He wanted to hit MacIntyre. The man had dragged him back here with his sarcastic insistence that he'd been wasting his time, but he stopped himself. He couldn't pa.s.s on the blame that easily. It was his fault. One time he would have followed his instincts whatever the price. He was too concerned about his own career, that was the problem, too busy trying to please people rather than catch killers. He'd been seduced into forgetting that that was what real police officers actually did.

'Jesus.' He turned away from MacIntyre in self-disgust and pulled out another towel to wipe his face free of moisture.

'And where would you have sat?'

'In the car.'

'At the front of the house. He went in the back, Fenwick. She was dead in minutes. Her mother left to go to the local shop and shortly afterwards the officer on duty had an urgent call of nature and had to leave. He swears it was for less than five minutes. When they returned, Ginny was dead.'

'I could have saved her.' The possible truth of the statement ate into him like acid.

'It wasn't your case, it wasn't your patch. You were up there on an unrelated matter. A highly experienced local SIO was in charge. If there is any blame it's his, not yours. Do you understand me?' He swung Fenwick round to face him and almost shook him.

'I'm going to be ill again. Would you mind going?'

He was, very ill. Eventually, empty and light-headed, he straightened his tie and walked back to MacIntyre's office.

'I've changed my mind. I will come with you. I need to see it, to be there.'

'Don't be such a b.l.o.o.d.y m.a.s.o.c.h.i.s.t. You're coming with me because you're going to help me catch this b.a.s.t.a.r.d before he kills anyone else. Do you need anything?'

'My overnight case is in my office. And I'll take my files.'

'I'll see you in the car park in five minutes.'

MacIntyre had arranged for a driver and Fenwick was glad. He didn't think he could handle a car. They were silent for the first part of the journey. Traffic was thin and the flashing blue light cleared a swathe before them.

Fenwick asked the driver to pull over at the first service station and went to buy a sports drink, bar of chocolate, and two coffees.

'You not having one?'

'Don't think my stomach could take it. I'm craving sugar and salts.'

'Perhaps you ate something that didn't agree with you. You were looking off-colour all afternoon.'

'Probably.'

MacIntyre stared at him strangely.

'What?'

'You knew this might happen. Why?'

'Didn't you think it possible?'

'No even Ball didn't. I've spoken with Cave. He's gone over his rationale for the level of protection with me and...'

'Perhaps he's rehearsing his lines.' The bitterness inside Fenwick made his mouth twist in disgust.

'I'm sure, but the point is that other officers would have done the same.'

'Even though she witnessed a murder?'

'She was unconscious, drugged out of her mind for the whole episode. And he didn't care about being recognised. The barman saw him at the Italian they went to. And the taxi driver, if he hadn't gone back, which was a highly unusual thing to do, he would have been a witness. This man doesn't care too much about being seen.'

'Whatever. She's dead. Only eighteen and he butchered her. That should never have happened.'

'How do you know he butchered her?' There was a sharpness in MacIntyre's face that jolted some sense into Fenwick. He wanted to stay on the case, catch the b.a.s.t.a.r.d, revenge Ginny and save Nightingale. He would need all his wits.

'You said so after Cave's call.'

'I didn't describe how she died but you're right. The injuries inflicted on her were dreadful. How did you know?'

'It would be in keeping with his MO. Smith detests young pretty women with dark hair.'

'Supposing Ginny's killer is Killer B and Killer B is Smith. Do you think that you know this man's mind?'

All Fenwick's instincts screamed at him to be cautious.

'I've simply studied the crime scenes and I know the profilers' reports off by heart. That's given me an insight.'

'Hmm. Do you think he'll still be in Telford?'

'No. His business is finished there. He'll have moved on.'

'To find Nightingale.' He resisted voicing the thought and concentrated instead on working through what Smith would do next. Despite his careful answer to MacIntyre, he felt unusually connected to the killer. He was convinced that if Nightingale hadn't decided to leave Harlden and her past so completely behind her, she would have been dead by now because Smith needed to punish her for catching his partner. He finished his drink and the last chunk of chocolate then closed his eyes for some precious sleep, on the a.s.sumption that there would be little in the days ahead.

