 
### Splendour in the Grass

Doug Hilditch

Smashwords Edition 2012

Copyright 2012 Doug Hilditch

The author asserts his moral rights under the Copyright Designs and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

All Rights reserved.

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people. If you would like to share this book with another person, please purchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're reading this book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for your use only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase your own copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

DEDICATION

This book is dedicated to Lolita Bamford who, for over 20 years, urged me to write a novel. Sadly, she is no longer here to witness my efforts finally making it into print. Lolita was a wonderful lady whose hard work and commitment to everything she did is a tremendous inspiration. It has been a great privilege to have known her as my friend and she is sadly missed by everyone who knew her.

ACKNOWLEDGEMENTS

I would like to thank my sister Mary for always believing in my abilities as a writer. Her honest criticism has helped improve my writing over the years. I would also like to thank my parents for their unwavering support. Finally, my special thanks must go to my beautiful wife Tess, for all her advice and suggestions. Without her help and encouragement this book may never have been written.

That though the radiance

Which was once so bright

Be now for ever taken from my sight,

Though nothing can bring back the hour

Of splendour in the grass,

Of glory in the flower,

We will grieve not, rather find

_Strength in what remains behind_.

William Wordsworth

He sat up in his car seat and licked his lips with anticipation as he spotted the young couple exiting the pizza parlour and walking towards him. This was going to be a good night, he could feel it. Here she comes, his prize. He wound his window down slightly to catch the cool breeze as his temperature had started to rise and he adjusted the crotch on his jeans. He watched the couple intently as a big cat watches its prey. The lovers walked slowly down the avenue of parked cars, oblivious to his gaze.

"My parents have asked us to dinner on Saturday evening," Brian Taylor smiled down at his girlfriend as they walked hand-in-hand across the parking lot.

"What time? Only Jessie and I are going shopping for the day. We're going to see if we can choose a wedding dress," she laughed and pulled on his arm.

He laughed back and kissed the top of her head.

"Don't worry it won't be until about eight. I would hope that you'd be back by then, or at least run out of money."

"Don't be so sure. You know what Jess and I are like when we're indulging in a bit of retail therapy. Shop till you drop, that's our motto."

Becky Reid really couldn't wait to get married. Brian was her true soul mate and all she wanted was to spend the rest of her life with him. This had been a great year for her. She had graduated with honours from University, where she had been studying Computer Sciences, and had landed her dream job working for a large company specialising in supplying high quality computer generated imagery to the film industry. Those jobs didn't come up very often so it was very much a case of being in the right place at the right time and she felt very fortunate. The icing on the cake for her was when Brian had proposed to her. They had met whilst at college and she knew fairly quickly that he was the one.

They stopped walking when they reached Brian's car.

"I'll see you tomorrow then Babe," Brian opened the boot of his car and tossed in the small holdall containing his badminton gear. Shutting the boot lid he turned and kissed her.

"Okay. I'll come over to yours about seven."

"Can't wait," he smiled and kissed her again.

"Laters," she laughed and walked off in the direction of her own car. As she was putting her own bag into the boot of her little Renault Clio she heard a toot and turned to see Brian driving past, hanging out of his driver's side window.

"I love you," he shouted.

"Love you too, see you tomorrow," she called back, laughing.

She watched until his Saab turned out of the car park and disappeared from view, then she climbed into the driver's seat of her own car and started the engine. After putting on her driving glasses, she reversed out of her parking space and, two rows away, the engine in the large Isuzu Trooper sparked into life. As her Renault reached the exit to the car park the Isuzu made its way down the line of cars and followed her out onto the main road.

Becky smiled as her favourite Etta James song came on the CD player. Turning up the volume on her stereo, she sang along to the record as she drove home. Becky enjoyed her Thursday evening ritual with Brian. After work they would meet up at the Leisure Centre, play badminton for an hour, and then share a large Neapolitan in the adjacent pizza parlour. She looked at the dashboard clock, not long now and she would cosy up for an early night in front of the TV with her parents. The Leisure Centre was only eight miles from where she lived so she would soon be home. Becky occasionally stayed over at Brian's flat but always went home Thursday evenings as she had a production meeting first thing every Friday morning. She needed plenty of sleep to give her a clear head for the following day. Brian had asked her to move in with him but she told him that she didn't want to move out of her parents' house until she was married. It was not because of any old-fashioned reasons, it was because she loved living with her parents and wanted to spend as much time with them as she could before she got married.

The lights of the town fell behind her as she moved further out into the countryside. A mile out from the town she turned off onto a minor road. There was never too much traffic on these roads and she enjoyed the drive. Glancing in her rear-view mirror she noticed another car as it followed her onto the minor road, but thought nothing of it.

After another mile she started to slow down as she approached a T-junction with a stop sign. Coming to a halt at the junction, she was suddenly thrown back into her seat as the car following ran into the back of her Renault, the force shunting her little car about a yard forward, pushing its nose well over the white line. The noise was incredible and she dreaded the thought of what kind of damage had been done to her beautiful little Clio. It took a second or two for Becky to compose herself after the shock of the collision. Looking in the mirror she saw the lights of a larger vehicle.

"You stupid wanker!" she said angrily as she unbuckled her seatbelt.

Throwing open the driver's door, she climbed out and made her way to the rear of her vehicle to inspect the damage. She was unable to see the driver of the four-wheel drive because of his car's headlights. Suddenly a row of spotlights on the roof of the big vehicle came on, dazzling her even more. Becky was aware of the driver getting out of his car and moving towards her.

"I'm really sorry," he protested. "I guess I wasn't paying enough attention. Is there much damage done?"

Becky was bending over examining her dented boot lid and broken tail light as the man's footsteps got closer. She started to straighten up and turn towards the man.

"Well the light's broken for a start . . ." her words stopped mid-sentence as she was struck hard on the forehead by something solid. Her glasses were knocked from her face and skittered under the Renault, the left lens cracking with the force of the blow, and Becky collapsed onto the tarmac.

A large red mark started to appear above Becky's left eye as the man stuffed the weapon into his back pocket and bent to pick up her unconscious form. With his hands under her arms he dragged her to the rear of his car. Holding her up with one hand, he opened the rear door and manhandled her into the luggage space of the four-by-four. Hurrying around to the driver's side he got in, put the automatic gearbox into drive and sped away.

