squad. Inexperienced Stacey is showing signs of brilliance but struggling to hold her nerve and, while D.S. Bryant is reliable and calm, D.S. Dawson is a liability. With his home life in pieces, his volatile behaviour is already fracturing her fragile new team.

Can Kim bring Dawson in line and pull her crew together in time to catch the killer before another life is taken? This time, one of her own could be in terrible danger…

Discover where it all began for Kim and her team. An absolutely heart-stopping mystery thriller that will keep you glued to the pages, reading late into the night. Perfect for Kim Stone fans and new readers to the million-copy bestselling series.

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SILENT SCREAM

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 1

Even the darkest secrets can’t stay buried forever…

Five figures gather round a shallow grave. They had all taken turns to dig. An adult-sized hole would have taken longer. An innocent life had been taken but the pact had been made. Their secrets would be buried, bound in blood …

Years later, a headmistress is found brutally strangled, the first in a spate of gruesome murders which shock the Black Country.

But when human remains are discovered at a former children’s home, disturbing secrets are also unearthed. D.I. Kim Stone fast realises she’s on the hunt for a twisted individual whose killing spree spans decades.

As the body count rises, Kim needs to stop the murderer before they strike again. But to catch the killer, can Kim confront the demons of her own past before it’s too late?

Get it here!

EVIL GAMES

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 2

The greater the Evil, the more deadly the game…

When a rapist is found mutilated in a brutal attack, Detective Kim Stone and her team are called in to bring a swift resolution. But, as more vengeful killings come to light, it soon becomes clear that there is someone far more sinister at work.

With the investigation quickly gathering momentum, Kim finds herself exposed to great danger and in the sights of a lethal individual undertaking their own twisted experiment.

Up against a sociopath who seems to know her every weakness, for Detective Stone, each move she makes could be deadly. As the body count starts to mount, Kim will have to dig deeper than ever before to stop the killing.

And this time – it’s personal.

Get it here!

LOST GIRLS

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 3

Two girls go missing. Only one will return.

The couple that offers the highest amount will see their daughter again. The losing couple will not. Make no mistake. One child will die.

When nine-year-old best friends Charlie and Amy disappear, two families are plunged into a living nightmare. A text message confirms the unthinkable; that the girls are the victims of a terrifying kidnapping.

And when a second text message pits the two families against each other for the life of their children, the clock starts ticking for D.I. Kim Stone and the squad.

Seemingly outwitted at every turn, as they uncover a trail of bodies, Stone realises that these ruthless killers might be the most deadly she has ever faced. And that their chances of bringing the girls home alive, are getting smaller by the hour…

Untangling a dark web of secrets from the families’ past might hold the key to solving this case. But can Kim stay alive long enough to do so? Or will someone’s child pay the ultimate price?

Get it here!

PLAY DEAD

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 4

The dead don’t tell secrets… unless you listen.

The girl’s smashed-in face stared unseeing up to the blue sky, soil spilling out of her mouth. A hundred flies hovered above the bloodied mess.

Westerley research facility is not for the faint-hearted. A ‘body farm’ investigating human decomposition, its inhabitants are corpses in various states of decay. But when Detective Kim Stone and her team discover the fresh body of a young woman, it seems a killer has discovered the perfect cover to bury their crime.

Then a second girl is attacked and left for dead, her body drugged and mouth filled with soil. It’s clear to Stone and the team that a serial killer is at work – but just how many bodies will they uncover? And who is next?

As local reporter, Tracy Frost, disappears, the stakes are raised. The past seems to hold the key to the killer’s secrets – but can Kim uncover the truth before a twisted, damaged mind claims another victim …?

An utterly addictive thriller from the No.1 bestselling author Angela Marsons.

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BLOOD LINES

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 5

How do you catch a killer who leaves no trace?

A victim killed with a single, precise stab to the heart appears at first glance to be a robbery gone wrong. A caring, upstanding social worker lost to a senseless act of violence. But for Detective Kim Stone, something doesn’t add up.

When a local drug addict is found murdered with an identical wound, Kim knows instinctively that she is dealing with the same killer. But with nothing to link the two victims except the cold, calculated nature of their death, this could be her most difficult case yet.

