I pick up the remaining few pages of Kira’s journal. Perhaps a change of focus will freshen my tired mind.

As is always the way, it’s one of the last pages that gives me the breakthrough. There, among her ramblings about me, is a passage that makes my heart beat faster as the jigsaw in my mind begins to form a clear picture.

If I’m right, there’s a serial killer targeting Casperton with a bizarre way of selecting his next victim.

I grab my iPad and begin to seek out the registries Alfonse has shown me. I type in the hacked password he gave me and start my search.

First I look at the local births and marriages register, tracing back the family tree of Evie Starr. Knowing she had two daughters and a son helps and it doesn’t take long to pinpoint their dates of birth.

Finding the son’s children is easy as they will have the family name. He is the proud father of two sons. Both are unmarried so I can strike them from my thoughts.

I cross-reference the dates of birth of the two daughters against the register of marriages. Using their married names, I return to the dates of birth and check for any children. One has two daughters but neither carries the name I’m looking for.

Next I look at the second daughter and learn she’s been married twice. I’ve been looking for children from her second marriage. The first one only lasted two years but she’d produced a pair of twins.

There in a small font is the name I am looking for. To be certain I have the right person, I enter her name into the search box. It comes back with one entry. Hers.

I realise with a jolt I’ve gone about this the long way. If I’d started with her name and traced backwards I would have gotten the same verification of my theory two or three hours ago.

I call Chief Watson. He doesn’t answer so I leave a message and call Alfonse.

He listens as I tell him my theory and the research I’ve done. He agrees with my logic and promises the information I need within five minutes.

Feeling adrenaline pulse through me, I try the chief again. He answers with a gruff voice laden with the nuances of the recently awoken.

45

The chief looks extra stressed as I stride into his office. One hand appears to be fixed to his temple as he speaks into the phone. The fact he’s not getting any joy with his requests for help shows on every crease of his face.

The phone slams down and he glares at me as if it’s my fault. ‘Are you positive about this, Boulder?’

‘I wouldn’t have told you if I wasn’t.’ I pass across the printouts I’ve brought with me and hope he notices the needle in my voice. He can treat his subordinates however he likes, but I don’t take insults from anyone.

He scans the pages and gives a terse nod. ‘You’re right. They are connected.’ He grabs a folder off his desk and waves at me to follow him as he moves towards the door.

As we pass the front desk he leans over it, invading the desk sergeant’s personal space. ‘Get every officer you have the number for into this office in the next twenty minutes. I don’t care whether they’re traffic, detectives, off duty or retired. I want them here by the time I call you. Am I understood?’

He doesn’t wait for an answer, so I match his pace as he hurries outside. I climb into his car without bothering to ask if he wants me along.

The chief stands on the gas with vehemence. The tyres lay down a strip of rubber as the car shoots out of the parking lot with lights and sirens in full operation.

‘That’s a good call you made, Boulder.’ He sighs as his mind realigns itself from administration to action. ‘What put you onto it?’

‘I was reading Kira Niemeyer’s diary when I found out her cousin had discovered a person who’d hanged themselves. I remembered Kira’s body was found by Mrs Halliburton who is the sister of Paul Johnson. Two coincidences like that seemed a bit of a stretch, so I looked into the person that found Johnson’s body. She turned out to be Evie Starr’s granddaughter.’

He negotiates a corner so fast the protest of tyres can be heard over the siren.

Upon reaching our destination, the chief screeches to a halt on the wide road and jumps out. I’m a half pace behind him.

He bangs on the door of a stereotypical house until the glass splinters. Still he bangs and hollers until a light comes on and a dark shape appears behind the glass.

The door opens to reveal a man shaking off the effects of the sudden awakening. Stepping back, I can see other lights in the house turn on.

‘Mr Masterton, I’m Chief Watson and I need to talk to you at once. You are not in any trouble but members of your family may be in danger.’

Masterton looks at me, then the chief and back to me, his brain still too near sleep to process the information it is being given.

I step forward and usher him backwards. ‘Your family are in danger. Get everybody in the house downstairs. Now!’

My last word being shouted jolts something inside him. He stumbles up the stairs shouting names as he goes.

Two minutes later his family are gathered in the lounge. There’s a son of college age, another in his mid-teens and a wife. All of them are sleep-tousled and the wife’s expression is that of a professional lemon taster. A cat stalks along the floor then leaps into the lap of the youngest son.

The chief points at the elder son. ‘When Frederick here found the body of Evie Starr, we believe he was being watched.’

‘By whom?’ Even in her current state, the sour-faced woman gets her grammar correct.

‘The person who killed her and dumped her body there.’

‘I presume you’re connecting that lady with the two murders in the Gazette?’ Again it’s the woman who speaks. It doesn’t take much deduction to work out who rules this particular roost.

The chief raises a hand towards his temple only to stop the movement at shoulder height. ‘Our intelligence leads us to think the killer watches to see who finds the bodies. Once he’s identified them he selects a member of their family as his next victim.’

What little colour is in their faces drains away as the chief’s words sink in.

‘We need you to provide us with a list of your family members, their addresses and phone numbers.’

‘Beth. What about Beth? She was with me. Won’t she be at risk as well?’

I turn to Frederick. ‘We’re going there next. Don’t worry, she’ll be fine.’

Mrs Masterton takes control of the situation. ‘Frederick. Will you bring me a pen, some paper and my cell please? The sooner we do this, the sooner they can go and warn her.’

Her eyes lock onto the chief. ‘What happens when I give you this list?’

‘I’ll send officers to everyone’s house and your entire family will be escorted to the station for the rest of the night. We’ll look at getting some more comfortable accommodation for you tomorrow. We’ve only just made this connection and don’t have anywhere else we can guarantee your safety.’

‘Is it safe to go upstairs and get dressed?’ It’s the younger son who asks. He’s close to tears and has an arm round the father.

I give him a reassuring smile. ‘I’m sure it is, but would you like me to go up and check for you?’

He nods so I make my way towards the stairs I’d passed on the way in. Not having any official capacity leaves me feeling like a voyeur. The chance to check through the house in case the killer is lying in wait is too good to pass up.

I give the house a thorough if unconcerned search. Any killer present is bound to have heard the chief’s banging and hollering. Half of what I’m looking for is signs of forced entry.

With both halves of my search coming up empty, I return to the lounge where the chief is on his cell, relaying the details noted down in Mrs Masterton’s neat script.