Danny Warren was relieved to be coming off duty, he had been working for nearly eleven hours solid. He was pleased to have finally put the Post Office robbery case to rest but the amount of paperwork it had generated was astronomical. Paperwork was the one thing he disliked the most about being a copper.

He was going over the case in his mind as he drove along the quiet country road on his way home. He pulled up behind a small Renault waiting at the junction. At first he took little notice of it, other than the fact that it had only one rear light working. When it failed to move off he suddenly realised that he could not see the driver of the vehicle.

Puzzled, he wondered why the car was sitting unattended with its lights blazing. Something did not seem right to him so he decided to take a look.

Opening his car door, he stepped out into the cool evening air, walked over to the vehicle and, bending over, peered into the driver's side window. The engine was off but the keys still hung from the ignition. On the front passenger seat was a lady's jacket and a handbag.

Straightening up again, he looked around for any sign of the driver.

"Hello," he shouted, "anyone about?"

He stood listening for a few moments but there was no response. He walked over to the grassy bank at the side of the road, climbed up and looked around to see if maybe the driver had been taken ill and had gone into the field alongside the road. Walking up and down the road calling out he still got no response so decided that he needed a little help if he was going to find the driver. Returning to the car he opened the door and, reaching in, picked up the handbag. Popping the clasp he rummaged around to see if he could find any identification of the driver. The handbag contained the usual makeup items, a purse and a mobile phone. Opening the purse he discovered some money, credit cards and a driver's licence confirming that the driver was a Miss Rebecca Reid. The various credit and debit cards were all in the same name.

"Well Miss Reid, where the bloody hell are you?" he asked aloud as he gazed about him in the darkness.

He returned the purse to the bag and put the bag back where he found it, on the passenger seat. Then, closing the driver's door, he returned to his own vehicle to get his mobile phone from his jacket pocket.

It was as he was dialling that he noticed again the Clio's broken tail light and saw the pieces of shattered lens on the tarmac.

"Hi Sarge, it's Danny Warren. Listen, I have a bit of a situation here." He brought the duty sergeant up to speed and requested some backup. "I think we should maybe get one of the forensics guys out here too. There's no sign of the driver and her purse is still in the car with all her money and cards in it. I have a horrible feeling that we may be looking at an abduction."

Danny's next call was to his wife to warn her that he was going to be late home and not to wait up. Then he settled back into his driver's seat to wait for backup to arrive.

The Isuzu crept slowly through the deserted country park. He knew there would be nobody about but he was still cautious. Eventually, the man brought the vehicle to a halt alongside a small toilet block. Killing the engine he got out of the vehicle and stood very still for a few minutes, listening. Once he was quite sure he would not be disturbed he walked around to the back of the car and opened the rear door.

The girl was still unconscious as he lifted her out and made his way into the bushes behind the toilet block. After a few yards he lay Becky down on the grass. The sky was clear and the full moon meant that he could see fairly well, once his eyes were accustomed to the darkness.

Kneeling down beside her he untied her shoelaces and pulled off her trainers and removed her sweatshirt and bra. Becky started to regain consciousness and, realising what he was trying to do, she screamed and started to struggle, covering her exposed breasts with one arm. He punched her hard in the face, the crack of her nose breaking seemed especially loud in the quiet of the park. She let out a muffled cry and fell back dazed. Becky's head pounded and the pain in her nose was incredible. In her muddled and terrified state she became aware that he was pulling off her tracksuit bottoms and panties. Again Becky tried to struggle but he was too strong for her and held her down firmly by kneeling across her chest. He straddled her and continued to undress the girl until she was completely naked. Standing up he pulled off his own pants and grinned as he saw how aroused he had become. Straddling his victim once more he pulled her legs apart and forced himself into her. The pain of the sex brought Becky Reid out of her semi-conscious state again and she started to scream. He forced his hand over her mouth and held her down more firmly as he continued to rape her. Suddenly, it was he who yelled out in pain as Becky sank her teeth into his hand.

"Bitch!" he spat and punched her again in the face several times, breaking her cheekbone and loosening some teeth. Remaining inside her as she lay sobbing, he sat up and reached over to retrieve one of Becky's trainers. He never took his eyes off the girl's face as he stripped the lace from the shoe. He tossed the trainer over his shoulder into the undergrowth.

"I'm going to teach you to bite me, you cheap little whore."

Grabbing a handful of her hair, he lifted Becky's head off the ground and wound the lace twice around her neck then, grabbing each end of the lace, he pulled as hard as he could. Becky tried to scream as the lace bit tighter and tighter into her throat. Her eyes were wild as she grasped at the man's hands in a desperate attempt to pull them away. Becky's head felt as if it was going to explode and she became more disorientated and weak through lack of oxygen. Her efforts to make him stop were futile and he pushed harder and harder into her as the life drained out of her. He continued to rape Becky Reid's lifeless body because the act of killing her stimulated him even more. To him it seemed to make the act more erotic, more arousing. So much so that he continued to pound away at her dead body long after he had finished his orgasm.

At last he climbed off her, stood up and pulled his trousers back on. He looked down at Becky Reid's body and smiled with satisfaction. Picking up Becky's other trainer he absent-mindedly stripped the remaining lace from it and stuffed the lace into his pocket. Then, without a backward glance, he made his way back to his car. As he approached the vehicle he suddenly realised that he was still holding the girl's shoe. He looked at it for a moment and then tossed it behind the toilet block, got into his vehicle and drove away.

The Scene of Crimes Officer arrived ten minutes after the two patrol cars. Danny walked over to him and shook his hand.

"Hi Andy, thanks for coming out. The driver may have just wandered off but I'm not so sure, I think we may be looking at an abduction so wanted one of you guys to just check over the scene before it gets disturbed."

"No problem Mate. If this turns out to be something major then anything we can find at this stage could be crucial to the investigation."

"There is a handbag on the passenger seat. I had a quick look inside to establish the identity. The car belongs to a young girl named Rebecca Reid. I put everything back where I found it. I'm the only one who's touched the vehicle. I'm trying to get these guys to spread out and have a look around the area to see if she is somewhere about."

Andy Shaw pulled on some rubber gloves, opened the passenger door of Becky's car and set to work.

"Can I check her mobile please Mate? I want to see if I can get a number for next of kin to see if she's turned up at home."