Desperate to catch the twisted individual, Kim’s focus on the case is threatened when she receives a chilling letter from Dr Alex Thorne, the sociopath who Kim put behind bars. And this time, Alex is determined to hit where it hurts most, bringing Kim face-to-face with the woman responsible for the death of Kim’s little brother – her own mother.

As the body count increases, Kim and her team unravel a web of dark secrets, bringing them closer to the killer. But one of their own could be in mortal danger. Only this time, Kim might not be strong enough to save them…

A totally gripping thriller that will have you hooked from the very first page to the final, dramatic twist.

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DEAD SOULS

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 6

The truth was dead and buried… until now.

When a collection of human bones is unearthed during a routine archaeological dig, a Black Country field suddenly becomes a complex crime scene for Detective Kim Stone.

As the bones are sorted, it becomes clear that the grave contains more than one victim. The bodies hint at unimaginable horror, bearing the markings of bullet holes and animal traps.

Forced to work alongside Detective Travis, with whom she shares a troubled past, Kim begins to uncover a dark secretive relationship between the families who own the land in which the bodies were found.

But while Kim is immersed in one of the most complicated investigations she’s ever led, her team are caught up in a spate of sickening hate crimes. Kim is close to revealing the truth behind the murders, yet soon finds one of her own is in jeopardy - and the clock is ticking. Can she solve the case and save them from grave danger – before it’s too late?

An addictive, sinister crime thriller that will have readers on the edge of their seat.

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BROKEN BONES

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 7

They thought they were safe. They were wrong.

The murder of a young prostitute and a baby found abandoned on the same winter night signals the start of a disturbing investigation for Detective Kim Stone – one which brings her face to face with someone from her own horrific childhood.

As more sex workers are murdered in quick succession, each death more violent than the last, Kim and her team realise that the initial killing was no one-off frenzied attack, but a twisted serial killer preying on the vulnerable.

At the same time, the search begins for the desperate woman who left her newborn baby at the station – but what looks like a tragic abandonment turns even more sinister when a case of modern slavery is uncovered.

The two investigations bring the team into a terrifying world of human exploitation and cruelty – and a showdown that puts Kim’s life at risk as shocking secrets from her own past come to light.

A gripping crime thriller from the No.1 bestselling author – you will be hooked until the final jaw-dropping twist.

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DYING TRUTH

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 8

How far would you go to protect your darkest secrets?

When teenager Sadie Winter jumps from the roof of her school, her death is ruled as suicide – a final devastating act from a troubled girl. But then the broken body of a young boy is discovered at the same school and it’s clear to Detective Kim Stone that these deaths are not tragic accidents.

As Kim and her team begin to unravel a dark web of secrets, one of the teachers could hold the key to the truth. Yet just as she is about to break her silence, she is found dead. 

With more children’s lives at risk, Kim has to consider the unthinkable - whether a fellow pupil could be responsible for the murders. Investigating the psychology of children that kill brings the detective into contact with her former adversary, Dr Alex Thorne – the sociopath who has made it her life’s work to destroy Kim. 

Desperate to catch the killer, Kim finds a link between the recent murders and an initiation prank that happened at the school decades earlier. But saving these innocent lives comes at a cost – and one of Kim’s own might pay the ultimate price.

The utterly addictive crime thriller from the No.1 bestselling author – you will be gripped until the final shocking twist.

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FATAL PROMISE

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 9

Eeny meeny, miney, moe. Who lives, who dies only I know.

When the body of a doctor is discovered brutally murdered in local woodland, Detective Kim Stone is shocked to discover the victim is Gordon Cordell – a man linked to a previous case she worked on involving the death of a young school girl. Gordon has a chequered past, but who would want him dead?

As the investigation gets underway, Gordon’s son is involved in a horrific car crash which leaves him fighting for his life. Kim's sure this was no accident. 

Then the body of a woman is found dead in suspicious circumstances and Kim makes a disturbing link between the victims and Russells Hall Hospital. The same hospital where Gordon worked.

With Kim and her team still grieving the loss of one of their own, they’re at their weakest and facing one of the most dangerous serial killers they’ve ever encountered. Everything is on the line. Can Kim keep her squad together and find the killer before he claims his next victim?

