‘What – like he trained someone? Like – like an apprentice in murder?’

‘You should have been a mystery writer, Cassie.’

‘Don’t joke, Kate. I don’t like this.’

‘I know, I know. Sorry.’ She turned to the computer and brought up Google. ‘I reckon with what we know we should be able to find this fucker.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘Well, who else knows more than we do about the Gleason case? Vaughan, sure, but he’s long since gone. Weislander, maybe, but he’s worked a hundred or so cases since then and anyway, after finding that tongue in his icebox I doubt that he wants to put his wife at risk. Apparently she really freaked out, and who can blame her?’

‘What about Josh?’

‘Forget it. From now on I’m having nothing to do with him.’

‘But what about the case?’

‘What about it? From what I can tell, he hasn’t come up with any new leads. I don’t know about you, but I think we’re better off doing this on our own.’

‘I thought you said it was too dangerous?’

‘Your plan was suicide, Cassie. Trust me. We don’t want to go down that route. But I’ve got a better idea.’

‘What?’

‘Good old fashioned research.’

Kate tapped in the name Robert Gleason, sandwiched between quotation marks, into the search engine. There were 49,500 results. Cassie heard the disappointment in the silence.

‘What’s wrong?’ she asked.

‘Nothing,’ said Kate, in an unconvincingly bright manner.

‘I believe you,’ said Cassie, sarcastically. ‘Come clean.’

‘Just than there are nearly 50,000 hits. Rather a lot, but –‘

‘But, what?’

‘But look, lots of them are just about the case. About Gleason. I can scan through them quickly. And –‘

‘So you think that the man we’re looking for has taken Gleason’s name?’

Kate’s ice blue eyes widened. She blinked in quick succession.

‘Oh my God, I hadn’t thought of that.’

‘What?’

‘I was working from the theory that the murderer might have posted something on one of the serial killer websites. You know, some kind of tribute or whatever. Like Gleason was his hero, his god. I never thought about it so literally.’

‘Well, sorry –‘

‘No, you’re a genius, Cassie. It may not lead to anything, but it’s worth a try. If we work from the theory that the person who is behind all of this worshipped Gleason so much that he wanted to erase his old identity and become him then –‘

‘Then all we have to do is find a man who –‘

‘Who has changed his name to Robert Gleason.’

She scanned down the list of results, past the straightforward reports on the Gleason case, noting down the details of men who held the same name – the chairman of the Pennsylvanian Republican Party, the author of Icebound in the Siberian Artic, a book editor, and an actor (credits included the film Dead Poet’s Society). Nope. They were too much in the public eye. Too conspicuous. Too well-balanced. And she guessed they all had been born with the name. What she was looking for was a man who existed way off the radar. Someone who slithered under the surface of society. Someone almost invisible. It would be hard to find them – no doubt they had done everything in their power to avoid being noticed – but she would do it. She had never been more certain about anything in her life.

Patiently, Cassie stood by her side, seeing nothing but sensing pretty much everything.

‘Hey, why don’t you take a swim in the pool or a nap?’ said Kate.

‘No way. I’m fascinated to see what you come up with.’

‘But it won’t be quick. It’ll be really boring, I warn you.’

‘I can do boring. Boring is good after the last couple of weeks.’

She double-clicked on the white pages site that listed the telephone numbers of the 250 or so Robert Gleasons in America – there were 26 in New York state, 19 in California, 17 in Massachusetts, and 16 in both Florida and Michigan. Cassie listened to the sound of pencil on paper as Kate took down names and numbers.

‘What are you writing? Got your list of suspects already?’

‘No, it’s just a list of Robert Gleasons in all the different states. California ranks third as having the most, after Massachusetts and, at the top of the list, New York.’

‘So what are you going to do? Ring each one up and ask if they happen to be a sick fucker who gets kicks out of sending people dead babies and the tops of fingers?’

‘Well – it’s an idea.’

‘Now who’s the crazy one?’

‘The problem is there’s nothing on public record web sites to show me details of people who have changed their names. For that, I need access to governmental records. And to get that –‘

‘You need some inside help.’ Cassie paused. ‘Like Josh?

‘No. Like – like … ‘ Kate ran through her list of old contacts in her head. She could call on the help of Cynthia Ross, but she she’d rather – what was that expression of her father’s? – cut her own arm off than ask a favour from that bitch.

‘God – I’ve been so stupid,’ said Cassie, the words tripping off her tongue. ‘Gloria – my friend Gloria. She’ll help. I’m sure of it. She works in the social security office downtown. She could run a check for us.’

‘Can you trust her?’

‘Of course. She helped me through everything. I don’t think I would have survived what Gleason did to me without her.’

‘Well, what are you waiting for. Give her a call and get her over here.’

Cassie’s face began to darken, her sightless eyes looked worried.

‘What? What’s wrong?’

‘I’m just worried for her, that’s all. I mean, look at what’s happened to us. Obviously this man bears grudges.’

‘Yeah, you’re right.’ Kate walked towards her and placed a hand on her friend’s shoulder. She had to convince her that this was their best – their seemingly only - option. ‘But what’s going to happen if this fucker isn’t caught? He’s going to carry on not only screwing up our lives, but those of countless others. If he’s anything like the other Gleason then he poses a real and present threat. And he’s not going stop now. If anything it’s going to get worse – for you, for me – all of us.’