He took a final look at Jess’s body and thought, ‘We’re going to find him, sweetheart. And when we do, I’m going to make him wish he’d never been born.’

It was only when he saw the way Carmella was staring at him, mouth agape, that he realised he’d spoken his thoughts aloud.

Chapter 13

Day 4 – Patrick

Patrick paced the incident room, the rest of the team gathered nervously around the edges – all except Winkler, who was perched on the edge of a desk, arms folded, wearing his omnipresent smirk.

Patrick had asked Gareth to print a map of the area, on which they’d marked the murder scenes of the teenage girls in red, their homes in green. Jess and Rose lived less than a mile apart but went to different schools – Jess attending the grammar school, Rose the local comprehensive. Patrick paused by the map and drew a circle that encompassed the four points.

‘Two girls, both fifteen, living close to one another. White, middle-class, though Jess’s family appear to be better off than Rose’s – much bigger house, nicer car, et cetera. Rose’s parents are divorced; Jess’s are still together. We know that both girls were massive fans of OnTarget. According to Jess’s mother, she attended the vigil for Rose at Twickenham Stadium.’

This fact made him shiver. He and Carmella had been in the same small crowd as the second victim-fan. He had no recollection of seeing her. But it made him wonder – had the killer been there too?

And had the murderer’s next target – because he had no doubt this was not the end, the killer wasn’t going to stop now – been at the vigil as well?

‘Jessica was at the vigil with her best friend, one Chloe Hedges. Jess told her mum that she was going round to Chloe’s house, but she didn’t turn up. Gareth is going to interview Chloe later.’

Patrick went on to describe the similarities between the two murders: the cuts; the perfume; the fact that their clothes had been taken.

‘Was this one wearing lucky knickers too?’ Winkler asked.

Patrick looked at him with disgust. Trust Winkler to seize on the girls’ underwear. ‘What?’

Winkler shrugged. ‘I noticed on the info sheet about Rose – she was wearing knickers with “LUCKY” written on them, wasn’t she? Thought it was pretty ironic.’

‘Yes. Well, we have a full description of Jess’s clothes on your new sheets, but it appears she was wearing new, black underwear.’

Winkler nodded and made a note.

Patrick moved on. ‘We know from the mothers that both girls were extremely active on the band’s forums and talked about them endlessly on social media. We’ve looked at their Twitter accounts – Rose was tweeting about OnTarget up to a hundred times a day; Jess even more. Jess’s mum says that her daughter lived and breathed the band, that she became obsessed with them from the moment they were put together on that talent show. She got those tattoos last month despite being underage.’

‘Crazy,’ Winkler muttered.

Patrick counted to three, not wanting to lose his temper. But before he could speak, Wendy, the young-looking DC who had transferred from Wolverhampton and had admitted to being a fan of OnTarget, spoke up.

‘Why is it crazy? Ill-advised, yes, but this is what a lot of teenage girls do – they form an intense interest in a band, or a pop star, or an actor. It’s a normal part of growing up. It’s only because of social media and the Internet that it becomes more visible, more . . . amplified.’ Her confidence visibly grew as she went on. ‘Because now they have a channel, a way of broadcasting their love for these boys. When I was a teenager I was a massive Blue fan. But I didn’t go on Twitter to talk about it – I wrote endless declarations of love in my diary.’

‘You probably still do,’ Winkler said.

Patrick was amazed and impressed by Wendy’s outburst, partly because he too understood how it felt to be a huge fan of someone. When he was a teenager he had been . . . well, he hesitated to use the word ‘obsessed’, but he had spent a huge amount of time and energy thinking and talking about his favourite band, The Cure. He spent all his money on their records, collecting rare vinyl and posters, wearing their T-shirts, going to gigs and connecting with like-minded fans who spent many hours sitting around analysing Robert Smith’s lyrics.

‘Thank you—’ he began to say, but Wendy spoke over him.

‘The point I’m trying to make,’ she said, a pink flush creeping across her throat, ‘is that we shouldn’t dismiss or judge these young girls. We mustn’t call them crazy.’

The whole room, including Winkler, was silent in the aftermath of Wendy’s words, everybody following her gaze towards the photos of Rose and Jess that were pinned to the board beside the map.

‘Thank you, Wendy,’ Patrick said, finally, smiling at her. She looked at her feet.

Winkler said, ‘Yeah. Sorry.’

Patrick pointed at the map again, drawing a line with his finger between the two houses. ‘We need to find out every connection between these two, apart from their love of OnTarget. Did they know each other online? Had they met? Mutual friends and acquaintances – they must have some. Is there any connection between their families? Places they both frequented – somewhere the killer might have spotted them. I also want to know about boyfriends. Again, according to their mothers, neither girl had a boyfriend. Mrs Sharp says that, to her knowledge, Rose never had a boyfriend, though of course she might have had one her mum didn’t know about.’

‘Or she could have been gay,’ Carmella said.

Winkler rolled his eyes.

Patrick didn’t think that fitted with Rose’s boy-band obsession but said, ‘Of course we should keep an open mind. Jess’s mum says that her daughter was very popular, that boys were always asking her out, but – and I quote – “Jess was saving herself for Shawn”.’

‘Deluded,’ said Winkler.

‘A bit like you,’ Carmella said. ‘Thinking any woman would be interested in you . . .’

‘As a matter of fact—’ Winkler began.

Patrick cut him off. ‘All right. Let’s focus. Wendy, I want you to find out everything about these girls. And I mean everything.’

‘So are we assuming that my case isn’t connected to the girls now?’ Winkler asked, sounding hopeful. ‘Can I get on with my investigation without you interfering?’

Patrick stared at him. He didn’t want Winkler involved; he didn’t want the Nancy Marr murder tied to this one. Apart from wanting to jettison Winkler, the elderly woman’s murder didn’t fit. It confused things. But they couldn’t dismiss it, not after what Daniel Hamlet had said. And Suzanne wanted them to consider every possibility.

‘No,’ he said. ‘We have to do what the DCI asked, until we find evidence that Mrs Marr’s death isn’t connected to the other two.’

‘It’s a bloody joke.’

Patrick ignored him, biting his tongue again, and turned to the map, drawing a question mark on Nancy Marr’s home, which was also the scene of the crime.

‘I want to go over your case notes with you,’ Patrick said, and Winkler reacted as if Patrick had told him he wanted to have sex with his mother.

‘No fucking way.’

Patrick was aware of everyone else in the room watching them.

‘Let’s talk about this afterwards,’ he said.

Winkler gave him a Medusa-like stare and folded his arms, glowering at Patrick. Less Medusa, more feral cat, Patrick thought.

‘For fuck’s sake,’ Patrick said under his breath. He took a moment to gather himself and turned again to the photos of Rose and Jess, emotionally anchoring himself, reminding himself of what needed to be done and why. He needed to ignore Winkler, not let the little twat get to him – though he was going to get a look at those case notes if it killed him.