The killer is picking off his victims at a terrifying pace, and he’s not finished yet. 

From multi-million copy number one bestseller Angela Marsons comes another absolutely nail-biting, edge-of-your-seat crime thriller.

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DEAD MEMORIES

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 10

She ruined their lives. Now they’re going to destroy hers.

‘Someone is recreating every traumatic point in your life. They are doing this to make you suffer, to make you hurt and the only possible end game can be death. Your death.’

On the fourth floor of Chaucer House, two teenagers are found chained to a radiator. The boy is dead but the girl is alive. For Detective Kim Stone every detail of the scene mirrors her own terrifying experience with her brother Mikey, when they lived in the same tower block thirty years ago.

When the bodies of a middle-aged couple are discovered in a burnt-out car, Kim can’t ignore the chilling similarity to the deaths of Erica and Keith – the only loving parents Kim had ever known. 

Faced with a killer who is recreating traumatic events from her past, Kim must face the brutal truth that someone wants to hurt her in the worst way possible. Desperate to stay on the case, she is forced to work with profiler Alison Lowe who has been called in to observe and monitor Kim’s behaviour.

Kim has spent years catching dangerous criminals and protecting the innocent. But with a killer firmly fixed on destroying Kim, can she solve this complex case and save her own life or will she become the final victim?

The heart-stopping and totally addictive crime thriller from multi-million copy number one bestseller Angela Marsons will have you completely hooked.

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CHILD’S PLAY

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 11

Finally we’re playing a game. A game that I have chosen. I give one last push of the roundabout and stand back. 'You really should have played with me,’ I tell her again although I know she can no longer hear.

Late one summer evening, Detective Kim Stone arrives at Haden Hill Park to the scene of a horrific crime: a woman in her sixties tied to a swing with barbed wire and an X carved into the back of her neck. 

The victim, Belinda Evans, was a retired college Professor of Child Psychology. As Kim and her team search her home, they find an overnight bag packed and begin to unravel a complex relationship between Belinda and her sister Veronica.

Then two more bodies are found bearing the same distinctive markings, and Kim knows she is on the hunt for a ritualistic serial killer. Linking the victims, Kim discovers they were involved in annual tournaments for gifted children and were on their way to the next event. 

With DS Penn immersed in the murder case of a young man, Kim and her team are already stretched and up against one of the most ruthless killer’s they’ve ever encountered. The clues lie in investigating every child who attended the tournaments, dating back decades.

Faced with hundreds of potential leads and a bereaved sister who is refusing to talk, can Kim get inside the mind of a killer and stop another murder before it’s too late?

The addictive crime thriller from multi-million copy, number one bestseller Angela Marsons explores the dark side of child prodigies and will have you absolutely hooked.

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KILLING MIND

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 12

It had seemed so simple. Get in, get the information, get out. But now they were getting inside her mind and she didn’t know how to stop them…

When Detective Kim Stone is called to the home of Samantha Brown, she finds the young woman lying in bed with her throat cut and a knife in her hand. With no sign of forced entry or struggle, Kim rules her death a tragic suicide.

But a visit to Samantha’s parents rings alarm bells for Kim – there’s something they’re not telling her. And, when she spots a clue in a photograph, Kim realises she’s made a huge mistake. Samantha didn’t take her own life, she was murdered.

Then a young man’s body is found in a local lake with his throat cut and Kim makes a link between the victim and Samantha. They both spent time at Unity Farm, a retreat for people seeking an alternative way of life.

Beneath the retreat’s cosy façade, Kim and her team uncover a sinister community preying on the emotionally vulnerable.

Sending one of her own undercover into Unity Farm is high risk but it’s Kim’s only hope if she is to catch a killer – someone Kim is convinced the victims knew and trusted.

With Bryant distracted by the emergence of a harrowing case close to his heart, and an undercover officer in way over her head, Kim’s neck is on the line like never before. Can she protect those closest to her before another life is taken?

An unbelievably gripping crime thriller from multi-million copy bestseller Angela Marsons that will have you hooked on the Detective Kim Stone series.

