‘Or kids.’ Randall joined in.

‘And as for getting married . . .’ Caroline added.

They were already finishing each other’s sentences and, despite the public sentiment being a bit too much for her, Jessica was pleased that her friend seemed happy. She could just do with a lot less of that happiness happening in front of her.

When the giggling had died down and Jessica had poured another glass of wine for each of them, Caroline said to her boyfriend: ‘Did I tell you Jessica works for the police?’

‘Yes. What is that, local?’ he asked.

‘Not too far.’

The conversation fizzled out as Caroline yelped due to Randall tickling her. Jessica went back to half-watching the television. Whatever game show it was they had on seemed to be lasting a ridiculous length of time, the contestants definitely not getting any cleverer.

‘Are you single?’ Randall asked Jessica during an advert break.

‘Yep.’

‘I’ve got some mates – I could hook you up with someone.’

‘I’m all right, thanks.’

‘Come on, it’d be fun the four of us going out.’

Jessica didn’t feel comfortable with the conversation. ‘Nah, I’m okay. I’m busy at work.’

‘Well, if you change your mind . . .’

‘. . . You’ll be the first person I call.’

Jessica thought she had enough on her plate without complicating things with dates or boyfriends.

A short while after, Randall stood and asked if he could get a glass of water.

‘Lightweight, are we?’ Jessica asked playfully, considering he’d had three cans of lager.

‘I’ve got a bit of a headache coming on.’

‘There are painkillers in the drawer under the sink if you want some?’ Jessica said but Caroline cut in. ‘Oh, he’s allergic to aspirin and things like that.’

Caroline stood up, pushing her boyfriend back to the sofa. ‘I’ll go, you explain.’

Caroline left the room and Jessica said: ‘Sounds nasty?’

Randall made a face as if to indicate ‘sort of’. ‘I’ve kind of got used to it. You live with the headaches and so on. Some people have it really bad, their throats swell up and within a few minutes they can’t breathe. With me it takes an hour or so.’

Caroline returned and gave her boyfriend a glass of water, which he drank a few mouthfuls from, then put the glass on the coffee table.

‘So what actually happens?’ Jessica asked.

‘It’s not happened in years because I just stay away from most medicines. Back then, my ears would start to ring slightly, then I’d come out in a rash on my arms. It’s only after an hour or so when the inside of my throat begins to swell. That could stop you breathing and kill you in theory.’

Caroline spoke then. ‘He had to tell me because if he ever had anything by accident, if I noticed a rash on his arms or anything, I would have to call an ambulance. That’s a telltale sign.’

Jessica just nodded but she was glad it wasn’t her. ‘Must be hard getting over hangovers,’ she joked.

Randall got up, saying he had to go to the toilet. He left the room and, as soon as they had heard the bathroom door close, Caroline wasted no time.

‘What do you reckon?’

‘He seems nice. You seem good together.’

Caroline grinned. ‘It helps that he’s hot too.’

Jessica grinned back. ‘He’s not too bad. Bit young for you.’

‘Young? I’m only thirty. He’s twenty-three, you cheeky mare.’

‘That’s toyboy territory. Mrs Robinson and all that.’

‘It is not.’

Both women were now laughing with each other. ‘You should take him up on the offer of going out with his mate. It would be fun with the four of us and take your mind off the job, too. You deserve a night away from it all.’

‘Nah.’

‘Go on . . .’

‘Well, maybe. Not now though, I’m busy. Maybe in a few weeks when things have quietened down?’

Having a fun evening in with her friend was beginning to take Jessica’s mind off the fact that things were not going well at work.

‘I’m glad you like him,’ Caroline added.

‘He seems like a good laugh.’

‘He is. He told me he was quite shy as a kid but says I’ve brought him out of it. He’s quite sensitive when you get him on his own.’

‘As long as he treats you all right.’

‘Well, if he doesn’t I know a police officer that can put him right.’

The flushing of the toilet brought an end to their conversation but, before Randall could return, Jessica’s phone rang anyway. She had dumped her bag by her shoes next to the living room doorway and forgotten to take her phone out. She answered just a moment before it would have rung off.

It was Cole telling her that another body had been found.

11

Just because there had been another killing, there would have been no instant reason to link it to the first – until you saw the crime scene. There were so many parallels to the first death. The property was less than half a mile from Yvonne Christensen’s but this time the victim was found in an armchair in the living room. It looked as if there had been more of a struggle but there were still deep, vicious wounds in the victim’s neck.

The second murder scene was very similar to the first but with one major difference: this time the victim was male.

As Jessica walked into the interview room at Longsight, she didn’t know how to feel. She had been at work the entire day and the wine she’d shared with Caroline on an empty stomach was only just wearing off. Any crime scene could be enough to make you feel a bit queasy but, as time edged into the late evening, her stomach was rumbling and she didn’t feel quite right. She guessed a large part of that was down to the mixed emotions she was having. A part of her was exhilarated that something was now happening and relieved she wasn’t necessarily a failure. Then she felt disgusted with herself, ashamed of her selfish reaction to someone else’s death. It was hard to reconcile the two thought processes.

Cole was already sitting at the table opposite the station’s duty solicitor, who was next to a terrified-looking young man.

Jonathan Prince still lived at home with his parents, despite being twenty-two. He had come home from work and found the body of Martin Prince, his father, in an armchair which the Scene of Crime officers were now taking photos of.

Cole started the tape and Jessica spoke to confirm everyone’s name plus the time and date before pausing for a moment. ‘Are you okay, Jonathan?’ she asked.

No response.

‘Jonathan?’

‘Yeah, yeah. I’m okay. Well, sort of . . .’ The young man spoke slowly, dazed.

‘Okay, Jonathan I have to ask you these questions, all right? I know you’ve had a horrible time but anything you can tell us will help us find out who did this. Do you understand?’

‘Yeah, yeah . . . I know.’

‘Can you tell me what you’ve done today?’

Jonathan took his time and was frequently tearful. The solicitor said he didn’t have to do this now but Jonathan wanted to. He said he had got up and gone to work as normal. He was employed as a builder and left the house at half-past six every morning. His mum, who worked as a secretary for the council, was always up at that time too, although he rarely saw his father before he got home. He told them his dad used to work for a printing company but had been laid off a few years ago. He hadn’t found work since and rarely left the house.

‘He just couldn’t find anything to do with himself and no one wanted to give him a chance because of his age. He became a different person. Not bitter . . . just sad.’

It was hard not to be touched by the way Jonathan spoke about the father he had found dead just hours before. Jonathan himself had been unemployed for a period after leaving school but had now been in the building trade with a local firm for just over two years. He had thought a few times about moving out but his rent helped pay his parents’ mortgage and he didn’t want to leave them in a tough situation.