Andy opened the bag and handed Becky's mobile to Danny who went back to his own car for a seat. Luckily the phone was still on and had no keypad lock. Danny had never used a touch-screen phone so it seemed a little strange to him at first. At last he managed to get into her Contacts list and scrolled down through them. He came to one which was marked Home and made a note of the number. He made notes of four other numbers before taking out his own phone and dialling.

"Hi Sarge, Danny Warren again. Can you get check the address for this young lady please, to see if she still lives there?" looking at his notebook he gave the address he had copied from her driving licence.

After a couple of minutes the sergeant came back to confirm that Becky's address was correct.

"She lives there with her parents, James and Susan Reid."

"Thanks Sarge, I'm going to head over there now. Any chance you can arrange to have the vehicle recovered after Andy Shaw's done his bit please? I think he may want to have a good go over the outside of the vehicle back at the ranch. Thanks."

After informing his fellow officers, he got back into his car and set off in search of Becky's house.

Danny Warren had wanted to be a copper for as long as he could remember. Even as a child his favourite game was Cops and Robbers. Inevitably, he would always be the cop. Police work was in his blood. His father had been a Policeman and his grandfather had been a Copper before him. Danny looked up to both of them with a kind of hero worship.

His Grandfather had retired from the force after twenty-seven years. His father joined the ranks as a beat cop but had always aspired to detective work. His big break came after eighteen years on the force but was short lived. Two months into his new post Detective Constable Stanley Warren suffered a massive stroke. He collapsed in the office and was rushed to hospital but it was too late, the damage to his brain was too severe for him to make a full recovery. So began the long and painful process of rebuilding his life and the lives of those closest to him. Stanley was left paralysed down his left side so was confined to a wheelchair and was invalided out of the Police Force on a not unreasonable disability pension. At the age of fourteen Danny was devastated, seeing his hero unable to walk or even dress himself was hard for him to comprehend at first, but he made up his mind that he was going to follow in his father's footsteps and become a detective. His father had a very good grasp of what was going on around him. His speech was slow and considered but he had no difficulty in communicating. When Danny's Father, Mother and Grandfather attended the Passing out Parade at Hendon Police Training Centre, on the day that he completed his training and became a fully-fledged Police Officer, there was not a father at the ceremony more proud of their son than Stanley and when Danny came over and gave him a huge hug he wept tears of joy.

Years had passed since then and Danny had not regretted a minute of it. He took to Police work like a duck to water, almost literally. About four years in to his career he became noticed by the Powers That Be within the force after receiving a Commendation for Bravery from the Chief Constable after diving into a river to save the life of a child. A group of children were playing along the bank of a river swollen by the recent rains. One ten year old boy had slipped and fallen in and was carried downstream a short distance before grabbing a branch from a tree that had fallen in the river. There he clung, getting colder and weaker by the minute. Two of the boy's friends ran for help and, by pure coincidence Danny was driving towards them on his way back to the station. They flagged him down and, after radioing for help, Danny ran after the boys. Seeing the situation he didn't hesitate for a moment. Kicking off his shoes and shaking off his jacket, he plunged into the murky water. He was a strong swimmer but the water was cold and the current running fast. Within a few seconds he was alongside the boy. He instructed the youngster to climb onto his back, put his arms around his neck and hang on tight. Danny knew that fifty yards further downstream the water was shallower as the river turned almost ninety degrees. After shouting to the boy to hold tight, they left the safety of the tree and the two floated downstream with the current. It was hard for Danny to do breast stroke with a boy frantically clinging around his neck but he made enough headway to get past the centre of the river by the time they reached the bend. Danny judged the curve perfectly and as he lowered his legs he felt the gravely bottom of the riverbed under his feet. Hoisting the boy up into a piggy back he waded ashore to the cheers of the children on the river bank. Within minutes an ambulance and another police car arrived. After a quick look over by the paramedics the boy was taken to hospital for a check-up.

Stanley Warren beamed as he watched his son receiving his Commendation for this selfless act of bravery. It was to change Danny's life for the better.

The following year Danny was tipped off about a forthcoming vacancy in the Criminal Investigation Department. The competition was tough but Danny applied and was accepted. It was one of the happiest moments of Danny's life when told his father the news and Stanley was, once again, the proudest father in England.

Now, as he turned his car into the road where Rebecca Reid lived Danny smiled as he thought back to that moment.

The family residence was a comfortable-looking four-bedroom detached house in a fairly quiet area of town. A large 7 Series BMW sat on one side of the double width driveway. Parking in front, Danny got out and walked up the drive to the porch. He rang the bell and waited. After a minute the door was opened by a tall middle-aged man.

"Hello. Can I help you?"

"Mr Reid?"

"James Reid, yes."

Danny flashed his warrant card.

"Detective Sergeant Danny Warren, Wiltshire Constabulary. I'd like to speak to you about your daughter Rebecca."

"Becky? Why, what's happened?" Danny could hear the concern in his voice.

"May I come in?"

"Yes . . . yes, of course." James stood to one side to allow Danny to enter and ushered him into the lounge. Susan Reid looked up in surprise as the stranger came into the room.

"Darling, this is Detective Sergeant Warren. He wants to talk to us about Becky."

Susan jumped to her feet.

"Why? What's happened? She isn't in any trouble is she?"

"That's what I am trying to find out," said Danny reassuringly. "Mr Reid, I understand that your daughter lives with you?"

"Yes, but I . . ."

"Mr Reid, is Rebecca here with you at the moment?"

"No, she hasn't come home yet. She plays badminton on a Thursday evening with her fiancé, Brian. Look, what's this about?"

"I'm sorry, Mr Reid but this evening I came across Rebecca's car on the outskirts of Shellington. It was abandoned at the side of the road but her handbag and mobile phone were still on the passenger seat and there was no sign of Rebecca. We are not sure if the car had broken down or been in an accident. It could be that she went for help. We don't know at the moment. We are just trying to find her to make sure she is all right."

"I'm sure she would have called us if she'd broken down. More likely she would have called Brian. Either way, I'm sure she would have been more careful than to have left her mobile and handbag."

"What made you say she could have been in an accident? Was the car smashed up? She may have been taken to hospital." Susan's eyes started to well with tears and James Reid put his arm around his wife to comfort her.

