He’d contacted her work colleagues, while I had banged on the neighbours’ doors until I got a response.

Neither of us had learned anything useful.

Fearing the worst for her, Doenig had picked the lock on her door and led the way through her house with his gun drawn.

The empty bottle of wine on the counter had given me hope – she may just be asleep and dead to the world. Doenig pushed each door open and shone his penlight into every room with the same result. Or lack of it.

Finding no sign of the woman, we switched the lights on and looked for clues as to her whereabouts.

Her cell was on the armrest of a chair, but when we tried to access it we found its battery dead. A tablet lifted from a table had been accessible. Her Facebook status was last updated at five twenty and complained about a busy day being a terrible way to prepare for a date.

I found a charger and plugged in her cell only to find it locked. Doenig had contemplated taking the cell so a tech expert could access its secrets but until we knew for certain she was missing he decided it was a step too far.

Her purse and cell being left at the house was enough for me, but he’d be bound by a set of unbreakable rules. You don’t become a special agent by being a loose cannon or habitually breaking the rules. The position is awarded to the most diligent and robotic of their ranks. Individual brilliance will help, but the main criteria will be team ethics, sound investigative procedure and an ingrained willingness to follow orders.

He justified not taking the cell by saying he could have someone tap into it and retrieve any information on it.

It was a compromise, but I accepted it as he was the one holding all the cards. One act of serious insubordination from me and I’d be out on my ear. Not something I was prepared to allow. Not only was I pursuing the killer for the families of those he’d killed, I was seeking justice for the victims, for the two friends he’d killed.

After finishing my coffee, I stretch out on my bed and wait for my restless mind to slow. Tomorrow will be another long day and I have a feeling when Norm’s cousin is found, things will get a whole lot worse.

69

The insistent ringing of my cell wakes me. My sister’s name on the display is worrying. Whatever she’s calling for won’t be good. Calls before six are never anything but bad news.

‘Jake, I’m scared. I’ve just found a body on the lane behind my house.’

Her words shake the sleep from me. I don’t bother to think of anything beyond the safety of my family.

‘Don’t bother calling the police. Get Ted and go to the station in person. Whatever happens, stay put until I arrive.’

A minute later I am dressed and calling Mother. She doesn’t answer so I keep trying as I leave the apartment and climb into my car.

She picks up when I’m halfway to her house. I tell her to get dressed and wait for me, then ring off before she can start asking questions.

I run three red lights on my way across town, but traffic violations are the least of my concerns. Right now all I care about is making sure my family are safe.

Mother’s door is open when I get there. She’s dressed in dark green velour sweats and has the kind of expression which inspires gargoyle sculptors.

‘I’ve spoken to your sister, young man.’

I’d hoped to be able to break the news myself, but it seems events have conspired against me. The ‘young man’ at the end of her sentence as telling a sign of danger as the hissing clatter of a rattlesnake.

‘Good. Then you’ll know we need to move right away. Where’s Neill?’ Her husband is a good man but lacks any sense of urgency. The only time I’ve known him to show anything approaching hurry was when he’d had diarrhoea a few years back.

‘He’s upstairs getting dressed. He’ll be a minute.’

I know his idea of a minute, so I go to the foot of the stairs and look upwards. There’s no sound of movement. ‘Neill. Get down here at once. This is serious.’

Perhaps my shout will do more good than any of Mother’s nagging. Over the years he’s shown an impressive immunity to her exhortations for rapidity.

Mother has followed me. There’s a fire in her eyes which threatens to become an uncontrollable forest blaze.

‘Do you really think so little of us that you’re happy to risk all of our lives by continuing with this ridiculous charade?’ The heat of her anger is counterbalanced by the arctic intensity of her tone. ‘It’s bad enough you running around playing detective but what about the rest of us?’

I don’t give her an answer. There isn’t one that can explain how important this is to me without further angering her. As this isn’t a good time to inform her of my deputation, I give Neill another hurrying shout.

‘Tell me, Jacob. Do you think it’s any kind of coincidence that the day after you’re lauded in the local paper as the man to identify a serial killer’s pattern, your sister finds a body and puts you and your family into the killer’s sights?’

It was my first thought after realising I had to make sure Mother and Sharon were safe. It’s been my only thought ever since.

The macho part of me welcomes the thought of coming face to face with the killer, but the more realistic side of my nature tells me it’s a fight I will probably lose.

Whoever this person is, he’s organised, resourceful and knows lots of different ways to kill.

Mother interprets my silence as contrition and hammers her point home with a series of demeaning attacks on my sanity, my failings as a son and somehow ends up back on the tired old subject of grandchildren.

Neill’s footsteps as he comes downstairs act as a welcome interruption. His lined face shows puzzlement at the disturbance and raised voices.

‘C’mon. I need to get you to the police station as soon as possible. That way the police can keep you safe.’

Hearing the words come out of my mouth I realise what I’ve just said and the subtext behind it. Mother and Sharon will be kept safe along with their husbands. I won’t be joining them. My place is continuing the investigation.

I get them bundled out of the door and into my car and drive them to the station. Mother complains all the way about the lack of legroom in the back of a Mustang while Neill concentrates on not commenting about the speed of my driving.

A tightwad by nature, he always drives at the optimum speed to get the best mileage possible. To be crossing town in the high sixties will seem nothing short of reckless to him.

Mother has travelled far enough with me to become unconcerned by my driving. Although she will on occasion, cite an inevitable crash as yet another way I’m preventing her from becoming a grandmother.

70

Entering the station, we find Sharon and her husband Ted talking with Doenig’s sidekick.

When she sees Mother she runs across and wraps her up in a big hug. I get a similar one from her. Ted’s politeness makes him shake my hand despite the accusation on his face.

Mother will be glad of an ally in her campaign against me, although Sharon and Ted’s presence will keep her away from the ever-present subject of grandchildren.

Doenig and the chief emerge from his office. The FBI man looks fresh whereas the chief’s face and body show his exhaustion. His movements are clumsy and he’s dragging his feet.

I take the initiative. ‘What’s the next move, Chief?’

‘You and your family go to the motel and stay there.’ Doenig’s tone brooks no argument. ‘This has to end here. No more deaths.’

‘We thought that yesterday with the Vernal family.’ I’m not prepared to be sequestered away. By dragging Sharon and Mother into this mess, the killer has made it way too personal for me to allow myself to be shunted aside.