‘You never knew her?’ asked Cassie.

‘No, she died giving birth to me.’

‘And you were brought up by your father?’

‘Yes, and my older brother, Ryan,’ she said, looking down. There was an embarrassed silence. ‘I know on the phone you said I might be able to help with something. You mentioned Mr Vaughan’s name, but he passed away some time ago, didn’t he?’

‘Yes, ten years ago now.’

‘He was a nice man,’ said Roberta. ‘Sometimes I think how differently my life would have turned out if I’d had him for a father, instead of –‘

‘It’s about your father we need to speak to you about,’ said Kate.

‘What do you mean?’

‘Just over three weeks ago I found a baby girl floating in the sea outside my house.’

‘Oh my God.’ Obviously she hadn’t read the piece in the Times.

‘About two weeks ago Cassie was sent a package containing a number of human fingertips.’

Blood seemed to drain from Roberta’s thin lips and her already pale face turned a ghostly white.

‘And then Jordan Weislander – who led the prosecution against your father - found a human tongue in his icebox.’

‘What? Why?’ Her voice was quiet, almost a whisper.

‘That’s what we’re trying to find out. Obviously, the link between Jordan, Cassie and me is – was – your father.’

Panic invaded her eyes. ‘You’re not trying to suggest -?’

‘No, no. It’s not that.’

‘But then who -?’

‘We think it could be someone your father went to prison with. Maybe somebody he helped when he was inside. Or it could be some psychopath who feels some kind of affinity with Gleason. Sees him as some kind of hero figure or whatever.’

‘God forbid.’

‘But we just wondered if there was anything – or anybody – you could think of. Any kind of link or motivation?’

‘No, no. Nothing. As you know I never saw my – him – since the day I left for college.’

‘And there’s nobody from your childhood that could be behind this?’

‘What do you mean?’ Tears started to form in her eyes.

‘I realise this is difficult for you to talk about, Roberta. And I’m sorry. But it really is extremely important.’ Kate took a deep breath. ‘Roberta, I know about the abuse. Bill Vaughan told me. God only knows, it must have been awful for you.’

Roberta nodded her head as tears began to form in her eyes.

‘But was he the only one? Your dad, I mean. We know what he was capable of.’ Kate swept her hand through her silver hair. ‘Do you remember him bringing any of his friends to see you?’

‘No.’

‘Are you sure?’

‘Yes, I’m sure.’

‘I’m sorry to have to ask these questions, Roberta. I really am.’

‘No, it’s okay. Honestly.’ Her face was creased by pain now, as if each of the questions was a stab in her heart.

Cassie stood up and, using her hand to guide her, moved across the room towards Roberta. She reached out her hands and gently placed them on Roberta’s shoulder and neck.

‘Hush,’ said Cassie. ‘It’s all in the past now. He’s gone.’

‘I’m so sorry,’ she said, looking up at Cassie’s blank eyes. ‘I’m sorry for what he did to you.’

‘It’s not your fault,’ said Kate. ‘You shouldn’t blame yourself.’

‘Sometimes I think if only I had stayed at home with him then none of it would have happened.’

‘You can’t think like that,’ said Cassie.

‘Then he wouldn’t have needed to seek out those other girls. All those lives taken. What a waste. If I had stayed with him at least it would only have been one life, my life.’

‘Do you have any surviving relatives?’ asked Kate, in an effort to change the direction of the conversation.

‘An aunt in Oklahoma, my mom’s sister,’ she said. ‘We speak on the phone and send cards, things like that. But apart from that, no, no-one.’

‘If anything occurs to you you’ll let me know, won’t you?’ said Kate, drinking the last of her coffee and standing up.

‘Yes, of course,’ said Roberta, wiping her eyes. ‘I’m sorry not to be of more help to you.’ She stood up from the rocking chair to face Cassie. ‘But it was good to see you. Difficult, but good. At least I know he didn’t ruin your life completely. You’ve survived. That’s wonderful.’

Cassie thought of the nightmares, the blackness that grew inside of her like a mutant child, but she pushed it from her mind.

‘Yes, I’m a survivor,’ she said, and smiled.

She touched Roberta’s face, and felt a wetness on her hand. She ran her fingers down her cheek to her jaw. She remembered the feel of Gleason’s pock-marked skin and the rough contours of his face. Father and daughter shared a similar bone structure, the same square face, high forehead and strong jawline. An irrational fear clawed the back of her neck. Then she felt a sense of pity. Imagine what it must be like, she thought, to look like the mass murderer that was your father. Much better to be one of Gleason’s victims than his daughter. She felt a sting of guilt inside her.

‘Goodbye,’ said Cassie, squeezing Roberta’s hand. As she left she regretted she had not wished her good luck too.

18

There was an air of expectation in the investigation room. Harper had scheduled an urgent meeting to discuss the Gleason case and its poisonous fall-out. He had his own theory – something he had been discussing with Jennifer Curtis - but he wanted everyone present to share the information they had gathered over the last 48 hours. He looked at his team and felt a sense of pride. They were, he knew, the best in the business. But would they be able to work out what the fuck was going on? A wave of anxiety, compounded by an overwhelming tiredness, swept over him. He took another swig of his black coffee and cleared his throat.

‘Okay, Lansing,’ he said. ‘What have you got?’

Lansing stood up and addressed the room.

‘As you know I flew up to San Quentin and spent a day interviewing the governor, staff and some of the inmates.’