Joe thought about that. ‘Probably not, but it’s a close run thing. Just over half of killers like this attack strangers, and so we should try and root out the local psychopath, but we would be foolish to rule out a connection. It might be worthwhile going further back with Jane and Deborah. Were they friends at school, or at the youth club? Did they both know anyone called Emma? Or what about their parents? But this could just be about the weedy kid who was always humiliated by the pretty girls. Now he is all grown up, he sees the pretty girls as the cause of his problems, and so pretty girls are in his revenge fantasies.’

‘Do we have someone going to the schools?’

He pointed towards Rachel, who glanced over. ‘Rachel is doing the rounds. When I’ve finished trying to get something from the computer about grown-up child arsonists, I’m going to research Jane and Deborah, see if anything comes up from their past.’

‘Why didn’t you start there?’ Laura said. ‘You once told me that the victims are the most important thing to look at, because they help to identify the type of killer.’

‘And that’s still true, but I don’t think the killer is someone from Jane or Deborah’s past, because that would mean that the killer is in his early twenties, maybe even younger,’ he said. ‘That seems too young, especially for a well-developed method like this, repeated both times. We have to consider everything, so I’m looking, but I would put the age of the attacker as being nearer forty, or maybe even older.’

‘Because the young aren’t as controlled?’ Laura said, and when Joe smiled, she added, ‘you’ve told me that before.’ She pointed at the papers. ‘So how long will you be doing this for?’

‘Not much longer,’ he said. ‘I’m hitting too many blanks.’

‘What sort of person are you looking for,’ Laura said, ‘apart from someone with arson or animal cruelty in their past?’

‘Mr Invisible,’ Joe said, and frowned. ‘This person will not be immediately obvious. Think about the scenes. You mentioned control. That’s how they were, well-ordered, with the bodies laid out, clothes gone, no forensic trail. This killer is no fool, and most importantly, the bodies weren’t mutilated.’

‘They had dirt and leaves jammed into their mouths and other orifices,’ Laura said.

‘I think that was part of the fantasy, because it happened before they were killed. If the killer is some oddball, unable to control himself, the body would have been badly mutilated. There would have been forensic trails everywhere, and we would have probably caught him pretty quickly. The fact that the bodies were not like that suggests that the whole killing was controlled and considered, which means that the life that he leads will be just like that, a façade, where no one knows what he really thinks. He may have built up the picture-perfect life. Steady job, local church. Maybe even marriage and children. His house and car will be neat, and everyone will comment, when he’s caught, that he seemed such an ordinary man.’

Laura exhaled. ‘So he won’t be on the radar much then?’

Joe shook his head. ‘This is a desperate trawl, nothing more, but we need to build up a suspect list.’

‘Don’t let Don Roberts see it,’ Laura said. ‘There’ll be a bloodbath. He’ll see it like a hit list.’

‘And that’s why we need to find whoever is sending the emails, in case there is a leak,’ Joe said. ‘So Don is still not cooperating?’

Laura shook her head. ‘That’s where I’m heading next, just for one more try,’ she said. ‘There are people working their way through Jane’s friends, but it’s all a mystery so far.’

‘And what about Jack?’

Laura sighed at that. ‘He’s writing the leak story.’

‘It’s a risky business,’ Joe said.

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’m worried that Jack’s first instinct was right, that he might be something more than a leak, because there is one person who does know all the details, and that’s the person who killed the two women. If the leak is the killer, we risk giving him a platform, because he thinks he can communicate with us through Jack.’

‘Why do you think he’ll do that?’

‘Because that’s what they do,’ Joe said. ‘Whoever is killing these women, they’re displaying power, maybe for the first time. One thing he will enjoy is the mayhem it creates. He will follow the news story and take pride in beating us, the police, because this whole thing is about flexing his muscles.’

‘It’s a calculated risk then,’ Laura said, ‘because if the description of the bodies makes someone think of a name, or decide not to shelter him anymore, it will be worth it.’

‘That’s the problem with risks,’ Joe said, waving his pen at her. ‘They can go wrong, and in this case, that will mean another dead woman.’

Chapter Twenty-Six

Laura glanced out of the car window and felt a tickle of nervousness. She took a couple of deep breaths and brushed the lint from the front of her suit.

She strode up to the door of Don Roberts and pressed the bell. The electronic chime echoed inside and she looked around as she waited, turning back when she heard the click of the door latch. When the door opened, she saw that it was Don, wearing the same clothes as the day before, a plain black T-shirt with gold necklaces dripping across his chest. Tough guy caricature.

‘Hello, Mr Roberts,’ Laura said, trying to sound friendly, so that he might forget for a second that she was a police officer.

He considered her for a moment, his teeth clenched, and then, to Laura’s surprise, he stepped to one side.

‘Come in,’ he said, although it was more of a command than a welcome.

As she walked past him, she saw things she hadn’t noticed the day before, when her focus had been on breaking the bad news. There were reflective stones set into the stairs, so that each step shone like a glitter ball, and the wallpaper was thick black flock, but when the sunlight caught it, there was a red underlay to it, something more special than a roll from the local DIY shop. It was always the way with crooks, that they can’t bank the money and so they spend it, usually on cars and chandeliers.

Laura was even more surprised when she went into the living room. The room was the same as the day before, bright red leather sofas in front of a large television, with white ornate dog figures in the corner, but this time it was filled with people, and it didn’t look like the family had gathered to offer their condolences.

There were six men sitting down, every available piece of red leather taken up, and all of them looked to be from the same mould, with muscles stretching their T-shirts, the blue and black curls of tattoos stretching down their forearms. They wore their hair shaved or cropped short and their mouths were set into scowls.

Laura tried to stay relaxed, nothing was going to happen to her, although she felt her mouth go dry and her heart hammer in her chest.

‘We need to speak in private,’ she said to Don.

‘Do you have a suspect?’ he said.

‘I would rather we discussed this alone.’

‘I wouldn’t,’ he replied sharply.

‘I didn’t come here to be a sideshow, Mr Roberts.’

He nodded towards the door. ‘That’s the way home, sweetheart.’

She looked down for moment, and then she sighed. ‘Okay, if this is how you want it,’ she said. ‘No, we don’t have a suspect, although it is more difficult when the victim’s family won’t help. Why won’t you help? You’ve nothing to hide, I presume.’

She fought the urge to take a few steps back as Roberts clenched his jaw and took some deep breaths through his nose.

‘You can call me many things, but I would not harm my daughter,’ he said, his voice turning into a growl. He looked at the men on the sofa, and a quick glance from Laura told her that they were shocked. Roberts turned back to her. ‘You think you are doing a great service, ticking your boxes. Spoken to bereaved family. Tick. Tried to find boyfriend. Tick. But you’re wasting your time, because people won’t want to talk to you.’ His lips curled into a smile, but his eyes remained dark and cold. ‘People will talk to me.’