"No the car isn't badly damaged, it's just that I noticed that a back light had been broken as if someone had run into the back of her car. Not hard, just enough to break the light and push her forward a few feet. We've had no reports of any road traffic accidents."

"Oh, God, I hope she's all right." Susan Reid grasped her husband's hand tightly.

"Her fiancé, Brian is it? Does he live locally?" asked Danny.

"No, he lives in Bristol. Do you think she may be at his flat?"

"It's possible, do you have his number?"

"I'll give him a ring now." James went into the hallway to phone Brian. He returned a few minutes later.

"No, she's not with Brian. He hasn't seen her since they left the Leisure Centre. He's worried sick, as we all are now."

"Do you have an address for Brian please, Mr Reid? I'd like to have a chat with him about this evening's events."

"He's on his way here now. As soon as I explained what you have told us he said he would be right over."

"Mr and Mrs Reid, would you have any objections if I send an officer over to sit with you. I don't want to worry you too much at this stage as there could be a perfectly logical explanation and, hopefully, she will turn up safe and sound. At the moment though, as she is a young girl, on her own, I am going to treat this as a missing person case. As a precautionary measure we would like a little more background information and a recent photo if you have one."

The following morning, as soon as he had arrived at Police Headquarters, Danny was summoned to his superior's office.

"Morning Danny."

"Morning Sir."

"I understand you didn't get much in the way of sleep last night."

"Correction Sir, I didn't get any sleep last night. When I did get to bed I couldn't sleep for worrying about a young girl I have never even met."

"You've done a good job so far lad. That was quick thinking on your part calling it in and getting SOCO involved. I have Andy Shaw's initial report here." Detective Chief Inspector Allen Green slid a file across his desk towards the detective.

Danny picked it up and started to read.

"Shaw reckons your hunch was right and that it is an abduction. There was no sign of foul play inside the car. The broken tail light and dents in the bumper make it look as if whoever took her shunted her up the arse in order to get her out of the car. Once out, she was more vulnerable. She was probably overpowered and taken away in the other vehicle."

"It says here that hair samples were found."

"Yes, bloody good work Shaw finding those, especially at night by torch light. Must have eyes like a bloody hawk. Apparently, he found the girl's glasses under the car, she must have lost them during the struggle. There were a couple of hairs caught in the hinge of the glasses. They must have been pulled out as she lost them. He's asked the Reids if he can have some samples of Rebecca's hair for comparison." Green sat back in his chair and crossed his arms. "Anyway, once he got the car back here they went over the outside a bit more thoroughly. Shaw thinks the perpetrator's vehicle was larger and heavier than her car, possibly an off-roader."

"What makes him think that?"

"Apparently, the light was broken high up by the attacker's bumper and there are dents higher up on the boot which Shaw thinks may have been put there by bull bars. There was black paint in the dents. He's having that analysed at the moment."

"Poor kid." Danny looked at the photograph in the file. It was the one Becky's parents had given him last evening. It had been copied and was being circulated to other forces throughout the area.

"In a lot of cases the perpetrator is someone the victim knows. Any luck with the boyfriend?"

"He seems to check out okay. He says the last he saw of Becky was in the parking lot as she was getting into her car, at about seven-thirty yesterday evening. He drove home stopping at his local mini supermarket on the way to get some beers and bread. That checks out fine. He has the till receipt and the owner of the shop confirms he was there around eightish. He'd never have had time to do it."

"The first forty-eight hours are crucial in these cases so the quicker we can get her photo out there and start asking around the better. Take Jackson and go over to the Leisure Centre and the pizza place. See if anyone can confirm the boyfriend's story about what time they left, or if anybody saw anyone suspicious hanging around the complex. It's possible someone followed her. I'll get Johnson and Miller to go to her place of work."

"Yes Sir," Danny got up to leave.

"And Warren."

"Yes Sir."

"Try not to get too involved, eh?"

"No, Sir." Danny sighed, "I can't help it Sir. I have a seventeen-year-old daughter myself and when I think of what that poor girl's family must be going through . . ."

"I know it's tough. But we have to try and detach ourselves as best we can."

"It doesn't stop me feeling like shit though Sir."

"All part of the job Danny Boy, all part of the job."

Danny collected some things from his desk then headed for the canteen to look for his colleague, Martin Jackson. Ten minutes later they were heading out of the compound on their way to the Leisure Centre.

It had been two days since he had killed her and he had started to get worried in case the body had been discovered. He thought he had better move the girl before someone found her. He'd seen enough CSI and crime and investigation programmes on TV to know that, the longer a body was left out in the open, at the mercy of the elements, before it was discovered, the harder it would be to find any evidence. He also knew that if he moved the girl then they would still not know where the scene of the murder was, so even less chance of finding any evidence.

It was just starting to get dark as he made his way out to his car. He threw the red tartan blanket on the passenger seat and reversed his vehicle down the driveway and out onto the road. The big engine growled as the Isuzu pulled away from his house. A little while later he pulled up across the road from the entrance to the country park and waited until he was certain no more cars were going to come out. Once sure, he started his engine and drove slowly down the quiet gravel road. After five minutes he pulled to a halt alongside the little toilet block where he had stopped only two days before. Grabbing the blanket he got out of the car. Again he stood quietly for a few minutes, listening intently. Once he was certain that he was alone in the park he made his way through the bushes to where Becky Reid's body lay. Looking down at her naked form he felt no remorse, just disgust. Not at himself or his actions, not even for Becky. He was disgusted at his wife for making him do this. He had been left little choice, he had been forced him to do this to Becky because it was the only way he had of getting back at his wife for what she had done to him.

He had been happily married to Linda for fifteen years. They had two young boys and a nice home. Then, four months ago he had come home to find the house empty, the family had gone. All that was left was a note saying that she had moved out and she was seeking a divorce. She said she could no longer take the abuse and she was taking the children to a safe place, away from him. The cheeky cow had accused him of having a violent temper but that was not true. If she hadn't continuously been stupid and ungrateful, and had done everything exactly as he told her to, he wouldn't have had to hit her so often. He only hit her when she needed it. The trouble was she needed it most of the time. It was her own damn fault and she knew it.

She said that once his violence was directed at the children then it was the final straw. She would never let him see the children again. The only contact he had with her in the last four months was through some stuck up jerk of a solicitor.

"Ungrateful bitch," he muttered as he spread the blanket on the ground alongside Becky's body.

