'His old house was less than a mile away from where the attack took place.'

'Another coincidence. It signifies nothing.'

'Maybe, but Virginia is in the target age range, slim, pretty, dark haired and confident.'

'So are hundreds of thousands of other girls in the country.'

'Was there trace evidence at the scene?'

'Ma.s.ses. Trouble is the copse was full of debris so it's going to take a long time to sort through.'

'What about from the girl?'

'She'd been washed in a stream that runs along the edge of the field but we found a foreign pubic hair, so we've trying for DNA. No s.e.m.e.n.'

'The washing is consistent with the other crimes. A stream is less thorough, but he must have been familiar enough with the area to know that it was there.'

Cave opened his mouth to belittle Fenwick's point but closed it again when nothing occurred to him and tried a different argument.

'The girl was drugged with GHB.' Gammahydroxybutyrate had replaced Rohpynol as the date rape drug of choice. 'That doesn't fit.'

'Far simpler than seduction or a.s.sault, and he needed her compliant for the drive. Why risk the taxi ride unless the place was significant to him?'

The same point had occurred to Cave but he didn't see why he should start to discuss his case with this arrogant p.r.i.c.k.

'Anything else?'

'The girl's description of her attacker. Did you have a likeness made?'

'It was very vague. She'd been drugged remember. The waiter in the restaurant added to it but it's not much to go one. Here, you can keep it.'

Fenwick studied the e-fit. It showed an attractive man with an unlined face, wide set green eyes, clean-shaven wearing an earring. The style of hair was completely different and altered the shape of his face so that there was little similarity with other e-fits.

'Will that be all?' Cave could sense his disappointment.

'For now. Would you have any objection if I interviewed the girl?'

Cave tensed.

'Yes I would. She's completely screwed up by the attack and only came out of hospital yesterday. We have an expert rape officer coaxing information out of her but we're getting precious little.'

'Could I speak to the officer, then?'

'If you must.'

Fenwick escaped from the office, pleased with his extraordinary, and out of character, self-control.

He parked the car in front of the house, 23 Beech Pa.s.s, and waited. The specialist rape officer had arrived to talk to the girl as soon as she woke up and was still inside. She should be due to leave soon. Less than a quarter of an hour later a short red-haired woman left the house and walked down the drive. She stopped when she saw Fenwick step out of his car and glared at him with suspicion.

'I'm not a journalist, don't worry. Chief Inspector Andrew Fenwick, Harlden CID.'

She studied his warrant card carefully, comparing his face with that in the photograph.

'Harlden?'

'It's in West Suss.e.x. I'm up here because I think there may be a link between this crime and others that we have under investigation. Chief Inspector Cave has agreed to my asking you some questions.'

'OK, we can use my car.'

In the privacy of its interior she relaxed a little.

'Fire away.'

'Did he say anything when he raped Virginia...'

'She's Ginny or Diamond to her mum and dad. He swore at her. Called her a f.u.c.king b.i.t.c.h, a filthy cow. Said women were all the same. It was clear that there was a lot of hatred involved. He despises women.'

'And before, in the restaurant?'

'She can't remember but she thinks he was quite normal.'

'Confident? Articulate?'

'All I can say is that nothing he said or did made her feel uneasy.'

'What injuries did she suffer?'

'He cut and beat her, and her body is covered with bites.'

'Bites? Have you sent photos to the Met so that they can check them against those the other girls sustained?'

'No idea, but I'll check with Inspector Cave when I get back. That's all we have from her so far.'

After she'd gone he stared up at the house. He was desperate to talk to Ginny and hear her account directly but to do so would put at risk the painstaking work being done by the specialists. After a moment's pause he drove away. Behind him, unnoticed, a motorcyclist quietly slipped his machine into gear and followed.

Ginny watched the man and Siobahn, the nice policewoman, from behind the net curtain at the front window. He looked OK, but she was glad that he hadn't tried to come in. Her face still looked a mess from the bruises, although her mum insisted it was getting better. She had a stinking cold and she had spots like she was thirteen years old. Her hair needed a wash but she couldn't face the thought of doing it herself and had resisted her mum's gentle suggestion that she could do it for her.

She never wanted to look attractive again. Her counsellor had explained that she would feel mixed up but none of the woman's words could describe the self-loathing that she felt. Tears of self-pity made her eyes blur.

