Part 7 (2/2)

'There's nothing to worry about, darling. Perhaps that's why she was on Daddy's phone. Maybe he'd seen something on the news about her, or perhaps somebody sent him the picture thinking it was me.'

Josh shook his head with determination.

'No. That's not right. She wasn't in the news yesterday. They said the picture has just been released. And anyway this is a drawing. On Daddy's phone it looked like a photo.'

Soft fingers of dread were crawling up Maggie's spine.

'So what's she on the news for? What's she done?'

'She hasn't done anything, Mummy. She's dead.'

18.

The girl in the drawing looked very real a bit too real to Tom, who had so recently been looking at the same face on the autopsy table. The artist had done a good job, and now they could only wait and see if the picture's publication in the papers and on the local news would bring any results.

Tom had already phoned Leo's family to let them know the woman in the picture wasn't her, and he had also made a quick call to his daughter, Lucy. She had come to know Leo well during the time Tom had been seeing her, and the drawing was so lifelike he didn't want Lucy to see it on the television and think, even for a moment, that it might be Leo. He also had to prepare his daughter for the fact that he might not be able to see her that weekend. She was used to him having to change arrangements whenever some serious crime or other took over his life, but he hated it.

'I'm sorry, Luce,' he said. 'As soon as this is over, though, I'll have a word with your mum and see what we can sort out.'

Lucy had been quiet, and for a moment he had thought she was upset. When she spoke, though, he could sense reluctance to tell him something.

'Actually, Dad, I was going to call you. I asked Mum to, but she said it was up to me to tell you.'

'That's okay, sweetheart. Just say it, whatever it is.'

'You won't be cross, will you?'

Tom laughed. 'I seriously doubt it, Lucy. Try me.'

'Well, the thing is that I've been picked for the school swimming team, and we have practice on a Sat.u.r.day morning. I haven't said yes yet, because I know it means I wouldn't be able to see you for the whole weekend.'

Given the number of times he had had to let her down, Tom didn't think he deserved this level of consideration.

'Of course you've got to be in the team! I'm proud of you. Would it be okay if I came to watch when I'm not working? Maybe I could pick you up afterwards. Do you think that would work?'

'Oh Dad, that would be brilliant,' she said, and he could hear how pleased she was.

They talked for a few more minutes and, promising to call her again over the weekend, Tom hung up and went in search of Becky.

'Becky, can you get someone to pull some old files out for me, please?' he asked.

Tom saw Becky's puzzled frown. She still didn't seem to have entirely recovered from the morning's upset, and her face had remained slightly flushed ever since, in spite of Tom making it clear that he fully understood the conclusion she had leapt to.

'What old files?' she asked.

'We had two murders twelve years ago. Two girls were killed in fairly quick succession, both from Manchester University.'

'Do you think they're connected to this case?'

'It's a possibility.'

In all honesty, Tom didn't know what to think. He remembered his shock when he had seen the second of the two dead girls all those years ago girls whose murders he had been tasked with solving. The second girl had looked so similar to the first that it had knocked him for six. It almost felt like some kind of sick joke, but when later he saw pictures of the two girls alive and animated they actually weren't that alike. The same blonde shoulder-length hair and the same blue eyes had seemed enough, though, when their faces were expressionless in death. There was something particularly sinister about the murders, as if it was the girls' physical appearance that had got them killed, and the two abandoned locations Mayfield station and Pomona docks had somehow made the crimes feel even more disturbing.

The woman found this morning had no physical resemblance to those girls, but the three lines cut deep into the flesh of her thigh couldn't be a coincidence. They had suspected twelve years ago that it might be the start of a serial killing spree, but the murders as far as they were aware had stopped. So did the three cuts signify that this was the same killer, and if so, why start again now?

In the original enquiry they had interviewed vast numbers of people, but there wasn't a single tangible clue worth following up. The two murdered girls appeared to be totally unconnected, other than by their physical appearance. They were both students at Manchester University, but then so were thirty-odd thousand other kids.

He explained the background to Becky.

'The first girl was called Sonia I can't remember her surname. The other was Tamsin Grainger. The reports are thorough most of them were written by a trainee detective. A young lady by the name of Philippa Stanley.'

Becky looked up from where she was scribbling notes, her eyebrows raised. 'You are kidding me?'

'Nope. She was originally on the fast-track programme, heading for the heights of a.s.sistant Chief Constable or something like that. But her stint working with me gave her a taste for being a detective. She got no end of stick from our DCI at the time, who was a misogynist t.o.s.s.e.r, but she stuck with it and opted to stay in CID.'

Tom knew that Becky was aware of Philippa's period as his inspector when he first became a DCI, but she hadn't known the full history before. It gave him a certain edge when it came to dealing with Philippa, although he never forgot that she was now his boss and he respected her.

'What do you want me to look for in particular in the files?' Becky asked.

'To be honest, I don't know. Until we know who our latest victim is, it's going to be difficult to find any links, but at least if we've dug out the information we're ready to go as soon as we've got an ID.'

'Okay,' Becky said, pus.h.i.+ng her chair back as if ready to leave.

'Are you all right now?' Becky flushed. 'Look, it's been a s.h.i.+t day. Why don't you get one of your team to call you if we get any info on our victim and get off home. You've been at it since the early hours. They can hold the fort for now. Go and see Mark and get some rest.'

'No chance,' Becky said, standing up to leave the room. 'I've still got b.l.o.o.d.y Alf Horton to sort out.'

'We didn't get the expected confession, then?'

'No, sadly not. DS Blake conducted the interview yesterday and apparently Horton gave every indication that he was ready to admit to his sins. Blake said Horton's solicitor looked as if she was going to be sick as the crimes were listed. It would have saved a stack of work and money if he had said, ”Yes I did it”.'

'Who's his solicitor?' Tom asked.

'A new woman. She's supposed to be a very good defender. I suppose she's going to come up with something clever to get him off.'

Tom smiled. 'That's her job.'

'Yeah, I know.' Becky gave a slight shrug of her shoulders as she opened the door, knowing this was par for the course. 'I don't envy her, though. Fancy knowing you might be putting a b.a.s.t.a.r.d like that back on the streets.'

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