MacIntyre woke him as they turned onto the M52, shaking him roughly by the shoulder in impatience. The expression on his face, irritation mixed with a hint of respect, brought Fenwick to instant wakefulness.

'The prints on the knife. I've just had a call. Apparently Forensics were asked to look for matches against evidence you gave them, on my urgent instructions?'

Fenwick said nothing. Yes he'd used MacIntyre's authority, so what, how else was he to get anything done?

'The prints match a set found on the letters sent to Griffiths. You know what that means, we have a confirmed link. Griffiths knows Killer B. They said that you'd given them a box to test as well?'

'From the Smith house, yes.'

'Well they lifted some good prints and ran those against the knife as well. One set is a match.' MacIntyre soft punched his shoulder. 'Congratulations. You were right, Killer B is Smith. You'd better get on the blower to that sergeant of yours in Harlden. The search for Nightingale has more priority now. Even your ACC should devote resources to it. You sort it while I break the news to Telford. Somehow I don't think it's going to make Cave's day.'

The moment of victory meant nothing to Fenwick. It had come too late to save Ginny and he shrugged the Superintendent's compliment to one side. He'd been right from the beginning, but all he could think about was a dead eighteen-year-old lying in her own blood in the supposed safety of her own home.

The autopsy on Ginny had been given highest priority and had started by the time MacIntyre and Fenwick arrived. Fenwick's self-imposed penance didn't extend to compulsory attendance at the weighing and measuring of her mortal remains so he filled in time until Cave's return reading reports and studying the b.l.o.o.d.y scene-of-crime photographs. There was a full-scale manhunt in progress but so far there was no sign of the killer.

'He ran across a rubbish dump and the dogs lost his trail.' MacIntyre shook his head in disgust. 'They have roadblocks everywhere but there are so many lanes that the best hope is helicopters.'

'How did he arrive at the house?'

'No idea. He walked through the back garden and picked the lock on the back door but there was no sighting of a suspicious car or bike.'

'Who found her?' Fenwick radiated flat calm but MacIntyre looked at him warily.

'One of our boys. Her mother was walking back from the shops when she noticed the broken bathroom window. Fortunately the patrolman got there first. Thank G.o.d she didn't have to see this.' MacIntyre gestured to the lurid 8" x 6" photographs in which the predominant colour was red.

'So she broke the window and tried to escape. Plucky kid. If someone had been outside...'

'Drop it!' It was an order.

'Yes...sir.' He was in a filthy mood, making it a dangerous time for employee relations.

'We should go and eat. I know looking at that lot isn't an appetiser but it's going to be a long night.' MacIntyre was determined to force him to return to common sense.

By the time they returned, Cave was in his office. They shook hands but Cave couldn't meet Fenwick's eye.

'Any sightings?'

'None. And as we don't know what he's driving the search is slow. The key question is, what is he likely to do next?'

MacIntyre looked at Fenwick. 'Go on, you probably know him best.'

'If it's Smith, I think he will try to leave the area. It's what he did after the crimes in London and Wales.'

'Which direction?'

Fenwick shrugged.

'It could be anywhere but Birmingham's a possibility. He went there by train after London and it's where Griffiths has been sending the letters.'

Cave nodded.

'That's what I thought. It's where I've focused the roadblocks. Any other ideas?'

'It's a long shot but his father had a holiday home somewhere. We haven't been able to trace it unless Robyn Powell found it, or Knotty.' Mentioning the constable's name brought a frown to his face. 'd.a.m.n, he'll be back in London now.'

'I think she left her report in your old office if you need it. We've also arranged some accommodation for you both at the Armada.'

'So what now. How best can we help?' MacIntyre's tone was perfect. Fenwick tried to memorise it for later use.

'A personal briefing to the team. There's nothing you can do in the search. The Chief Constable himself has become involved. We have all the resources we need, now.'

The visitors ignored the trace of bitterness in the man's tone.

'You don't need me for that. I'm going to read Robyn's report and try to contact Knotty.' Fenwick left them to it.

Robyn had stuck an Ordnance Survey map to the wall. It had developed a rash of red spots worse than Knotty's acne and they formed a pattern of sorts. She had highlighted the location of Griffiths/Smith's school with a circle drawn around it to indicate the distance the boys could have travelled within two hours. Each red pin had a number by it, which corresponded to one on a list on his desk. By referring between the two he could follow the patterns she had discovered of incidents that slowly escalated during the years before they left school.