She went back to the sofa and snuggled down under the blanket. It was comfy and she tried to sleep. Napping during the day was better than sleeping at night when the nightmares would come and shock her awake into darkness. During the day there were noises of her mum or dad in the background. They were taking it in turns to have time off work so that she wouldn't be on her own. Even her brother was being nice to her. To welcome her home he'd bought her something from the Body Shop with his pocket money. Her little sister had been an angel, drawing her pictures every day. Alex was only ten and didn't know what had happened but she knew that her big sister had been hurt and the knowledge made her eyes grow huge with misery.

She missed them. Dad had driven them over to Grandma's, away from the police visits and the journalists' phone calls. It was better that they'd gone she told herself but regretted that she had said no to the opportunity herself. At the time, the idea of stepping outside the house had been too awful. She hadn't worn anything but pyjamas and a dressing gown since...for a long time.

Sometimes she thought she would go mad. Life would never, ever be the same again and the realisation made her weep for her loss. In one session with the counsellor in hospital, she had been asked to choose just one word to describe how she felt. To her own surprise she had said bereaved, and had known at once that it was true. She was in mourning for herself, for the Ginny who wasn't afraid of the dark, who could sleep for ten hours and wake with a smile, who had been looking forward to growing up and everything that it would bring.

The old Ginny was gone forever. She'd been killed as surely as if she had died that night. There were tears on her face again. She dragged out one of Dad's big white linen hankies from her dressing gown pocket and dabbed at her face, then pulled the blanket up about her ears and curled into a foetal position with her back to the world.

CHAPTER TWENTY-FIVE.

Constable Knots was waiting for him at the station.

'What have you found out?'

'I've spoken with the headmistress and teachers who were at the school when Smith and Griffiths were there. They remembered them, Smith more than Griffiths. Said he was bright, c.o.c.ky, inclined to bully the younger boys.'

He put his notebook away.

'That's it?'

'Yes, sir.'

'And were they friends?'

'The computer-science teacher thinks they might have been. They sat together in cla.s.s.'

'What about the drama teacher. Why was Smith barred?'

Knotty raised his hand in a plea for sympathy.

'I haven't found her yet. It's the school holidays and she wasn't in when I rang.'

'The doctor?'

'Next on my list.'

'Then what are you doing here? Get on with it.'

Fenwick watched him go, shoulders slumped, feet heavy. Perhaps he shouldn't have been so sharp with him. Knotty was doing his best and he'd only had two hours. Next time he saw him he'd be more understanding.

Chief Inspector Cave was about to leave when Fenwick found him in his office. He let his impatience show as Fenwick detained him.

'What now?'

'Thanks for your help this morning. I spoke with Siobahn.'

'So you'll be leaving now.'

'Yes.'

Cave turned to go.

'There's just one thing.'

'If it's about the bites, that's sorted.'

'Great. But I thought you'd want to know that there was no police presence at the Matthew's house.'

'So? It was probably a shift change.'

'Well...' Fenwick felt a war inside between the wise diplomat he was trying hard to become and the direct, outspoken know-it-all that he really was. The smart alec won. 'Don't you think there should be someone there constantly. She's unfinished business.'

'A five- or ten-minute gap won't do anyone any harm. Most of the journo's are keeping away she's already old news.'

'Killer B failed to kill the girl in Wales. I don't think he'll be prepared to leave another murder unfinished.'

'If it is the same man, he's already shown the opposite. You're wasting my time.' Cave made to push by him but Fenwick stepped in front of him, close enough to smell stale coffee on Cave's breath.

'Please. I know I'm way off my patch, but give me the benefit of the doubt. One extra officer doesn't cost much and it would serve as a deterrent. I'm getting to know Smith and how he thinks...'

'You're becoming obsessed you mean.'

There was no point getting into an argument.

'Possibly but I don't think so and...'

'No, Fenwick. This is my case and there's absolutely no proof that Killer B and/or Smith is the man. Her mum or dad are always there, we have a car outside except for the shift change and there are regular patrols. Nothing you can say will convince me that she's still at risk.'

With that he was gone leaving Fenwick the subject of long looks from officers pa.s.sing by. In his cramped office he called Robyn but she'd barely started to a.n.a.lyse the old cases and had nothing to tell him. If he hurried he could catch the next inter-city train to London and be back by early afternoon.

Whilst the train was waiting for a signal to change outside Euston, his mobile phone rang. It was Knotty. Fenwick was conscious of the crowded compartment and tried to speak in a whisper but it didn't work.

'Ah...yes.'

'Is that the Chief Inspector?'

'Indeed it is.'

'Are you all right, sir?'

'Oh, yes.'

'Except that you sound, you know, odd.'

'No, I'm on a train.'

'Still? Blimey, that's hours late, that is.'

'Quite. What's the matter?'

'Oh nothing. It's just that you said to call you with anything that came up.'