At the top of the page she wrote the words THE GLEASON CASE. Then she began to make a chronological list of events, starting with his birth in 1951, his marriage to Mary Evans in 1971 and the birth of their son, Ryan. She carried on, noting the death of Mary in 1974, in the process of giving birth to her daughter, Roberta, the subsequent abuse of Roberta throughout her teenage life and her flight from home in 1992, the same year in which Gleason started his attacks, beginning with Teresa Collins and ending with Cassie Veringer in 1997. Gleason was sentenced in 1998, two years later he committed suicide while on death row and in 2004 Ryan was found dead in a car crash. What a mess. If toxic families did exist then the Gleasons were downright radioactive.

She started to doodle on the paper – great loops that gradually formed themselves into elaborate floral patterns – as she began to lose concentration. She thought of everything that had happened since the Gleason case – the death of her father, Josh, her decision to leave her job, the fertility treatment, the end of her relationship, and now her pregnancy. A baby – her baby – due in seven months. It seemed unreal somehow, more dream than reality.

The thought that there was someone out there who wanted to harm her and her unborn child brought her out of her reverie. An image of that baby girl floating in the sea flashed through her mind. She didn’t have time for daydreaming, for wondering what might have been.

She was going to have to fight to stay alive.

27

‘Hi, Dr Cramer, long time, no see,’ said Dale Hoban, easing himself up from the kitchen chair.

‘You’re a stubborn bastard,’ she said, as she greeted him. ‘You never would call me Kate.’

‘It just doesn’t seem right.’

‘Well, you’ll have to make an effort now. I’m no longer working with the department.’

‘You’re not?’

She guessed he wasn’t much of a newspaper reader. ‘Found it was getting too much and I quit – two years ago now.’ She didn’t mention her overwhelming urge to get pregnant. ‘Too stressful.’

‘You and me both,’ said Dale. ‘But I think you know all about that.’

Kate smiled weakly as she studied Hoban’s sagging features, tired skin and sad, bloodshot eyes. The arrest of Gleason should, by rights, have propelled him out of traffic and into something like homicide or narcotics. He told his bosses that he was happy pulling people over for driving offences and checking the number of passengers in car pool lanes. In truth, he knew he wouldn’t have been able to handle a more demanding position. The arrest of Gleason was his one moment of glory – and also his undoing. He loathed the attention it brought, his name being in the papers and on the news. He started to drink more. His marriage broke down. And finally, he had been caught driving his patrol car under the influence. His bosses offered to set him up with therapy – he’d even tried a couple of sessions – but talking about himself, well, it just didn’t seem dignified. Then, after a few drinks, he’d had a traffic accident – he lost control of his car one afternoon and crashed into a school bus – which proved to be one step too far for his chief. Although Kate had offered herself as a character witness should he need her – she knew all about the stress of the Gleason case - he refused to fight the proceedings. And so, in a way, Gleason had claimed another victim.

‘How are you?’ she asked.

‘Fine. Just fine.’

‘Do you want to tell me about it?’

‘Like I said to Detective Harper I came home from work at eight, made myself some breakfast– ‘ Kate caught the smell of whisky on his breath. ‘ – before going into the bedroom to get some sleep. It was then that I saw the – those things – on the pillow. I rang 911 straightaway and – and that’s about it.’

‘Do you have any idea who could have been behind this? Made any enemies lately?’

‘What, you mean besides my ex-wife?’

‘Dale, you can’t have been that bad a husband.’

‘According to her I was up there with the worst of them.’

‘But seriously – is there anyone who wishes you harm right now?’

‘Can’t think of anyone – apart from the white trash family who live downstairs. I’ve threatened to report them on a number of occasions, and got nothing but abuse back.’

‘Do you think that -?’

‘What?’

‘That it’s related to – to – Gleason.’

‘The guy’s dead.’

‘I know. But perhaps there’s somebody out there who, in a sick kind of way, wants to carry on his work. His “legacy”, if you like.’

‘Jesus. Is that what Harper believes?’

‘Neither of us can think of any other explanation.’

‘What about ex-cons who served time with Gleason?’

‘We thought about that. Tracked down five men who were in San Quentin at the same time as Gleason. As of today, one has been murdered and the other four are in custody. So –‘

‘So they can be ruled out?’

‘Seems like it.’

‘And the man who was murdered? What do we know about him?’

Kate smiled to herself. Even though Hoban was an ex-cop – and an ex-traffic cop at that – he still had the soul of the investigative hero. She explained what had happened to Garrison and outlined Josh’s theory about how the manner in which he had been killed illustrated a different type of murderer.

‘Sounds convincing enough,’ said Hoban. ‘But his death can’t be completely random. It has to be connected in some way.’

‘I agree,’ said Kate. ‘And that’s why I wanted to ask you some questions.’

‘I’d love to help you, Dr Cramer, but I can’t think of anything else to tell you that I haven’t already told Harper.’ He paused and studied her. ‘And anyway, I thought you said you’d resigned from your job.’

‘I have – I did,’ said Kate. ‘It’s just that –‘

Hoban’s bloodshot eyes twinkled with mischief. ‘That you can’t resist making it your business?’

‘I suppose you could say that. Listen, Dale, I know you’ve probably tried to wipe it from your brain – God only knows, I think I probably would have done the same in your situation – but I want you to think back to the time when you arrested Gleason.’

‘To my “moment of glory”, do you mean?’