‘You’re not yourself tonight, girl?’

She considered lying but her boss knew her too well.

‘Just a bit distracted, Lou.’

‘Do you want to work the bar?’

Nicola shook her head, nodded and then sighed. Honestly, she didn’t know what she wanted to do.

He indicated for her to follow him through the door behind the bar. Once in the relative peace of the corridor he stopped walking.

Mary Ellen, an ex-model from San Diego, squeezed between them. Lou waited until she was out of earshot.

‘This got anything to do with your sister?’

Nicola felt her jaw drop. ‘How do you know about Beth?’

He looked up and down the corridor. ‘Look, I wasn’t going to say anything but she was here earlier today.’

Nicola felt her mouth dry up. ‘She was here?’

Lou nodded. ‘Demanded I let you go so you could do something more meaningful with your life.’

‘Oh, God, no,’ Nicola breathed. She could feel the heat climbing up her face. She’d never felt so humiliated in her life.

‘What did you say to her?’

‘I told her you were a big girl and perfectly capable of making your own decisions.’

‘Thanks, Lou. I’m so sorry. Did she say anything else?’

‘Yeah, she called me a few names and accused me of exploiting you. Nothing I haven’t heard before.’ He rolled his eyes.

Nicola smiled. ‘And you said?’

‘I thanked her for her comments and asked if there was anything else I could help her with.’

Nicola laughed out loud. It was a welcome release and an antidote to the tension that had built in her body.

Despite his good humour she was mortified that Beth had brought their family issues to her place of work.

‘Look, Lou. My heart’s not in it tonight so it’s probably best if I get home.’

He nodded his understanding. ‘I tell you what, out of the two of you I’m glad I got you ‘cos your sister is one pissed-off lady.’

‘I know,’ Nicola said quietly, while thinking to herself, you have no idea.

She began walking towards the changing room at the end of the hall.

‘Oh, and Nic ...’

She turned.

‘Watch yourself. I get the feeling that she’s really pissed off at you.’

Nicola sighed heavily and repeated her earlier thought.

You really have no idea.

Thirty-Two

‘Okay, Kev, you first,’ Kim instructed.

She had already briefed them about the crime scene of the previous day and the discovery of the conifer that linked both crimes.

Cerys had been true to her word and the photographs had been received just after six thirty. An aerial view of the site had been taped to the white board.

Dawson stood and traced the line from the location of the first grave to the edge of the map. ‘This is victim number one. Although there’s been no formal identification of sex, we believe from the clothing and the recovery of beads that the body is more likely to be female and that she’s been down there for approximately ten years.

‘The body has now been removed from the site and is at the lab with Keats and Doctor Bate. So far we know for certain she was decapitated.’

‘Gruesome,’ Stacey said.

Dawson made notes on the white board as he talked.

It bothered Kim that the heading was still ‘victim one’. The bones had once formed a person. There had been muscles and skin, perhaps a birthmark. There had been a face with expressions. It was not just bones. This girl had spent enough of her life anonymous and it angered Kim that she still had no name.

Kim recalled clearly her own realisation of just how invisible care kids were. When she was eight years old she had ventured into the linen room for a fresh pillowcase. Her gaze had caught a sheet of paper attached to a clipboard. The front page and the sheets behind were diagrams of each of the seven bedrooms. Each bed was drawn on and numbered; bed one, bed two, bed three with tick boxes below. She had wondered why her name was not listed instead of Bed 19.

Kim quickly realised that it was too much bother to label them according to the girl's name. The occupant changed, but the location of the bed did not.

Kim had perched herself on a wooden stool and leaned on the ironing board to write in every girls’ name next to the bed they occupied.

Two days later a cursory check in the linen room had revealed fresh, clean pages; bed one, bed two, bed three.

Her space, her identity, her one little area of safety so easily erased. It was a lesson that she'd never forgotten.

She refocused her attention on Dawson as he pointed at the board. ‘This is where the second mass has been detected; approximately fifty feet from the first.’

He drew a line to the edge of the map but marked it only with an asterisk. Her whole body reacted to his use of the word mass but she fought it down. As yet, there was no body.

‘Thanks, Kev. Today the archaeological team will conduct a full survey of the site to make sure there are no more.’

‘Do you expect more bodies, Guv?’

Kim shrugged. She really had no idea.

‘Stace, did you manage to look at the tape?’

Stacey rolled her eyes. ‘Yeah, it mighta been used for the original recording of Ben Hur. It’s been taped over hundreds of times. I’ve gor a friend who might be able to clean it up a bit but he's not on our register of approved ...’

‘Send it anyway. From an evidentiary point of view it’s worse than useless, because we can never prove foul play in the death of Mary Andrews, but it might just give us something.’

Stacey nodded and made a note. ‘Nothin’ more on Teresa Wyatt. I’ve gor her phone records and there's no calls in or out that can't be accounted for. Forensically they found nothing at the scene except for a couple of shoe prints, double trodden.’

Their killer had taken the time to retread his initial footsteps to further confuse any identification. As if the damage done by the fire service wasn't bad enough.

‘Both clever and impatient,’ Kim observed.

‘Why impatient?’ Bryant asked.

‘The discovery of Teresa Wyatt’s body was expedited by arson so that she was found within an hour of her death. Tom Curtis would have most likely died had he continued to drink the whisky but that wasn’t good enough for our guy.’

‘He wants us to know he’s angry,’ Bryant mused.

‘He certainly has something to say.’

‘Well, let’s stop him before he says it to anyone else,’ Stacey added, hitting a few keys on the computer. ‘Okay, following on from Kev’s work I can confirm Richard Croft from Crestwood is most definitely the Conservative MP for Bromsgrove.’

‘Bloody hell,’ Kim said. Woody was going to love this.

‘And I've gor an address for both him and the second night watchman.’

The printer kicked into life and Bryant grabbed the single sheet.

‘I also have the most up-to-date record of the girls at Crestwood from a local GP but to be honest I’m getting better info from Facebook of who was there at the end.’

‘Keep on that, Stace, it may prove useful in helping us identify our first victim. Someone may recognise the beads. For us today the focus is on the staff members. There’s nothing to suggest that the ex-occupants are in any danger.

‘Bryant and I have already spoken to William Payne. He has a severely disabled daughter. Loved his job but didn’t see the other staff members all that often. He's recently been the victim of an attempted break-in which, based on the level of security at his home, makes no sense. Kev, pay him an advisory visit when you get back to site.’

Dawson nodded his understanding.