“We’re not local police. We’re from Leesworth—so we wouldn’t necessarily have known about your friend being missing. Do you remember when you went to the police?”

“‘Yes, I do. It was a few weeks ago; the tenth of October to be precise—before the half-term break. But she wasn’t missing then, not in the real sense. I was trying to prevent that. I knew she’d gone, but I still believed she was okay. It was only when she suddenly stopped texting me that I got really worried. Then I knew something was definitely wrong. All along I thought this man she’d taken up with was a bad lot. He was a fast worker—too fast for comfort if you ask me. Goodness knows what he promised Maddy, but it did the trick. I could see the whole thing for what it was, but Maddy couldn’t—she just thought I was jealous.”

“So where did you think she was?”

“With him: Jack. The precious Jack who was going to solve all her problems and provide her with a life of luxury. Well that’s how he must have sold it to her. The silly girl was completely taken in. I tried to talk some sense into her, but in the end she got all shirty and left. Here’s her last number.” She handed Ruth the papers she’d taken from her bag. Those are the last text messages we exchanged. I printed them out with the dates.”

Calladine was impressed. It would have been so easy to delete the texts and forget all about it. “Do you know where this Jack lives, or what he looks like?”

“No. I never actually met him, and Maddy would never answer my questions. She just said he lived somewhere posh and wonderful and had a lot of money. One day she got dressed up and went to meet him for lunch—and I never saw her again. I got the texts telling me what a great time she was having—then nothing.”

“This is good work.” Ruth scanned through the papers. “Well done.”

The young woman sat down beside them. “There is more. Since Maddy’s disappearance I’ve been digging around. I don’t want you to think I’m obsessed or anything, but I don’t think what happened to Maddy was an isolated case. I suspect that there have been others. I’ve made a list.”

“A list?”

“Yes, Inspector. A list of female students who’ve simply disappeared for no good reason during the last twelve months.” Her tone suggested she wasn’t impressed by the amused look on his face. “And don’t think I’ve not asked about them, because I have, and got nowhere. I just don’t have the resources or access to them.

But I don’t harbour these suspicions lightly, and nor should you.”

“You’re doing a criminology degree. Do you want to be a detective?”

“No, I want to be a profiler. And before you ask, this is not down to my imagination. Just because I spend my time studying criminals doesn’t mean I see evil all around me. This is real, Inspector, take my word for it.”

“So there have been a few disappearances? But isn’t that the way with students at university? They start a course and soon realise it’s too much like hard work, not to mention the cost.”

“Not these students. Most of them were from the USA, and being sponsored. Maddy had a scholarship from a large corporation in New York. Not a fortune, but enough to get by on. Once she’d qualified they would have employed her, and it was the same with the others. I compiled the list because no one would listen to me.

And now Maddy’s dead, and I don’t think she was the first.” She bit her lip thoughtfully.

“What do you think is wrong, Alice? You’ve obviously put work into this and developed a theory.”

“I know what you’re thinking; you’ve hinted as much. You think I’m a criminology student with an overactive imagination. But you’re wrong.” She spoke with passion. “I think Maddy was taken by a killer—a serial killer.” This was said with more than a pinch of bravado. “I think female students here—particularly the ones from the USA—are being targeted. Look. I’ve highlighted the American students. All were female, and all left without going through any of the formalities or saying goodbye to their friends. Now why would they do that?”

Could she be right? Calladine hoped not. His eyes moved down the list. He was half hoping the name Vida might be there—but it wasn’t.

“All these highlighted are American, and no longer here?”

“That’s right.”

“Thank you, Alice. You can rest assured we will follow this up.

I’m not saying you’re right—not yet.” Calladine reached into his pocket for one of his cards. “Ring me with anything else you discover—anything, even if you think it isn’t relevant.”

Alice nodded. She was pleased with herself for speaking out like this. “I still have some of Maddy’s stuff—most importantly, her laptop. You should take it with you. I can’t get into it—it’s password protected.”

“We have someone back at the station who’ll deal with that. It could prove very useful—thanks again.”

The ‘someone’ he had in mind was Imogen. Listening to Alice, and becoming aware of the extent of the research she’d done—he could see that these two young women had a lot in common.

“I’ve got a lecture very soon, so I’ll have to go. If one of you comes with me, I’ll give you Maddy’s things.”

“You go, Ruth. I want to have another word with Joanna Johnson before we leave.”

Calladine already suspected their man had murdered more than one woman, so why not look at Alice’s list a little closer? Their man had a particular method—the thing with the teeth, the mouth and the tag in the ear. It was possible that he had a favourite hunting ground too, so Alice Bolshaw just might be right. Manchester’s colleges were the perfect place to find young women who were alone for the first time in a strange city—impressionable young women, with no family close by.

Calladine went back to Mrs Johnson’s office and found her deep in conversation with a young man. He tapped on the half-open door.

“Inspector!” she exclaimed. “Come in—we’re finished here.”

“Can I use your photocopier?” As he made a copy of Alice’s list, he said, “I want to know the addresses and next of kin of all these students. Please. Once you’ve compiled it, email it to me here. Time is of the essence, so I’d appreciate it if you made this a priority.

This is a murder enquiry.”

Chapter 11

“Imogen, see what you can do with this.” Calladine handed her the laptop. “It belonged to the first dead girl—Vida 5, or to give her her proper name, Madison Benneti. Her friend tells me it’s password protected so she can’t get into it. I’m particularly interested in the social networking sites she used—emails, any photos you find—that sort of thing.”

“Piece of cake.”

If anyone could get anything from the laptop, then it was Imogen. It was a skill she excelled at, and it had made her invaluable to the team. Calladine disappeared into his office and sat down at his desk. He needed to think. He needed to sift the information they had so far. But he particularly needed to know the meaning behind that name—Vida.

He logged onto the system and did an internet search.

Apparently Vida was a female name and more common in the USA.

Now why didn’t that surprise him? And where did it lead him? A nutter so obsessed with a woman called Vida that he’d taken to murdering other women and tagging them with her name. But why?

Why call them all by her name, and what had happened to the original Vida? He sifted through the file and took out a photograph of Madison Benneti. She’d been young, slim, with long fair hair and, of course, American. Was he seeking out women who looked like Vida?

“Sir! I’ve just had a call from Julian. He’s got a name for the second one—Vida 3.”

“How come?”

“Her DNA was on record,” Ruth told him. “She was arrested in a drugs bust two years ago at a student house in Manchester.”

“Who is she?”

“Serena Hall—and guess what?”