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DEADLY CRY

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 13

You have to stop me from hurting anyone else. I don’t want to do these horrible things. Help me before I’m forced to do it again. And I will do it again because I have no choice. I’ve never had a choice.

In a busy shopping centre, a little girl clutches a teddy bear, clinging to it in the absence of her mother, Katrina. Hours later, Katrina’s body is discovered in an abandoned building. For Detective Kim Stone, it looks like a quick, functional murder. What was the motive for killing a young mother out shopping with her child?

Days later, a second victim is found in a local park, her neck broken just like Katrina’s and her six-year-old son missing.

But with Stacey working on another unsolved crime and another member of her team grieving the loss of a close relative, Kim is struggling to make inroads on what is fast becoming a complex case. And when a handwritten letter from the killer lands on Kim’s desk addressed to her, and pleading for help, she knows time is running out to bring the little boy home alive.

With the support of a handwriting analyst and profiler Alison Lowe, Kim and the team begin to get inside the mind of the killer and make a shocking discovery.

Some of the victims have scratch marks on their wrists.

But these are no random scratches. The killer is using them to communicate with someone. The question is… with whom?

And if Kim doesn’t find them soon another person will die.

The multi-million-copy bestselling Detective Kim Stone series is every bit as addictive, original and exciting as readers say and you’ll be hooked from the very first page. Nobody does it better than the Queen of Crime, Angela Marsons.

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TWISTED LIES

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 14

Her stomach lurches as she sits in the windowless room. He throws her phone to the ground, grinds it against the floor with the heel of his shoe and brings his face closer to hers. There was no turning back now, her life as she knew it was gone.

When the lifeless body of a man is found on an industrial estate, Detective Kim Stone arrives on the scene and discovers he’s been tortured in the worst way imaginable.

But as she breaks the devastating news to the victim’s wife, Diane Phipps, Kim can’t help feeling that something isn’t quite right about the woman's reaction.

Twenty-four hours later, the victim’s family disappears into thin air.

Then a second body is found staked to the ground in a local nature reserve.

Desperate to crack the case open quickly, Kim and her team unravel a vital clue – a fiercely guarded secret that links both victims and could cost even more lives.

A secret that some police officers are also protecting.

Faced with deceit from those she should be able to trust, family members who won’t talk, and local reporter, Tracy Frost, opening a can of worms on the case of a woman murdered by her husband a year ago – Kim is in deep water like never before.

Kim must find the motive if she is to find the killer who is systematically targeting and torturing his victims. But can she unlock the shocking truth and stop him before he strikes again?

An absolutely jaw-dropping crime thriller from the number one, multi-million-copy bestselling author of the incredibly addictive Detective Kim Stone series.

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STOLEN ONES

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 15

25 years ago he took a girl. Today he takes another.

One August afternoon, eight-year-old Grace Lennard skips into the garden of the childcare centre she attends and vanishes into thin air.

Hours before, Steven Harte walks into Halesowen police station and confesses to having information that will lead Detective Kim Stone to Melody Jones – the little girl who was taken from a playground exactly twenty-five years ago. But something about his confession is off and Kim dismisses his claims.

Arriving at the scene of Grace’s disappearance, Kim finds a chilling piece of evidence: the heart bracelet belonging to Melody. Now Kim must play Steven’s twisted game if she is to find Grace alive. But they’re going to play by Kim’s rules.

With only twenty-four hours to make every second of Steven’s interrogation count, and scan his behaviour for hidden clues, Kim and her team soon link Steven to the abduction of several vulnerable girls – two were kept for a year and then released, unharmed – but where are Melody and the others?

Then small bones are discovered in the grounds of a local park, and Kim fears the worst.

Kim may be close to convicting a killer, but there’s another who wants revenge against her – Dr Alex Thorne – the evil woman Kim did her best to keep behind bars. Alex is about to reveal a shocking secret to Kim that will hit her where it hurts the most. And if Kim lets Alex mess with her head, she might not be able to save Grace and find the other missing girls in time.

An edge-of-your-seat thriller that will leave your heart in your mouth. You will be totally hooked on the utterly addictive, number one, multi-million-copy bestselling Detective Kim Stone series.

