She stopped dead. For a moment she had forgotten. Just for a moment.

‘Beth,’ she breathed.

‘Who else?’

Nicola headed to the kitchen. ‘Sorry if I woke you,’ she said, removing the lasagne from the microwave. She took out two plates and halved the meal.

She placed one plate at her own seat and the other opposite.

‘I ay hungry,’ Beth said.

Nicola tried not to cringe at Beth's broad Black Country dialect. It was a habit she herself had worked hard to overcome. As children they had both spoken that way but Beth had made no effort to change.

‘Have you eaten today?’ Nicola asked and then silently reprimanded herself. Would she ever grow out of the habit of being the older twin? Even if it was only by a matter of minutes.

‘Yer don't want me here, do yer?’

Nicola stared down into the pasta. Suddenly her appetite was gone. The directness of her sister’s question did not surprise her and it was futile to lie. Beth knew her almost as well as she knew herself.

‘It’s not that I don’t want you here, it’s just that it’s been so long.’

‘And whose fault's that, dear sister?’

Nicola swallowed and took her plate to the sink. She dared not look. She could not face the accusation and hurt.

‘Do you have plans for tomorrow?’ she asked, steering their conversation to something less explosive.

‘Of course. Will yo be working again tomorrow night?’

Nicola said nothing. It was obvious that Beth disapproved of her lifestyle. ‘Why do yer degrade yerself like that?’

‘I enjoy what I do,’ Nicola defended. She hated that her voice had risen an octave.

‘But yer degree in Sociology. It’s a bloody waste.’

‘At least I have a degree,’ Nicola shot back and instantly regretted it. The silence between them was charged.

‘Well, yo took that dream away from me, didn't yer?’

Nicola knew that Beth blamed her for their estrangement but she could never bring herself to ask why.

Nicola stared into the sink, clutching the unit. ‘Why did you come back?’

Beth sighed heavily. ‘Where else would I go?’

Nicola silently nodded and the air between them calmed.

‘It’s all gonna start back up again, ain't it?’ Beth asked quietly.

Nicola heard the vulnerability in her sister’s voice and it made her heart ache. Some bonds could not be broken.

The dirty plate blurred before her eyes and the years without her sister bore down on her.

‘And how will yer protect me this time, big sis?’

Nicola wiped at her eyes and turned, reaching out to hold her twin but the bedroom door had already closed.

Nicola emptied the contents of the second plate. She spoke quietly towards the spare bedroom. ‘Beth, for whatever reason you hate me, I’m sorry. So very, very sorry.’

Ten

At seven a.m. Kim stood before the headstone and pulled the leather jacket tightly around herself. On top of the Rowley hill dominated by Powke Lane cemetery the wind howled around her. It was Saturday and she always made time for family on a Saturday, new case or not.

Grave markers still bore the debris of Christmas gifts left by the living guilty; wreaths reduced to skeletal twigs, poinsettias battered into wilted submission by the weather. A layer of frost glistened on top of the Imperial Red stone.

From the moment she’d found the simple wooden cross marking the space she had saved as much as she could from her two jobs and bought the stone. It had been installed two days after her eighteenth birthday.

Kim gazed at the sparse gold lettering, all she’d been able to afford back then; simply a name and two dates. As usual she was struck by the distance between the two years engraved, no more than a blink.

She kissed her fingers and placed them firmly against the cold stone. ‘Good night, sweet Mikey, sleep tight.’

The tears stung her eyes but she fought them back. They were the same words she had spoken right before the last breath had left his fragile, defeated body.

Kim put the memory safely back into the box and donned her helmet. She pushed the Kawasaki Ninja to the exit gate. There was something disrespectful about igniting the roar of the 1400 cc engine within the confines of the cemetery. A metre out and she spurred the machine into action.

At the bottom of the hill she pulled into an industrial estate awash with ‘To Let’ signs; a stark testament to the area’s industrial history and a suitably barren area from which to make the phone call.

Kim took out her phone. This was not a conversation that took place anywhere near Mikey’s grave. She would not allow his final resting place to be contaminated by evil. She had to protect him, even now.

The call was answered on the third ring.

‘Nurse Taylor, please.’

The line went dead for a few seconds before she heard the familiar voice.

‘Hi, Lily, It’s Kim Stone.’

The nurse’s voice was warm. ‘Hi, Kim, it’s lovely to hear from you. I thought you might call today.’

The nurse said the same thing every time and yet it had never changed once. She’d made this call on the twelfth of each month for the last sixteen years.

‘How is she?’

‘She had a quiet Christmas but she seemed to enjoy the choir that visited ...’

‘Any violent episodes?’

‘No, not for a while now. Her medication is stable.’

‘Anything else?’

‘She asked about you again yesterday. Although she has no concept of dates, it’s almost like she knows when you’re about to call.’ The nurse paused. ‘You know, if you ever wanted to come and ...’

‘Thank you for your time, Lily.’

Kim had never visited and never would. Grantley psychiatric clinic had been home to her mother since Kim was six years old and it was where she belonged.

‘I’ll tell her you called.’

Kim thanked her again and hit the ‘end’ button. The nurse treated Kim’s monthly phone calls as a welfare check to see how her mother was doing and Kim had never informed her otherwise.

Only Kim knew that she made the call to ensure that the murdering, evil bitch was still safely behind bars.

Eleven

‘Righty, update folks. Kev, what do we know from Mispers?’

‘Professor Milton has just divorced for the third time. A bit like Simon Cowell, all his exes have nothing but good to say about him. No natural children of his own but step-father to five. No hostility noted.’

‘When did he go missing?’

‘Wednesday was the last time he was seen. His assistant at the college raised the alarm when he didn’t appear on Thursday morning. He hasn’t been in touch with any of his family members, which is apparently very strange.’

‘Anything to suggest he’s done this before?’

Dawson shook his head. ‘To hear the exes talk he’s a reincarnation of Gandhi; mild-mannered and gentle.’ Kev consulted his notes. ‘The latest ex spoke to him on Tuesday afternoon and he was excited that he finally had permission for the dig.’

‘I’ve been looking into that, Guv,’ Stacey offered. ‘The original application made by Professor Milton was two years ago. There've been more than twenty objections to the project; environmental, political, cultural. I ain’t got anything further on that yet.’

‘Keep trying, Stace. Bryant, do we know exactly when our victim spoke to the Professor?’