Another quick look exchange. They would have to check the nine-one-one records for bogus calls once again, but Hunter and Garcia were both sure that the killer had used the same tactics as before.

Hunter decided to bring the questioning a little closer to their first victim.

‘Do you know if your wife knew someone by the name of Karen Ward?’ he asked.

Mr. J’s eyes narrowed for a beat, while he repeated the name to himself a couple of times.

Hunter observed him attentively.

‘The name doesn’t really ring any bells,’ he replied. ‘But Cassandra knew a lot of people who I never met. People from her gym. People from the charity shops she volunteered at. People from the support groups she attended. Her circle of friends was much bigger than mine.’ He fixed Hunter down with a new serious stare. ‘Why? Who is she?’

‘We don’t know yet,’ Hunter lied. ‘Her name was on a card we found outside on the street.’

‘Outside on the street like what?’ Mr. J asked, buying it. ‘On my front yard? On the street in front of the house? Where?’

Hunter had to think fast. ‘That’s the reason I asked. It was found on the street a little further up the road. It’s probably nothing, but we’ll check with every house on the street anyway.’

Mr. J wasn’t able to tell if that was a lie or not, but he immediately committed the name to memory. He would have to ask Brian Caldron to check on who she was.

Hunter quickly moved the subject away from Karen Ward. ‘You mentioned your wife and support groups?’

‘Cassandra lost her mother to an undiagnosed heart condition several years ago,’ Mr. J explained. ‘Support groups helped her a lot during that time, but she’s the kind of person who likes helping others too.’ He paused, realizing his mistake. His pain was almost palpable. ‘Was the kind of person who liked helping others,’ he corrected himself. ‘So every now and again she would attend support-group sessions for people who had lost loved ones to illnesses. Try to help them in some way. That’s the kind of person she was.’

‘Do you have any other details on these support groups?’ Hunter asked. ‘Names? Locations where they met? Anything?’

‘No. Not really. But I can call a few of her friends and try to find out.’

‘That would be very much appreciated,’ Hunter said, though he would get a team on to it straight away as well.

‘Did your wife used any type of social media network sites?’ Garcia asked.

‘Doesn’t everyone nowadays?’

‘Yes, that’s very true,’ Garcia accepted it. ‘Did she ever mention anything to you about anyone trolling her, or sending her inappropriate messages, or anything?’

Mr. J brought a hand to his face and used his thumb and index finger to rub his exhausted eyes.

‘No,’ he said. ‘Never. But she mainly used it just to keep in touch with some old friends from Santa Ana. Nothing like what most kids do nowadays, like my son, spending most of his time online.’

‘How about you, Mr. Jenkinson,’ Garcia asked. ‘Do you have a social media page?’

‘I do, yes. My company also has a business page.’

Hunter knew that his next question would sound a little strange. ‘The question about your wedding date, Mr. Jenkinson . . .’

Mr. J locked eyes with Hunter and in them Hunter saw devastating pain.

‘Can you remember if you’ve been asked that same question recently, maybe in the past year? Maybe while out with friends, at a dinner party, by anyone you have worked with, while having a few drinks at a bar . . . anywhere?’

Mr. J did find the detective’s question somewhat strange.

‘No, I don’t recall ever being asked anything about my wedding date in . . .’ He shook his head. ‘I don’t even know how long.’

‘Do you remember who it was? The person who asked you about it?’

Mr. J’s look became distant for a moment, before switching to sadness. ‘Cassandra. That’s how she used to remind me of it because I used to forget it every year. She’d wait until late at night, just before we went to bed, and then she’d say something subtle like, “What’s the date today, do you know?” And that was when I knew that I had screwed up big time and it was way too late to dig up an excuse. It didn’t use to be like that, you know?’ he said, as if he saw the need to defend himself before both detectives. The look in his eyes became even sadder, yearning for a time long gone. ‘I used to remember it every year, buy her gifts, flowers, take her to dinner . . . I don’t really know what happened. I don’t really know how or why I let all that go, but even she gave up on reminding me a few years back. I guess she thought that there was no point in doing it anymore.’

Hunter remained silent, waiting for Mr. J to push the memory all the way to the back of his mind.

‘Can you think of anyone who for whatever reason would want to harm your wife?’ he asked at last.

Mr. J sat back in his chair and rested his elbows on the chair’s arms. His stare moved to the picture frame on his desk.

‘Cassandra was the most gentle of souls,’ he replied, his voice almost strangled by the knot in his throat. ‘And I’m not just saying that because she was my wife. Ask anyone who knew her. She was a caring and loving person. Polite to everyone. Humble. Understanding. Generous. Helpful. I don’t think that she has ever upset anyone in her life.’

‘Can you think of anyone who could possibly want to harm your wife to . . . maybe get back at you?’

Mr. J’s acting was flawless, adding a perfect layer of shock to his words and expressions.

‘Get back at me? For what? I’m a simple business consultant, Detective? I have no debts. I don’t gamble. I have no grudges against anyone, and as far as I’m aware of, no one has any grudges against me. We were a simple family, living a simple life.’

‘So you’ve never received any sort of threats of any nature?’ Hunter asked.

‘Threats?’ Another award-winning surprised facial expression.

‘Yes. Either via emails, phone calls, text messages, letters, whatever.’

‘No. Never.’

‘How about your wife? Did she ever mention anything about being threatened? Anything about . . . letters or phone calls she’d received? Did she ever mention anything about a possible stalker?’

Once again, Hunter’s question did truly surprise Mr. J, and this time there was no faking of his reaction.

‘A stalker?’ His mouth remained half open, while his eyes jumped from one detective to the other.

‘Did she ever tell you about any letters she’d received from someone who could possibly be pestering her?’

‘Letters from a stalker? No. Never. What are you talking about, Detective?’

Hunter looked at Garcia, who quietly stood up and made his way towards the door.

Mr. J’s sincerely confused gaze followed his every step until he exited the room, before shooting back to Hunter.

‘OK, what is going on, Detective?’

‘Are you sure you can’t recall your wife mentioning anything about being harassed by someone?’ Hunter insisted. ‘About receiving any sort of strange notes?’

‘Harassed? Strange notes? No. Never.’ Mr. J was adamant. ‘I have no idea of what you’re talking about, Detective.’

‘Do you think she would’ve?’

‘Would’ve what?’

‘Mentioned it to you.’

Back came the head-creasing lift of the eyebrows. ‘That she thought that someone was stalking her? That she had received some sort of threatening note, or message, or whatever?’

‘Yes. Do you think that she would’ve mentioned it to you?’

‘Yes, she would definitely have mentioned it to me,’ Mr. J replied with the utmost confidence. ‘Why wouldn’t she?’

At that exact moment, Garcia re-entered the room.