‘Yes, yes of course they’ll be able to.’

I press home my advantage as his smile is returning. ‘Good, because I want twenty men from you.’

‘What for, Boulder?’ There’s a scowl in the chief’s voice as I step all over his toes once again.

‘I want them to help your men guard Harriet’s family. You and all your men are stretched to breaking point. If the twenty men from the mayor can work in two shifts it’ll free up a lot of your guys. They can either work the case or get on with keeping order in town.’

I may be answering the chief, but I make sure my eyes never move from the mayor.

He licks his lips. Left and then right, just as he did when he was outside getting hassled by the crowd.

‘What type of men are you talking about?’

‘Big men. I don’t care if they are refuse collectors, teachers or your political advisors. As long as they are fit, strong and big enough to scare off most would-be attackers.’

‘I think that can be arranged.’

‘Don’t think, make it happen.’ There’s enough steel in the chief’s voice to repair the hole in the side of the Titanic.

The mayor’s back straightens and he draws himself to his full height. ‘When do you want them?’

‘As soon as you can get them here, please.’ I beat the chief to it, but it is a close thing. Him throwing one of his sarcasm laden replies at the mayor won’t help in the long term, especially if he has to sack the man’s son.

‘How many you got now?’ The chief is turning to Alfonse before the mayor has closed the door behind him.

‘Fifteen confirmed.’

A desk tidy flies past my head and shatters against a wall spraying pens, markers and paperclips across the room.

I look at the chief and see him forcing his knuckles against his temples so hard the skin is turning white.

There’s a feral look to his stare, but it’s aimed a thousand yards away. I imagine he’s thinking about what he’d do if he could get his hands on the killer. It’s something I’ve been thinking about too. At this particular moment, the chief is more likely to take the law into his own hands than I am.

60

The plate is slid onto the counter with a gentle burring scrape. I’m not hungry, but I know I need to eat.

I’ve forgone my usual chilli burger and settled for an old-fashioned plain burger. No cheese, no bacon, relish or anything save a few slices of raw onion. The server raised an eyebrow when I deviated from the norm, but the last thing I need today is more fire in my belly.

As expected it’s delicious. The meat tender and juicy, yet cooked enough to remove all traces of redness. There’s a couple of herbs added, but they’re so faint as to be unidentifiable.

While eating the burger I mull over the various things I’ve learned today; what must be done to prevent more lives being taken and various ways of catching the killer.

Nothing I come up with helps or makes any sense.

A thought about the way Oberton’s body was displayed is nagging at me. The cut across his belly reminds me of someone committing Hari-Kari but the way his head was half-severed contradicts what little I know about the act.

Using my cell, I Google the term. The first result directs me to Wikipedia. While not always the most reliable source, it gives a broad enough outline for me to see just how closely the traditions of Hari-Kari, or ‘Seppuku’ to give the act its proper term, have been observed.

The cutting of the neck is done by a ‘second’ or ‘Kaishakunin’. The aim is to cut the neck in such a way as to leave the head hanging as if bowed in shame. Reading on, I learn the ceremonial robes are often tucked under the knees to hold the body upright after the act has been completed.

As I finish the last of the wedges, I compare Oberton’s death to the others but come up with none which share the ritualistic elements. It’s as if he’s selecting the weapon or method of murder at random.

While it seems as if that’s what he is doing, I’m not so sure. His victims seemed unconnected until I realised how he chooses them.

Tracing back through Alfonse’s notes on the earlier victims, I look for a pattern or escalation in the weapons used, but with his latest kill, he’s downgraded from a gun to a sword.

He’s also changed from trying to mislead the investigators to leaving a blatant kill.

I’m getting nowhere with this train of thought, so I again try and figure out how he is identifying first the people who find his victims, and then their families.

There’re two parts to the solution and the first has to be that he’s watching the dump sites. The more I consider how else he could be getting this information, the more I’m convinced he’s got some kind of surveillance operation in place.

Once identified, he can trace the victim’s families in the same ways Alfonse and I have been following his trail.

He will have seen Harriet find Oberton today. Having got a face, he’ll have slipped into the crowd and followed them – her red One Direction T-shirt an easy thing to keep an eye on.

I remember following Olly’s car back to the station in a convoy led by a police cruiser. If the killer saw them getting into the car, all he’d have to do is run the license plate through the DMV website and pay the fee for a trace.

There may be a way we can use the site as a way to trace the killer. I call Alfonse and make the suggestion. He’s still sore at me, but agrees it may work.

I hope he gets a quick result. Either it will identify the killer or let him return to his task of tracing back the kills. I have a feeling the first one means something to the killer but until we’ve identified the first victim, we can’t make any assumptions or start looking for clues.

With that done, I move onto the next issue. The protection of Harriet and Olly’s family.

They’ve all been rounded up and are under guard at the motel. Fear has kept their grumbles to a minimum, but they’d all wanted to know how long they’d be there.

It is ironic we’ve had to half-imprison potential victims while the killer is running free.

Those staying in the motel are all connected to Harriet by birth or marriage. Looking at Alfonse’s notes, I check the family connections and see a distinct pattern emerging.

Each of the victims has a direct blood link to the finder of a body. Step relations and those affiliated by marriage have never been selected. It’s always genuine relatives who fall within his range of targets.

It’s tempting to share this news with the chief, but now we have a family under the protection of guards, it seems foolish to release some of them or think the killer won’t change his methods when thwarted by our security measures.

I pay the check and head for home. My plan is to get a shower and a couple of hours’ sleep. Everything has been taken care of so far and there’s nothing more I can do unless something else breaks or the killer is foolish enough to try and storm the motel.

61

Norm curses as he realises the extra work he’s going to have to do to put his new plan into action. If the idea wasn’t so good, there’s no way he’d let it delay adding to his tally.

Yet it’s just too perfect to pass up on. This is the kind of thing that will elevate him from being yet another serial killer to becoming a legend.

His story will become famous – the way he outsmarted the police, how he eluded capture despite being so close to the investigation.

The question that will be asked most of all: how he could be cold-blooded enough to kill his own family just to keep his pattern going?

Before he can set any of that into motion, he has to do some research, a spot of surveillance and a learning of routines.