He rolled Becky over onto the blanket then collected up her clothing and tossed them on top of her. Folding the blanket over the body he hoisted it into his arms and carried it back to the car. Putting his foot on the rear bumper he balanced the bundle across his knee, steadying it with one hand whilst opening the rear door with the other. Taking the body again in both hands he opened the door wider with his hip and lowered the bundle onto the floor of the luggage space. Within five minutes be was back on the main road driving away from the park.

He drove for thirty minutes until he came to a turning he had been looking for. It was a dirt track off to the right that led deep into the woods. As a small boy, his parents had moved the family from north London to this area. In his youth he had spent many hours walking and playing in these woods and knew every inch of them. He knew exactly where he would leave her. Somewhere he was sure she would not be found for a very long time.

After a while he stopped the car and got out. Opening the rear door he hoisted Becky's wrapped body onto his shoulder, snapped on his torch and headed off into the trees. Ten minutes later he came to a gully about twenty feet deep, at the bottom of which was a shallow stream. He lowered the bundle to the ground and, taking one edge of the blanket, rolled the body out and down into the gully. As he did her clothing fell out of the bundle and landed on the edge of the ditch. Becky Reid's body came to rest almost at the base of the gully face downwards with one arm over above her head, dangling in the stream. He shone his torch down at her then picked up her sweatshirt and tracksuit bottoms and tossed them into the ditch where they landed amongst the bracken.

For the umpteenth time that day, Danny Warren checked his watch. He hadn't eaten all day and he was starving hungry. The search for Becky Reid was relentless. As the days passed the less likelihood there was of finding her. His enquires at the Leisure Centre had been fruitless. Brian's version of events was corroborated by other people at the badminton hall and pizza parlour but nobody had seen or heard anything suspicious in the Centre or in the car park. They drew a blank at her work too. It seemed that Becky was a very likable young lady who got on well with everybody. The questioning of her friends and family supported this view. It seemed that she had not an enemy in the world and everybody loved her. The more he thought about it the more Danny was beginning to think that this was just a random attack. She was simply in the wrong place at the wrong time and the attacker seized his opportunity.

"It's no good, Mart," he said to his colleague, "If I don't eat in the next fifteen minutes I'm going to pass out."

"KFC?"

"Sounds like heaven."

Martin Jackson steered the car into a small commercial centre on the outskirts of town. Pulling up in the car park they got out of the vehicle and entered the fast food restaurant.

After collecting their fried chicken they chose a table by the window and the two detectives set about devouring their meal.

"This case is really getting to me," admitted Danny. "I want to find this girl so badly. I can't believe there is not one single clue to go on."

"I know. It's almost as if she has vanished into thin air."

"I can't help thinking about my own daughter Melanie. How would I feel if it was her? Those poor parents, they must be going out of their minds. It just shows that it could happen to any young girl out there. We have to catch this guy."

"We will, we just need a break that's all. Let's hope we find her safe and sound, eh?"

"The trouble is that's less likely the longer she remains missing."

"Yeah, but we can't give up hope."

"I've told Mel not to go anywhere alone until we have this creep behind bars where he belongs."

They chatted about the case until they had finished their meal, after which they left the restaurant and headed back to their headquarters.

"I'm going to pop down to have a chat with Andy Shaw when we get back to Base Camp," Danny was eager to know if Andy had found out anything else that could possibly help them with the case.

As soon as they arrived at headquarters, Martin headed straight to the canteen for a coffee whilst Danny took the lift down to the Forensics Department. The Police Headquarters was housed in a large, modern purpose-built building. There were offices, meeting rooms and a conference hall on one side and on the other were changing rooms, showers and a gym on the ground floor, a large canteen on the second floor and a lounge, complete with couches, a TV and two pool tables, on the third floor. The whole of the basement was given over to the Forensic Laboratories.

They were so lucky to have the forensic facilities on site although, like so much of the policing activities nowadays, it was staffed mostly by civilians. To Danny, most of what went on down here was akin to the Black Arts. How these guys found some of the evidence that they came up with was beyond him. He had the utmost respect for them and the work that they did.

He knocked twice on Shaw's office door and went in. Andy was behind his desk and looked up as Danny entered.

"Hello Mate, you must be a mind reader. I was just thinking of you."

"Oh, really? Why?" Danny parked himself on a chair in front of the desk.

The room was small with three tall filing cabinets along one wall and a table along the other. Above the table hung two bookshelves, groaning under the weight of several dozen books. There were several books and at least twenty files scattered across the table and on Andy's desk were another small stack of files.

"Coffee?"

"Please, black, no sugar."

"The only way to drink it."

Andy stood and walked over to the filing cabinets, on top of which was a large coffee filter machine. Turning over two mugs on the tray alongside, he poured coffee from the large glass jug. Replacing the jug, he picked up the mugs and walked back to his desk, handing one of the coffees to Danny on the way past.

"I was going to drop this on your desk later but you've saved me the trouble now." He slid a brown card folder across his desk and Danny picked it up. "The measurements taken of the damage to Miss Reid's car are consistent with a much larger vehicle fitted with bull bars."

"So we're looking for an off-roader then?"

"Most likely, though not necessarily. I have estimated that the speed of impact was no more than about ten to fifteen miles an hour otherwise the damage would have been much more considerable. There was no skid marks on the road or any other signs of any hard braking."

"So it looks as if he deliberately hit her in the rear to make her get out and check for damage?"

"That would be the conclusion that I would come to. He hit her, not too hard to cause major damage, but enough to get the response that he wanted."

"The bastard," Danny read through the report.

"Quite." Andy sipped his coffee and looked at Danny. "The hair samples are interesting. I haven't had the DNA results back from the labs yet so I can't say one hundred percent that they belong to the girl but I have had a good look at them under the scope, and compared them to samples from the hair brush her mother gave me, and they appear to match. The DNA test should confirm it."

"When will we get the results of that?"

"Huh, your guess is as good as mine Mate. Unfortunately, we don't have those kinds of facilities on site. We have to send them to another lab that specialises. Trouble is, so do most of the forces in the country so they're snowed under. Could be a week or more yet, I'm afraid."

"Bloody hell, that long?" Danny sighed. "What can you tell me about the paint sample?"