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SIX GRAVES

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 16

It’s a typical teenage bedroom with posters covering the walls and clothes littering the floor. But the girl lying on her bed, wearing a delicate chain around her neck, is lifeless. A circle of red stains her white vest top and Kim feels a sharp stab of sadness. How had the girl’s mother looked down at her sleeping child and pulled the trigger?

When Detective Kim Stone rushes to the scene of a house fire, she’s shocked to discover it’s claimed the lives of two teenage children and their parents. But this tragedy is not quite as it seems. Each body is marked by a gunshot wound and the mother, Helen Daynes, is holding the gun.

The case sparks painful childhood memories for Kim who suffered at the hands of her own abusive mother. As she begins to untangle the dark web of secrets within the Daynes family, Kim and her team discover Helen had a history of clinical depression. But could it have driven her to murder her loved ones?

Then Kim uncovers a tiny, vital clue in Helen’s bedroom that throws the investigation wide open. Could someone else have killed the Daynes family?

With the case only just underway, a deadly threat is made to Kim’s own life. Years ago, she rescued two little girls from the clutches of a dangerous psychopath who has just escaped prison and is coming for her.

A witness protection officer glued to her side, Kim must bite back her fear, as she keeps digging into the Daynes’s background and soon hits upon a shocking secret from Helen’s past that could crack the case. With the remaining family members in danger, Kim is under pressure like never before.

The monster circling Kim raises the stakes when he threatens the life of another innocent victim. He’s leading Kim straight to him. Forced to go against direct instructions from her superiors, will that one fateful decision cost her more than her job?

An absolutely nail-bitingly tense page-turner that will have you gasping out loud. You won’t come up for air until you’ve reached the twisty, breathtaking ending. Fans of Karin Slaughter, Mark Billingham and Robert Dugoni will love Six Graves.

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HIDDEN SCARS

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 17

While Jamie’s cold, lifeless body lay in the morgue, Detective Kim Stone stared at the empty board in the incident room and felt her anger boil. Why were there no photos, details, or lines of enquiry?

When a nineteen-year-old boy, Jamie Mills, is found hanging from a tree in a local park, his death is ruled a suicide. Detective Kim Stone’s instincts tell her something isn’t right – but it’s not her investigation and her temporary replacement is too busy waiting for the next big case to be asking the right questions.

Why would a seemingly healthy boy choose to end his life?

Why does his mother show no sign of emotional distress at the loss of her son?

Still mending her broken mind and body from her last harrowing case, Kim is supposed to be easing back into work gently. But then she finds a crucial, overlooked detail: Jamie had a recent injury that would have made it impossible for him to climb the tree. He must have been murdered.

Quickly taking back charge of her team and the case, Kim visits Jamie’s parents and is shocked to hear that they had sent him to a clinic to ‘cure’ him of his sexuality. According to his mother, Jamie was introverted and prone to mood swings. Yet his friend speaks of a vibrant, outgoing boy.

The clues to smashing open this disturbing case lie behind the old Victorian walls of the clinic, run by the Gardner family. They claim that patients come of their own accord and are free to leave at any time. But why are those that attended the clinic so afraid to speak of what happens there? And where did the faded restraint marks identified on Jamie’s wrists come from?

Then the body of a young woman is found dead by suffocation and Kim makes two chilling discoveries. The victim spent time at the clinic too, and her death was also staged to look like a suicide.

Scarred from an ordeal that nearly took her life, is Kim strong enough to stop a terrifying killer from silencing the clinic’s previous patients one by one?

A compulsive page-turner that will have your heart hammering in your chest and leave you absolutely reeling when you discover the explosive final twist. If you’re a fan of Karin Slaughter, Val McDermid and Robert Dugoni, you’ll love Hidden Scars.

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DEADLY FATE

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 18

Kim knelt next to the woman lying on the cold ground of the graveyard. Eleven knife marks were visible on her clothing and her bright blonde hair was red with blood. Kim shivered as she looked at the dark brown eyes staring upwards and the final slash across the victim’s mouth. Her words silenced forever…

Late one evening, as the final church bell rings out, the body of local psychic Sandra Deakin is found in the church’s graveyard with multiple stab wounds. The first on the scene, Detective Kim Stone tries to picture who would carry out such a violent attack. She’s sure of one thing: this murder was deeply personal.

