Him and me both, Kim thought.

‘It’s okay,’ she said. His skin was cool and soft. He slipped his large hand inside her much smaller one and still didn’t look at her.

A single tear had rolled down his cheek. Kim looked to David for guidance. He shrugged, clearly unsure of this changed behaviour.

Dougie’s grip was firm as he tugged at her hand. Kim detected no malice or danger, just a gentle sadness.

She spoke quietly. ‘Do you want me to come with you, Dougie?’

He nodded while still looking up and to the left.

Kim stood and let him guide her through the kitchen and hallway. His grip on her hand was firm but not threatening. David frowned but followed.

‘Dougie, what are you doing?’ David asked, as the three of them mounted the stairs to the first floor.

He didn’t answer but continued to move forward purposefully. He turned the door handle to his room and pushed the door open.

‘Dougie, you know that ladies aren’t allowed into the rooms.’

Dougie loosed her hand as she stepped inside. His room was similar to that of a twelve-year-old. Posters of fast cars were pinned to the wall at the exact same height around the room. His bed was a three-quarter, covered with a racing car quilt. One shelf was full of Top Gear DVDs. A framed photo of one of the presenters sat on his bedside cabinet. Kim turned to David who shrugged.

‘He loves Jeremy Clarkson, what can I say?’

The shelf beneath the DVDs housed a collection of exercise books. Some were inexpensive flimsy books found in stationery stores and others were ring binders with colourful patterns on the front.

‘He loves writing books. The cheap ones are from me and the others are presents. He doesn’t use them, he just likes having them.’

Dougie stamped his foot twice at David’s words, obviously displeased. Kim saw a pencil tucked behind the photo frame.

‘Are you sure he doesn’t use them?’

David looked as puzzled as she felt. She turned to the gangly male beside her. ‘Dougie, is there something you’d like to show me?’

Dougie counted along the exercise books and took out the third from the left. He didn’t look at the pages but counted to the seventh page and opened it, then passed it to her.

The writing inside was painfully small. Her eyesight was 20/20 but she had to squint to make out some of the words. It was written in script form with a name and then speech marks.

She looked to the book and back up at Dougie. Goosebumps rose from her skin.

‘Dougie, do you have eidetic memory?’

Dougie offered no response.

David was as confused as she. ‘What the …’

She took another look.

‘David, you thought Dougie was lovesick. You thought he was following Alex around because he liked her, but he was recording her every word.’ She tapped her head. ‘In here.’

She leafed through the book. The pages were filled with writing.

She looked back to him, open-mouthed. ‘This incredible, gifted young man knew what she was before anyone else.’

Kim stepped forward and touched his cheek, gently. He did not pull away

Relief and gratitude flooded her body. ‘Thank you for showing me your work.’

Kim read a paragraph in the book, feeling her anger rise as she did.

IT’S BECAUSE YOU ARE A WASTE OF MY TIME. YOU ARE SO DAMAGED THAT YOU WILL NEVER LEAD A REMOTELY NORMAL LIFE. THERE IS NO HOPE FOR YOU. THE NIGHTMARES WILL NEVER GO AWAY AND EVERY BALDING MIDDLE AGED MALE WILL BE YOUR UNCLE. YOU WILL NEVER BE FREE FROM HIM OR WHAT HE DID TO YOU. NO ONE WILL EVER LOVE YOU BECAUSE YOU ARE CONTAMINATED AND THE TORMENT YOU GO THROUGH WILL BE WITH YOU FOREVER

She lifted her eyes from the page. ‘David, who the hell is Shane?’

FIFTY-NINE

The property was two large houses converted to four one-bedroom flats. Nameplates and a bell were mounted in the doorway.

‘Come on, Charlie,’ Dawson moaned. ‘It’s bloody cold out here.’

‘Keep yer knickers on, Kev,’ Stacey said.

She pressed one of the other buttons. ‘Hello, is that Mrs Preece? Could you buzz to open the door. It’s the police and we’re here …’

Stacey stopped talking when the line cut off. She waited for the buzz of the lock being released. It didn’t sound.

Dawson nudged her out of the way.

He pressed another button. ‘Mr Hawkins, I have a delivery from Amazon.’

The buzzer sounded.

Stacey followed him in. ‘How the hell …’

‘Everybody orders stuff from Amazon.’

He turned left and knocked on the door. No answer. Dawson knocked again.

‘This guy is starting to seriously piss me off now. He won’t like the interview if he makes me angry.’

‘What yer gonna do, waterboard him?’

Dawson chuckled. ‘Stace, that was almost funny.’

‘I don’t like this, Kev,’ she said, leaning down. She looked through the letter box. The jacket and shoes Cook had been wearing a couple of nights before were within her view in the hallway.

‘He’s in there but it’s silent. It don’t feel right.’

They knocked together and shouted.

‘For once, Stace, I agree with you. I think we need to get in.’

‘Should we call the fire service?’ Stacey asked.

‘No, we’ll use the equipment instead.’

Dawson raised the extinguisher and aimed it towards the lock.

‘Have you got my package?’ said an elderly voice from the stairs.

‘Postman said he’d got the wrong address,’ Dawson shouted back.

He hit the door hard with the extinguisher. It burst open on impact. Stacey couldn’t help but be impressed.

‘Hey, what are you doing down there?’

‘We’re the police,’ Stacey shouted back as Dawson called for Charlie.

‘Do you have my package?’

‘No, we’re the police,’ Stacey repeated but louder, following Dawson inside.

‘Awww … shit,’ Dawson said, standing in the doorway.

Stacey came to rest beside him. Her mind echoed his words verbatim.

The grossly overweight man lay sprawled on the bed, face down. He wore light blue boxers and a covering of hair. His right leg dangled off the side of the bed. Aspirin packets sat next to a glass of water.

Stacey sprang into action. She touched the side of his neck. She didn’t remove her fingers until she was sure.

‘Call an ambulance, Kev. He’s still alive. Tell them unconscious but breathing.’

Dawson took out his phone and began to call it through. Stacey grabbed the boxes and started to count.

Dawson was reciting the address and the state of the patient.

‘I make it about twenty-five tablets,’ she said.

Dawson repeated the dose to the dispatcher before ending the call.

They stood and looked at each other.

‘Shouldn’t we be doing something?’ Stacey asked.

Dawson looked around. ‘You could make him a cuppa but I don’t think he’ll drink it.’

Stacey offered him a filthy look.

He opened his arms. ‘What do you want me to say? Can’t give him CPR, thank God. He’s still breathing.’

‘Jesus, Kev, knock it off. Errr … insensitive.’

She moved towards the bed and leaned in close to his ear. ‘Charlie, I’m Detective Constable Wood and …’

‘Bloody hell, Stace, great thing to tell a man already close to death.’

Stacey turned and glared at him as Dawson stepped past her to squeeze the man’s bare shoulder. ‘Alright, Charlie. It’s Kev. Everything’s gonna be okay. Help is on the way. They’ll be here any minute but we’re not going to leave until they’re here.’

Yeah, that was better, Stacey admitted, but only to herself.

‘A cry for help?’ she asked Dawson.

Dawson shook his head and stepped away, lowering his voice.

‘Nah, it’s a serious attempt. He meant to die. No bloke wants to be found like that and then live to tell the tale.’