"Not a lot. Standard black spray-paint by the look of it. The kind you can buy in any motor accessory shop. I'd say that the bull bars had either been resprayed by an amateur or our guy had used the paint to touch up some stone chips or something."

"So where do we go from here?"

"Your guess is as good as mine, Mate."

That evening Danny was cuddled up to his wife on the settee. He had managed to get away from the office at a reasonable hour for the first time in ages and was determined to relax. Melanie was staying over at a friend's house for the night so he and Claire were going to make the most of it. They were halfway through watching a movie on TV when his mobile phone rang. They both looked across to the coffee table at the offending object.

Claire turned to him and saw the expression on his face.

"You'd better answer it," she said.

"I know," Danny groaned, removing his arm from behind Claire's shoulder. Reaching forward her picked up the phone and pressed the green button.

"Danny Warren."

He listened intently to the caller, asking only the odd question.

"You're kidding me . . . When? . . . Where? . . . Has Andy been told? . . . Good, yeah, I'll come right over . . . Shit," he exclaimed as he hung up.

Claire could see the colour had drained from his face as he turned to face her.

"What is it Hon?"

"They've found another abandoned car. Same kind of damage to the back as if someone had rammed it. The driver is nowhere to be found but her bag and other belongings are still in the car. Looks as if the bastard's struck again."

"Oh, God no. Do you want me to make you a quick cuppa before you go over there Hon?"

"I haven't got time Babe. Don't wait up for me I have no idea when I'll be home again."

Claire kissed her husband and watch from the front door as he reversed down the drive. She hated what this case was doing to him. Normally, he remained quite detached from the cases that he worked. Somehow, this one had gotten under his skin, probably because he saw Melanie in this young girl and made him realise how vulnerable his daughter was.

Claire and Danny had first met when they were in the same class at school. They had dated a few times, but nothing serious. After leaving school they had not seen each other for over three years. Then, a few months after Danny had graduated from the Police training college, they had met at a mutual friend's birthday party. They sat talking for hours and, later that evening, Danny asked her out and she accepted. Danny realised not long after that this beautiful young woman was the one with whom he wanted to spend the rest of his life. Six months after that chance meeting they got engaged and, twelve months almost to the day, they were married in the delightful thirteenth-century Church of St Thomas in Salisbury.

After four years and two miscarriages, they were finally blessed with a beautiful baby girl whom they named Melanie. She was her Daddy's little girl and knew just how to get around her father.

Claire knew how much Danny loved Mel and worried about her safety, especially in light of the events of the last few days. She shuddered as a chill went through her and as Danny's car disappeared from view, she shut the door and returned to the lounge.

Within twenty minutes Danny arrived at the scene. There were three patrol cars and the SOCO van already in attendance. The white Nissan was half on the road and half on the grass verge. Compared to the Renault Clio, the damage to the back of the Nissan was only slight but it was a bigger, sturdier vehicle. Luckily the rain had stopped half an hour earlier so it made it easier for the forensics team to work. The area around the abandoned car had already been taped off.

"Hi Andy," Danny called out to a figure in white coveralls.

"Hi Danny, looks as if we may have something more to go on with this one."

Danny ducked under the tape and made his way towards Andy, stopping about ten feet away as he didn't want to risk contaminating the crime scene.

"What do you have for me then?" he asked, hopefully.

"Unfortunately, down here there is a bit of blood which makes me think our chap probably hit this poor lass a little harder than intended. There is also some clear glass along with the broken glass from the Nissan's rear lights. Could be the Perp busted his own headlight in the collision. But Mickey is processing our best bit of evidence."

To Andy's left was another white-clothed figure crouched with his back to them. The young man turned and looked at them when he heard his name mentioned.

"What is it?" asked Danny.

"Thanks to the fact that there are no kerb stones along here, and thanks to this typical crap British weather we've had today, the side of the road is very muddy and our friend has left us with a beautiful set of tyre prints."

"Fan-bloody-tastic!"

"Quite. Mickey has already photographed them and is now in the process of making plaster casts of the impressions. We should soon be able to tell you the make and size of the tyres and, hopefully, what type of vehicle they belong to."

"Excellent. Any idea who the victim is?"

"Martin's over there, he got here just before you. He is trying to get an ID on the driver."

"Thanks, catch you later." Danny walked over towards the police cruisers, behind which was Martin's car. A small group of onlookers had appeared and one of the uniformed officers was trying to keep them well back from the taped-off area.

As Danny approached his colleague's car, Martin got out and stood up.

"Hi Mate, what have we got?"

"The driver's name is Denise Foley, aged twenty-four. Shares a house with her friend in Shellington and works as a hair dresser in town. Sergeant Norris is trying to get hold of her house mate and her nearest and dearest."

"Looks as if it's the same M.O. as before."

"Yeah, though judging by the blood at the scene it also looks a little messier."

Danny stayed until the SOCO guys had finished their investigation of the scene and the vehicle had been recovered. It was two-fifteen in the morning when he fell into bed. Claire rolled over and put her arm across his chest.

"I love you," she whispered and kissed him on the bare shoulder.

"I love you too, Sweetheart," he kissed the top of her head. Lying like this, exhausted, he was asleep in less than fifteen minutes.

At eight-thirty Danny stood in the shower with the water cascading over the back of his neck. He had turned the temperature down in the hope that the cold water would wake him up a bit. He emerged from the bathroom to find Claire sitting on the bed looking concerned.

"What's up Hon?" he sat down beside her.

"Inspector Green phoned while you were in the shower. He wants you to call him as soon as possible and head over to Barrington Woods. They've found a body and they think it may be the missing girl."

"Oh, shit." Although he knew that it would almost certainly have come to this, Danny still felt a sense of failure.

He dressed quickly and called his superior back. Then, taking a slice of toast with him, he climbed into his car and headed in the direction of Barrington Woods.

The woods were part of what was once a much larger forest. Most of it had been cut down to make way for fields as, over the centuries, farmers had extended their land to grow more crops or graze their livestock. However, over some of the more uneven landscape there were still many acres of forest growing thick and lush. This was home to several species of deer and other woodland creatures.

The Scene of Crimes Officers were some of the first people on the scene. As the Senior Forensic Officer, Andy Shaw wanted to start processing the crime scene before it could be contaminated. After changing into their biohazard overalls and unloading all the equipment they would require, an officer, the first responder to the 999 call, led the way through the undergrowth to the crime scene. The body had been discovered by a couple walking their dogs, so one of the forensic officers remained by the van to interview the couple and take samples of hair and fibres from their clothing in order to eliminate them from any evidence gathered.

