De Vakey shrugged, ‘Nothing can be carved in stone. A profile is about a type of person, not a specific one. But when you’ve studied patterns of aberrant behaviour for as long as I have, you can’t help but notice certain persistent constants.’

‘I know what Monty means, though,’ Stevie said. ‘Look at the Linda Royce case. It’s as if he deliberately tried to make her different from the others: the paint, the elaborate posing, the quotation on her thigh.’

De Vakey looked from one of them to the other. ‘Yes, but fundamentally it’s still the same crime. You’re correct, Monty, when you see the hair as the common link. The man is out to depersonalise the victims, and what better way to do it, especially with a woman, than to cut off her hair? This is the one thing he cannot help doing because it is rooted in his deepest fantasies. It is something he cannot change, no matter how clever he thinks he is. As for the Easeful Death quote, perhaps in his own warped way he thinks that by killing them he’s doing them a kindness.’

‘But it wasn’t written on the prostitutes at all,’ Monty said.

‘Four years have passed, the line might have come to his notice in the meantime,’ De Vakey replied. ‘Who knows what he’s been up to since then. Maybe he’s pursued further education in an attempt to curb his impulses, and maybe it did for a while, until something sparked him off again. The KP murders were a crude attempt to shock; these later murders smack of a much higher level of sophistication.’

De Vakey’s tone was almost one of admiration. Did he regard this murdering animal as a worthy opponent? Stevie shivered and drew her legs tight under her body.

‘Whatever it was, he’s had a huge increase in confidence since the KP murders,’ De Vakey continued. ‘Prostitutes are low-risk victims. They put themselves in harm’s way each time they take on a client. Linda Royce and Michelle Birkby, on the other hand, were high risk; they would have been reluctant to put themselves in any kind of dangerous situation. They have family, friends and loved ones who would miss them immediately. This fact would increase the buzz for our unsub and give him an even greater high when he got away with it. The next victim will probably be even more of a risk to him, and I predict that she will turn up sooner rather than later.’

Stevie met Monty’s worried glance.

‘This man will only stop when he’s caught,’ De Vakey answered their silent question. ‘Think of the worst case of drug addiction you’ve ever known and multiply it by ten. The whole of his psyche has been taken over by these urges. When he’s not physically committing these crimes he’s fantasising about them or preparing for the next one.’

‘Have you any idea when that might be?’ Stevie asked.

De Vakey shrugged. ‘I predict the next murder could be within days.’

Stevie stiffened and looked at Monty who stared back at her, speechless.

‘When is the re-enactment of the Linda Royce walk?’ De Vakey asked, forcing an end to the shocked silence.

‘Sunday,’ Stevie said.

De Vakey rubbed his hands together. He seemed animated, his face flushed with excitement. ‘Not only will this reenactment serve as a memory jogger for the general public, it may even lure our killer out. His toying with the police is as important to him as the murdering of his victims. The toying, in fact, has escalated to another plane with the murder of a police officer’s ex-wife. He won’t be satisfied with anything less now.

‘This re-enactment will be hard for him to resist. We need a press release which will list his characteristics, something like...’ he drew quote marks in the air and spoke rapidly, ‘Fit white male twenty to forty years old, intelligent, compulsively neat and tidy. May drive a dark van and own a German shepherd dog. He probably comes from a dysfunctional family and suffered childhood abuse. A history of lighting fires, bedwetting or cruelty to animals and/or younger children.’ He paused. ‘Has anything been mentioned to the press about the absence of sexual assault?’

‘Nothing one way or the other, no comment,’ Monty said.

‘All the better then, we’ll say he’s impotent or gay.’ De Vakey looked at Stevie as he explained his rationale. ‘This may hit a nerve and could quite possibly be correct. It may goad him into wanting to prove us wrong. If we get him angry, he’s more likely to slip up.’

Stevie felt the sofa move as Monty shifted his weight. ‘You think he might target Stevie?’

De Vakey appeared not to have heard Monty’s question. He leaned towards Stevie with his elbows on his knees, as if they were the only people in the room.

‘We can go on to say that the killer feels inadequate with women, could be a closet homosexual or impotent for some reason, the victims are merely an outlet for his rage. My assessment regarding this re-enactment is that our unsub would love to be there, though maybe not in an obvious way, maybe not with the rest of the crowd. It would be a private moment for him. I’ve walked the area, I’ve studied the maps. If I were in his shoes, I’d hide in the alleyway just down from the bus stop. While in hiding I would fantasise about the female police officer. I would imagine her continuing her walk down to where I was and I would see myself grabbing her, from right under the cops’ noses. Now, if this was only in his head, how would he feel if it really happened, if she really did come down the alleyway? He would see it as something that was meant to be and he’d throw caution to the wind. He wouldn’t be able to help himself.’

Stevie glanced at Monty. The knuckles of the hand that gripped the sofa’s armrest were white. She sensed what was coming.

Monty spoke before the De Vakey could continue. ‘I don’t like your plan. We’re talking about life and death here, not a day trip to Rottnest Island.’ The challenge in his tone was unmistakable.

Stevie wondered how De Vakey would respond.

His animation faded, he was back to his usual sea of calm. ‘The chances of his coming to the alley are slim, Monty, but it’s worth a try. I’m merely trying to predict his actions.’

‘No, you’re not getting me,’ Monty said, ‘I’m all for the reenactment, but this ending in the alley, this newspaper advert is ludicrous. She’ll be far too vulnerable—they can hardly position the TRG behind the dustbins.’

‘Maybe not behind the bins, but you’d be surprised at how well these kind of plans can work. Angus and I will consult with the TRG leader and we’ll work out their placement together.’

‘Okay, but if he is there, there’d still be a risky delay between his grabbing her and back-up arriving.’

‘This is just supposition, Monty, a long shot. I’m just trying to think objectively.’ De Vakey passed a tongue over his lips and looked Monty in the eye.

Monty sprang to his feet. ‘And I’m not?’ he bellowed. ‘You’re not being objective, you’re being callous. You want us to use Stevie as bait, for God’s sake. This is a re-enactment we’re talking about, something that is supposed to be shown on television as a memory jogger—not a bloody entrapment! You’ve said yourself that you don’t do individuals, only types. Who knows how this creep will respond to your goading through the press? He could do anything.’ Monty kicked out at a beer can they’d missed and it clattered into the wall.

Stevie squirmed on the sofa. Monty was supposed to be one of De Vakey’s most staunch supporters, but here he was going against the first proactive suggestion the profiler had made. And besides, she wanted to do it.

She tried to keep her voice cool and steady. ‘But it could work, Monty. Why not try to kill two birds with one stone?’

‘Three birds, more like,’ he said. ‘I won’t have it. I will not endanger you in this way. The only thing I’m sure De Vakey is right about is the fact that this creep is building up to something bigger and better. The timing of this re-enactment is wrong. I’ll have it cancelled.’