The last people to see Sandra alive were a group of women who had a reading with her the night before she died. As Kim and her team pay them a visit, they soon learn that each of the women is lying about why they wanted Sandra’s help… and that one of them is connected to an unsolved murder.

Kim smashes open a case that has been closed for years, determined to chase down every lead and find justice for both victims. And as she delves into Sandra’s life, she learns that Sandra was banned from the church grounds… and had been receiving death threats.

Then the broken body of a nineteen-year-old boy is found outside a call centre for a psychic hotline – a single slash across his mouth just like Sandra’s. Kim and her team are now racing against time to understand what has triggered these frenzied attacks, and stop a twisted killer before they strike again.

But they might be too late… as the curtains go up at a local psychic show, Kim sits in the audience with a feeling of utter dread – certain the killer is among them.

Totally addictive with a final twist that will leave you shouting out loud, you’ll want to inhale Deadly Fate in one sitting. Fans of Karin Slaughter, Val McDermid and Robert Dugoni will love the new crime thriller from the number one multi-million-copy bestselling author Angela Marsons.

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BAD BLOOD

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 19

The victim is lying under the trees, arms lifted above his head, unnaturally still. His muscles are slack. His eyes are empty. There are no signs of life. But he is not quite dead… 

When Detective Kim Stone races to the crime scene, there is no body waiting for her: the paramedics are desperately trying to save the victim’s life. But there was something very strange about the way the man was found, his arms raised above his head, his legs spread apart. When he dies on the way to the hospital, Kim is certain she’s on the hunt for a killer… but all evidence at the scene has been destroyed.

The dead man, Eric Gould, seems ordinary, until the team dig into his past. As a teenager, he was locked away for attacking his girlfriend, and Kim suspects he was hurting his fiancé now. Was someone trying to stop history repeating?

Then another man is found on the verge of death, his bones broken to force him into an unnatural shape. The team realise the killer is sending a message – the victims’ bodies are spelling out their sins. As boys, they were both part of a group of six who bragged about their terrible crimes. But they were children then, and when she sees the grief on the faces of their loved ones now, Kim swears to find answers.

Is someone finally getting revenge… or do they think these men are still dangerous? The killer is threatening to strike again, and the only way Kim can crack the case is by tracking down the rest of the six first.

But then a revelation about what one of her team is suffering makes Kim understand why people take the law into their own hands. Do these victims deserve what’s coming to them? Or is there even more to fear from their brutal killer?

Unputdownable from start to finish, Bad Blood is a brilliantly gripping crime thriller with a reveal you’ll never see coming. Fans of Karin Slaughter, Robert Dugoni and Val McDermid will love the latest compulsive read from multi-million-copy bestseller Angela Marsons.

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GUILTY MOTHERS

DETECTIVE KIM STONE CRIME THRILLER SERIES BOOK 20

She lies on the floor, her blue eyes wide and unseeing, arms outstretched as if begging for help. Kneeling next to her, wearing a sequinned purple ballgown and holding a knife in shaking hands, is her daughter…

In a quiet kitchen, where two mugs wait by the kettle to be filled, Sheryl Hawne lies in a pool of blood. Her only daughter, Katie, is found at her side, still clutching the murder weapon and apparently incapable of speech. To Detective Kim Stone, the case seems open and shut. But Katie is in no state to be questioned, so Kim and the team must dig deep to understand what triggered this brutal act.

Soon, they learn that Katie participated in beauty pageants as a child, and her mother kept a shrine to her achievements. As Kim gazes at the golden trophies and shiny rosettes, she is forced to wonder if this was what set Katie on the path to murder…

But then Kim receives a shocking call. Another woman is dead. And with Katie safely locked up, she cannot be the killer. The second victim also entered her daughter in pageants, and a broken tiara is found thrust down her throat. Someone clearly feels that these mothers are guilty – and that they deserve to die. Forcing back the memories of her own monstrous mother, Kim vows to find justice for these women, no matter what pain they caused.