At the top of the gully, Andy took charge. He asked the non-SOCO officers to keep well back from the gully and, after scanning the area, instructed Mickey to photograph the body and surrounding area as thoroughly as possible from various positions. Mickey took photographs from every direction using trees and boulders as reference points so that a detailed map could be made of the exact position of the body. Once that was done he moved in to get close-up photographs of the body and the scattered clothing, again from different angles.

Once Andy was happy he asked two of the team to start searching the top of the gully for evidence and work their way down in a grid to process each item of clothing as they came to it. A small microphone was clipped to the collar of Andy's forensic suit and he reached into his pocket and pressed the Start button on the small voice recorder. He and Mickey made their way to the bottom of the gully following Mickey's original tracks so as to disturb the area as little as possible. All the way down he spoke into the microphone, describing the layout of the gully, its position, height and depth, the position of the body and a description of its appearance. Although the bottom of the gully was not covered in trees it was still fairly dark down there as the surrounding trees blocked out a lot of the light. Andy asked Mickey to bring down the lighting units from the top of the gully and showed him where to set them up to their best effect. The young lad struggled getting the large battery packs down the steep embankment but once the lights were set up and turned on the two men set to work looking for evidence. After drawing a detailed map of the area showing the location and positioning of the body, Mickey worked the surrounding area whilst Andy processed the body.

Although she had not been properly identified yet, from the photograph he had seen, Andy was certain that this was the body of Rebecca Reid.

"What a bloody waste of a life," he muttered as he set about his task.

As she lay face down on the ground, her head was turned to the left, the first thing Andy noticed was that the girl's nostrils were full of maggots. Her mouth was slightly open and more of the larvae squirmed around and inside her mouth. Andy reached into his Evidence Collection Case and took out a small jar. He scooped up a number of the maggots and dropped them into the jar, writing on the label before placing the jar into his box. Then he took swabs of various parts of the girl's body, clipping each one inside its own plastic tube. Lifting her arm out of the water he laid it at her side. Next, he placed the girl's hands inside two plastic bags and secured them around the wrists. This would preserve any evidence that may be on the hands, or under the nails, until she could be taken back to the mortuary where she could be processed more thoroughly.

He turned his attention to the ligature around the girl's throat. At first he thought it was just a white cord and then realised that it was a shoe lace. He noted the huge bruises on her head and face. He also saw the bruises on her shoulder as if she had fallen heavily on it prior to her death. The poor girl must have gone through hell, he thought. As he steadily worked the body he recorded a running commentary into his microphone on every little detail of the scene. Every observation, every description and every thought would be vital in piecing together what had happened to this girl. This recording would also be useful when it came to writing up his report at the end of the examination.

As he continued to work the body whilst the other members of his team worked on the surrounding area, bagging anything that they felt could be evidence. The items of clothing were all bagged, labelled and placed in the evidence cases for further processing in the labs.

As he approached the woods, Danny could see that the access road had been blocked off by a police patrol car. The officer sat on the bonnet of his vehicle, basking in the morning sunlight. As he drew up, Danny held up his warrant card and the officer returned to his car and moved it out of the way to allow access to the road.

About half a mile into the woods, Danny came to a halt behind the SOCO van. There were several other vans and cars parked up in the road and numerous officers milling around. DCI Green appeared from behind one of the vehicles.

"Morning Danny."

"Morning Sir. Is it Rebecca Reid?"

"We're not a hundred percent certain yet but we're pretty sure it is. Come on, I'll take you down to the site."

"How was she found?" Danny asked as they made their way into the dense undergrowth.

"The couple over there, Mike and Judy Robinson. They were walking their dogs early this morning." Green nodded towards an officer talking to a middle-aged couple standing alongside a maroon Volvo estate car, in the back of which sat two Weimaraners.

"They said that dogs ran off and started barking at something. The couple went in search of them to see what was so interesting and saw the girl's body in the gully. The dogs were probably attracted by the smell. Mr Robinson got on his mobile and called it straight in."

As they reached the crime scene more police officers were searching the undergrowth looking for clues. Two figures, dressed in white bunny suits were processing the body and three more were roaming the sides of the gully. Danny looked down at the remains of the young girl and his stomach turned. He turned away and took several deep breaths to stop himself from heaving. Even though he could not see her face, he knew that this was Rebecca Reid.

Once everything had been photographed and the Scene of Crimes Officers had finished processing the body and surrounding area, the remains were wrapped carefully in a sterilised white sheet so as not to lose any vital evidence. The body was then placed in a body bag and carefully lifted onto a stretcher. Whilst Rebecca was carried up the side of the gully, Andy continued his work on the area of bracken on which her body had lain.

Rebecca's body was taken away whilst the forensic team finished off their work and when Andy Shaw eventually appeared over the rim of the gully he came over to where DCI Green and Warren were standing.

"We have several bits of trace evidence we need to examine as well as processing the body properly but I can confirm that this is a Secondary Crime Scene."

"So she wasn't murdered here?" asked Green.

"No, she was murdered elsewhere and dumped here. Makes our life more difficult because we now have to try and determine where the Primary Crime Scene is as well. Still, must crack on. Some of this evidence needs to be dealt with pronto or it will be no good. See you chaps later."

"Cheers Andy."

"Good work, Shaw," DCI Green offered.

"Any developments on the second missing girl yet?" asked Green as they made their way back to the access road.

"Not much, Sir," replied Danny. "Seems she'd worked late and was making her way home. Unlike Miss Reid's case, he must have rammed her as she was driving which is why her car was halfway off the road. Maybe we'll have something when the forensic report gets in."

"I'm afraid that may take a little while. Our lab rats seem to have their hands full at the moment."

"Yes Sir."

He got up early and took his car to the local garage where he used the jet wash to blast off the mud and clay that was caked over the wheels and sides of the vehicle. The old quarry had been the perfect place to take the girl. Quiet, secluded and he had dumped the body into the water on the opposite side from where he had raped and killed her. It would probably be months or even years before she was discovered. By then any evidence that could lead back to him would be long gone. He smiled at himself as he blasted away at the mud.