It was useful corroboration but they had a physical link between Griffiths and Smith now and Fenwick's attention was drawn to an unexplained splattering of pins to the west of Telford. In the hills on the Welsh Borders she had placed three red pins and several black ones. Why and how had she found these crimes? The answer was in her meticulous report. She had looked through all the records for crimes that matched the characteristics of those around the school and then cross-checked them with the physical descriptions of perpetrators that matched Griffiths and Smith. There were none to the east or north. Every one lay between Telford and the boys' home, or in the hills beyond.

He found the relevant notes and read them out loud in the privacy of his office.

'The black pins relate to reported cases of animal mutilation, ranging from rabbits to farming livestock. The smaller animals were flayed and gutted, the larger (a pony, five sheep, one calf, a pet dog) had their genitalia mutilated. The interesting thing to note is the dates. Every incident takes place in the school holidays.

'The red pins relate to minor s.e.xual a.s.saults, again in the holidays.

'Pin number sixty-three: Indecent exposure. Reported by thirteen-year-old girl near Belsize Lake. Description of a young man with brown hair. August 16th, 14.25.

'Sixty-four: Indecent a.s.sault on sixteen-year-old girl in hills above lake. Description as for sixty-three but face was covered with a scarf. August 20th, 17.45.

'Seventy: Indecent a.s.sault on twenty-year-old hiker in hills above lake. Description of short, heavy-set youth wearing balaclava does not match those in sixty-three and four. September 2nd, 9.10 a.m.'

He drew a line around the pins encircling an area of less than a square mile through the middle of which ran a single-track road with a scattering of houses on either side. Robyn had found the Smith's holiday home.

At one-fifteen a.m., Fenwick joined MacIntyre and Cave on a deserted road half a mile from Belsize lake.

'There are six cottages spread out well back from the road. We have teams ready to enter and search each one.'

The three men waited without speaking then Cave's radio broke the silence. He listened and grunted a response.

'Nothing in cottage Charlie, a family from Cheshire are renting.'

The scene repeated itself three times in quick succession.

'Only Cottage Echo and Bravo left. Both are empty. We're waiting for clearance to enter.'

Ten long minutes pa.s.sed before the team at Echo reported back.

'Echo has been lived in. The fridge is stocked and there are fresh ashes from a fire in the grate.'

They went down the hill together. It was nearly two a.m. but Fenwick felt alert and full of energy. Cave pa.s.sed out latex gloves and they were given shoe covers at the door. An armed officer came to find Cave as soon as he arrived.

'You need to see this.'

The man took them to the bathroom and an open laundry hamper. He pulled out a shirt with the tips of his gloved fingers. The cuffs were soaked with blood and there was heavy splattering on the front.

'It's still damp in folds of the material, and there are dried traces in the sink over there.'

'Get a full SOCO team out here right now.'

'Done, sir.'

Fenwick's hair was standing up from his scalp as if an electric current was running through him. Smith had been here recently, he was no longer a phantom who could come and go without leaving a trace of his pa.s.sing other than mutilated young women. He needed air and stepped back outside.

The night was clear, the moon almost full. It lit up the landscape in a grey-blue light that cast dense shadows and washed all colour and depth from the scene. He tried to imagine Smith driving through country lanes, heading away from his latest crime but the scene wouldn't fix in his mind.

Smith had killed Ginny ten hours before. It would have taken him twenty minutes to drive back here, another twenty to wash and change. He had more than a nine-hour start on them. It was conceivable that he had even left the country by now. His euphoria faded as the realities of the search hit him. With a wry smile he realised that he had already dismissed his successes: discovering that Killer B was Smith, linking him to Griffiths, finding this place because of his insistence on reviewing old crimes. They would mean nothing if he didn't catch Smith before the man found Nightingale, or some other victim.

MacIntyre came to stand beside him and lit a cigarette.

Fenwick waited for an acknowledgement that MacIntyre had been wrong to doubt his visit north but it didn't come. Instead the Superintendent asked a question.