Now more than a day behind their killer, Kim races to learn more about a competitive world where appearances are everything and mothers will go to any lengths to ensure their daughters triumph. Buried somewhere in this dark past is the key to unlocking the case… but will Kim be able to find it before another family is destroyed forever?

The twentieth book in the international, multi-million-copy bestselling series, Guilty Mothers will have you glued to the pages. Fans of Karin Slaughter, Val McDermid and Robert Dugoni will devour this gripping crime thriller. 

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IF ONLY

A PERFECT, FUNNY AND UPLIFTING ROMANTIC COMEDY

Find love. Have a baby. Ditch the mother-in-law from hell. Three best friends, each wishing for the one thing they want the most. But what if they’re searching for happiness in all the wrong places?

Cher is head over heels for her new boss. He’s gorgeous, smart and funny but he barely even notices her except to ask for a coffee refill. How can she get him to see that she’s the perfect girl for him? 

Sarah is longing for a baby with the man she loves. The only trouble is David is already married. Will he finally leave his wife so they can be together?  

Deb should be looking forward to her wedding with lovely fiancé Mark but with her mother-in-law from hell Margie taking control of everything, will her dream day turn into her worst nightmare? 

So, when one summer evening, over several glasses of wine, Cher, Sarah and Deb stumble across an old book on Sarah’s shelf and drunkenly decide to cast a wishing spell, they don’t think for one minute that it will come true. It’s just three best friends having a laugh and throwing some herbs around the garden. Or is it? 

Fabulously fun, full of laugh-out-loud ‘I’ve so done that’ moments and plenty of emotional twists and turns that will keep you refilling your wine and racing through to the end, If Only is the perfect read for fans of Shari Low and Sophie Kinsella.

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THE FORGOTTEN WOMAN

A GRIPPING, EMOTIONAL ROLLERCOASTER READ YOU'LL DEVOUR IN ONE SITTING

Two ordinary women. Two damaged lives. One friendship that would save them both

Kit Mason has lived a life of unimaginable pain. An ex-prostitute, she has fled the clutches of an abusive pimp and now finds herself living hand to mouth in a new city, without anyone to help her.

Frances Thornton seems to be living the perfect life. A lawyer from a privileged background, her perfect façade hides the painful secrets that still haunt her.

Brought together by their attempts to conquer their addictions in an Alcoholics Anonymous meeting, the two women strike up an unlikely friendship.

But can they find strength in each other – or will the demons of their past catch up with them?

A compelling, moving and ultimately uplifting novel about overcoming the very worst life can throw at you and starting over. The perfect read for fans of Jodi Picoult and Amanda Prowse.

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Previously published as My Name Is

DEAR MOTHER

A GRIPPING AND EMOTIONAL STORY THAT WILL MAKE YOU SOB YOUR HEART OUT

Three sisters. Three childhoods ruined. One chance to heal the scars of the past.

After their death of their cruel and abusive mother, estranged sisters Alex, Catherine and Beth reunite once again.

Alex, the youngest, is a bitter, unhappy woman who refuses to face the horrors of her childhood. Finding solace in a bottle, her life is spiralling dangerously out of control.

Eldest child, Catherine, has strived for success, despite her difficult upbringing. But behind the carefully constructed façade lies a secret that could shatter her world forever.

Beth, the middle child, bore the greatest burden. But having blocked out the cruelty they suffered, she remained with their mother until her death. Now she must confront the devastating reality of the past.

Brought together as strangers, the sisters embark on a painful journey to heal themselves and each other. Can they finally put their terrible childhoods to rest and start over?

An emotional, heart-breaking and compelling novel for readers of Diane Chamberlain, Amanda Prowse and Kelly Rimmer.

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Previously published as The Middle Child

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

My first thanks, as ever, go to my partner in crime and life (and now wife) Julie. I know I say this every time, but this one was a journey and a half. From the moment I mentioned to Julie that I wanted to write something different to the normal police procedural, she was on board with ideas, enthusiasm and encouragement. Throughout the process, there were many doubts, but she always talked me back from the edge and helped me persevere with the idea that had been in my head. I can never emphasise enough just how crucial a part of the process she is and that I honestly could not do this without her.

