Besides, the thought of being cloistered away with Mother when she’s got full justification to rail on me isn’t an attractive one. She’ll rattle on for hour after hour, attacking me from every possible angle. As a rule I would be able to mount a defence against her, but on this occasion I’m guilty as charged.

It won’t be long before the others side with her. Even in silence, their faces will show what they think of me. There’s no way I want to be in that position. Not when I can be stopping a killer.

‘I’m not going to the motel. I’m staying on the case.’

‘No you’re not.’ The chief’s voice is as tired as the rest of him. ‘That’s how we lost Angus Oberton.’

‘If you stay on the case you’ll be a target. I’m not having one of my officers at risk.’

I hand the chief my badge. ‘Problem solved. I’m a civilian now.’

‘Which means I can arrest you if I want to.’

‘Enough.’ Doenig keeps his voice low, but there’s a quality to it which cuts through our bickering. He looks at me. ‘If you don’t go to the motel, you’ll become a target. But I’m not sure the killer will take you on. I think he’ll be expecting you to be protected or guarded. And he’ll be right.’

Which means that if the killer doesn’t come after me, his pattern will have to be broken as I only have four direct relatives in the US and they’re all under police guard.

Only, the killer isn’t going to move onto someone else. I don’t for one minute believe he dumped the latest body outside Sharon’s home by chance.

It is a deliberate act, designed to hamper the investigation. With me either distracted or stationed in the motel, I’ll be less effective.

Yet looking at it from his point of view, there is the danger he won’t be able to get to me. I don’t think he is ready to stop, so his involving of my family is the laying down of a challenge.

He’s asking if I’m man enough to face him. He wants to take me on. The realisation of what he wants firms my resolve.

I take a deep breath and make a suggestion which might get me killed. ‘He’s coming after me, so use me to catch him.’

The chief is the first to speak. ‘No way. Forget it, Boulder, there’s no way I’m risking him getting to you.’

‘You’re not the one taking the risk. I’m in charge.’ Doenig looks at me with respect in his eyes. ‘Are you sure about this?’

I swallow. ‘Can you think of any other way we’ll catch him?’

Neither of them reply, which is all the answer any of us needs.

The chief tosses the badge back to me and pulls a gun out of his drawer. ‘Do you know how to use this?’

‘No, but I’ve got one I do know how to use.’ I’m stretching the truth a bit, but I’m trying to reassure him.

‘Where is it?’

‘In the trunk of my car.’

‘Go get it. Keep it with you at all times.’ He cocks his head to one side. ‘Round up a couple of patrolmen and take your folks to the motel. When you’ve done that come back here and make sure you have a patrolman with you at all times.’

I sense he is getting rid of me on purpose, so I leave him and Doenig to it.

After getting the gun from the trunk of my car and stuffing it into my waistband, I go to join my family.

There are two patrolmen watching over them, so I approach the nearest. ‘Chief says they’re to go to the motel. I’ll take the guys in my car, you take my mother and sister.’

I plan to inform Neill and Ted what I’m doing on the drive over and leave them to break the news. It’s a cop-out but I’ve enough self-critical thoughts of my own, without Mother dripping scornful vitriol in my ear.

71

When I arrive at the motel I see two burly workers and a cop stationed at the entrance. Another civilian and a cop are standing by the fire exit. They look bored but their heads are in constant motion as they sweep the area for possible aggressors.

The patrolmen gain us entry and a couple of rooms are secured for my folks. They look stunned but there’s little I can do to change things. It’s about to get worse for Mother and Sharon when their husbands repeat the news I’ve given them.

As they are escorted down the hall, I pull my cell out and read the message I’ve just got.

It’s a picture of a woman. Her face has a deathly pallor and the dewdrops coating her cheeks look like tears.

A second message comes in, followed by a third.

The second is from the chief asking me to show the picture to Norm Sortwell to see if it’s his cousin.

I check the last message and sigh when I see who it’s from.

YOU ARE AN IDIOT JACOB BOULDER. WORRYING ABOUT YOU WILL PUT ME IN AN EARLY GRAVE. I EXPECT TO HEAR FROM YOU EVERY TWO HOURS.

Stuffing the cell back into my pocket, I go to the receptionist and ask which room Norm is in.

As I make my way along the corridor, I’m rehearsing what to say, the tone to use and guessing what his reaction may be. This is new ground for me and I curse the chief for making me walk it.

How Norm will react depends on the closeness of their relationship. It was tough to gain any insights last night. He’d been questioned to the point of distraction by the feds, then brought out here with his parents.

I knock on the right door and hear a TV being turned down. Norm’s face appears as the door opens. He looks as if he’s had less sleep than me.

Seeing him in proper light for the first time I notice how gaunt and drawn his face is, that his belt shows wear on each of the holes. He must have lost weight recently, although his bare arms show tight knots of muscle.

‘Morning.’ I drop the good from the greeting on purpose. If we’re right about the body, there isn’t going to be anything good about today. ‘I’m sorry to trouble you, but there was a body found a couple of hours ago. It matches the description you gave us for Josie.’

His hand flies to his mouth and he takes a few steps backwards until his legs collide with the bed. As he sits, springs creak. He raises his eyes to my face. ‘Are you sure it’s her?’

‘I’m afraid not. We’ll need someone to make a formal identification.’ I’m winging it, but to my ears the words sound like something a cop would say.

I pull my cell out. ‘I have a picture of the victim on here. Do you think you could take a look and see if it’s Josie?’

Norm doesn’t speak, but his arm extends in my direction. Handing over the cell, I watch to see his reaction.

It’s a muted one. He looks at the image for a few seconds then passes the cell back. ‘It’s Josie. She looks so peaceful.’ His voice is a whisper.

‘Thank you.’

‘How did she die? Will there need to be an autopsy?’

‘We’re not sure yet, but there will be an autopsy and it should tell us how she died.’ I’d like to tell him she didn’t suffer, but without knowing the details, I’m reluctant to say anything in case I’m wrong.

‘Will we be able to go home now?’

I’m not sure if I have the authority to make this decision, but I make it anyway.

‘I don’t see why not.’

I leave him with his thoughts and a promise someone will bring them more news as soon as we have it.

Before climbing into my car, I call Alfonse and point him at Roger Ingerson. I want to know anything and everything he can dig up about the first victim, as I’m sure that’s where the key to the killer’s identity will lie.

72

Norm lies on his bed and savours the irony. His next victim asking him to identify the previous one is delicious. It’s more than enough to make up for having to spend the night in this crummy motel.

He’d made sure to give Boulder a careful look over when acting shocked about Josie. The man was in good shape, his movements fluid despite an obvious discomfort at the news he was delivering.