Although no longer with us, my eternal thanks goes to my mum, who would tirelessly spread the book news to anyone who would listen.

Thank you to my dad and to my sister Lyn, her husband Clive and my nephews Matthew and Christopher for their support too.

Thank you to Amanda and Steve Nicol, who support us in so many ways, and to Kyle Nicol for book spotting my books everywhere he goes.

I would like to thank the awesome team at Bookouture for their continued enthusiasm for Kim Stone and her stories.

Special thanks to my editor, Ruth Tross, who has no idea how important she has been to the production of this book. From her encouragement, patience and support to her practical suggestions and editorial input, she has been there every step of the way. There have been few occasions in my writing career where the understanding of my editor has been so intrinsic to the process, but on this occasion, I couldn’t have completed this book without her.

To Kim Nash (Mama Bear), who works tirelessly to promote our books and protect us from the world and has offered a much appreciated helping hand through this one. To Noelle Holten, who has limitless enthusiasm and passion for our work, and to Sarah Hardy and Jess Readett, who also champion our books at every opportunity.

A special thanks must go to Janette Currie who has copy-edited the Kim Stone books from the very beginning. Her knowledge of the stories has ensured a continuity for which I’m extremely grateful.

Thank you to the fantastic Kim Slater who has been my writing buddy and an incredible support to me for many years now. Our friendship formed before either of us were published, and our writing journeys have been travelled together. Massive thanks to Catherine Thomson; also to the fabulous Renita D’Silva and Caroline Mitchell, all writers that I follow and read voraciously and without whom this journey would be impossible. Huge thanks to the growing family of Bookouture authors who continue to amuse, encourage and inspire me on a daily basis.

My eternal gratitude goes to all the wonderful bloggers and reviewers who have taken the time to get to know Kim Stone and follow her story. These wonderful people shout loudly and share generously not because it is their job, but because it is their passion. I will never tire of thanking this community for their support of both myself and my books. Thank you all so much.

Massive thanks to all my fabulous readers, especially the ones that have taken time out of their busy day to visit me on my website, Facebook page, Goodreads or X.

PUBLISHING TEAM

Turning a manuscript into a book requires the efforts of many people. The publishing team at Bookouture would like to acknowledge everyone who contributed to this publication.

Audio

Alba Proko

Melissa Tran

Sinead O’Connor

Commercial

Lauren Morrissette

Hannah Richmond

Imogen Allport

Data and analysis

Mark Alder

Mohamed Bussuri

Editorial

Ruth Tross

Imogen Allport

Copyeditor

Janette Currie

Proofreader

Laura Kincaid

Marketing

Alex Crow

Melanie Price

Occy Carr

Cíara Rosney

Martyna Młynarska

Operations and distribution

Marina Valles

Stephanie Straub

Joe Morris

Production

Hannah Snetsinger

Mandy Kullar

Jen Shannon

Ria Clare

Publicity

Kim Nash

Noelle Holten

Jess Readett

Sarah Hardy

Rights and contracts

Peta Nightingale

Richard King

Saidah Graham

We – both author and publisher – hope you enjoyed this book. We believe that you can become a reader at any time in your life, but we’d love your help to give the next generation a head start.

Did you know that 7% of children don’t have a book of their own in their home, rising to 12% in disadvantaged families*? We’d like to try to change that by asking you to consider the role you could play in helping to build readers of the future.

We’d love you to get involved by sharing, borrowing, reading, buying or talking about a book with a child in your life and spreading the love of reading. We want to make sure the next generation continues to have access to books, wherever they come from.

Click HERE for a list of brilliant books to share with a child – as voted by Goodreads readers.

Thank you.

*As reported by the National Literacy Trust in 2023

Published by Bookouture in 2024

An imprint of Storyfire Ltd.

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London EC4Y 0DZ

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The authorised representative in the EEA is Hachette Ireland

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Copyright © Angela Marsons, 2024

Angela Marsons has asserted her right to be identified

as the author of this work.

All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored in any retrieval system, or transmitted, in any form or by any means, electronic, mechanical, photocopying, recording or otherwise, without the prior written permission of the publishers.

eBook ISBN: 978-1-83525-987-0

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events other than those clearly in the public domain, are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.