When he had finished he returned home and went into his study where he turned on his computer. Once it had finished booting up he opened his browser and typed in the web address for the local newspaper. The main topic of news was the hunt for the missing woman Rebecca Reid. Alongside the article was a close up photograph of the girl. He looked at the girl's round face and shoulder-length blonde hair then glanced across the desk to the framed photograph of his wife with her round face and shoulder-length blonde hair.

"You bitch!" he snapped at her, "this is _your_ fault."

He got up and went in to the kitchen and grabbed a beer from the refrigerator, then returned to the office where he copied the article and photograph and pasted them on to a word document which he placed in a folder marked "Bitch".

After fixing himself an early lunch he changed into some clean clothes and left the house. Fifteen minutes later he parked the Isuzu Trooper in the main pay and display car park in the centre of town and crossed the road to the small coffee shop overlooking the adjacent pedestrian shopping precinct. The café doors were wide open and there were four tables arranged on the pavement in front. Choosing a seat in the sun with his back to the café, he sat down. After the waitress had taken his order he leaned back in his chair to watch the shoppers as they walked to and fro. He knew exactly what or who he was looking for.

After forty minutes and two cups of coffee he saw her. She was exiting the newsagent and walking towards the edge of the kerb, as if she was going to cross to the car park, and stopped. The sun shone on her beautiful shoulder-length blonde hair as she looked up the street. He stood up, dropping some coins on the table to cover the cost of his drinks. As he started to move in her direction a small sports car pulled up in front of the girl. A broad smile appeared on the girl's face as she got into the car. She kissed the young man driving and the car sped off down the high street. He cursed under his breath and walked to the newsagent.

The latest edition of the local paper led with the story of another abduction. It told how the car was found abandoned at the side of the road and how the driver, Denise Foley, had disappeared and drew comparisons to the case of the other missing girl, Rebecca Reid. The paper speculated as to whether or not there was a serial kidnapper on the loose.

He chuckled to himself as he read the article on his way back to his car. Once back in his car he flicked through the pages looking to see if there was any further mention of Rebecca Reid's disappearance. Grateful that he found none, he put the paper on the passenger seat and started the engine and headed out of the car park.

He drove to a scrap yard about fifteen miles from town to enquire if they had a headlight from an Isuzu Trooper. They had not but told him of Barnard Breakers, another yard a few miles further where they thought he may be lucky. When he reached the Barnard Breakers yard his hopes were raised when he read a sign proclaiming that they specialised in the salvage and breaking of all types of four-wheel-drive vehicles.

Pulling up just outside the yard he locked his car and sauntered through the gates towards the site office. A large, mean-looking Rottweiler lumbered towards him and he averted his gaze from the animal. The dog walked alongside him for a few paces, sniffing at his trouser leg before sloping off to crash out in the shade again. Entering the office he found an elderly man sitting at a desk regarding a computer monitor. With two arthritic fingers the old man tapped at the keyboard for a minute before he looked up.

"Yes Sir. What can I do for you?"

The man asked the elderly gentleman if they had a headlight in stock that would fit his Isuzu. The old man looked back at the screen and moved the mouse around. Then, tapping two-fingered on the keyboard, stopped and sucked on his teeth.

"Year?" he asked.

"2004," the man replied.

"What CC?"

"Three litre, diesel."

"Near-side or Off-side?"

"Near-side."

The old man chuckled to himself.

"You're in luck, Son. We have only the one in stock," he smiled.

The man breathed a sigh of relief.

"How much?" he asked.

"Eighteen pounds plus VAT."

The old man got up and walked to a door at the back of the office.

"TERRY!" He yelled, then walked back to the computer and tapped some keys. The printer on the counter burst into life. Taking the three-part invoice out of the printer he divided the copies, placing the top copy on the counter. The middle copy he put on his desk.

A minute later a young, spotty lad appeared. His oil-stained overalls looked about three sizes too big for him and his head stuck out of the collar like a scrawny tortoise.

"What's up Grandad?" He asked.

"Can you go to the store and fetch this for the gentleman please, Son?" The old man handed the bottom copy of the invoice to the youth who stared at it for a moment before sauntering back out through the same door.

Five minutes later the youth returned carrying the headlight encased in bubble wrap. He plonked it on the counter alongside the invoice.

"Card or cash?" asked the old man, hauling himself back out of his chair.

"Cash."

The man took out his wallet and handed the man twenty five pounds. The old man rummaged around in a box under the counter and handed the man his change. The big man thanked him and left the office carrying his headlight.

As soon as all the evidence was taken back to the lab, Andy Shaw went to his office, picked up the phone and dialled a number from memory.

The phone rang for a few minutes before it was answered.

"Hi, Jim? It's Andy. I'm really sorry to disturb you when you're on holiday but I have some evidence and I really wanted to know what I should do with it as it needs to be dealt with quickly."

"Hello Andy, that's all right Mate. What sort of evidence is it?"

"Larvae, taken from a body discovered this morning."

"Bugger, looks like I'm missing all the fun."

"It's no fun I can assure you. We've had a couple of abductions in the last week and the first girl has turned up dead. Looks as if she was strangled. I've only just got back from the crime scene so thought I'd better try to do something with these maggots quickly, as I know they could be vital to the evidence."

"Will be vital," Jim corrected him. "How many did you collect and how have you stored them?"

"About thirty odd. I have them in one of the screw cap evidence jars."

"Excellent. Right, it is essential that we arrest their growth now to preserve their integrity."

"How do I do that?"

"Bring some purified water to just below boiling point and immerse the larvae in the water for no longer than ten seconds. Then transfer them immediately to a solution of 80% Ethanol. This process will kill them but maintain their size and colour which is the critical thing."

Andy scribbled notes onto his pad as Jim advised on the correct procedure for handling the larvae.

"Look Andy, Jean and I are still at home, we've not gone away anywhere. We were just going out on odd days. Tell you what, you carry on and preserve them and I'll come down tomorrow and take a look at them. I can always take another day off in lieu."

"Jim, you're a star. I was wondering how we were going to handle these. Nobody else here knows anything about insects. I was going to ship it out to a specialist lab."

"Don't be daft lad. Why send it out? I'm more than happy to spend a few hours of my holiday examining them. See you later."

"Okay Jim, thanks."

Andy returned to the lab to prepare the larvae as instructed. Once done, he went over to the morgue to meet with Anita Graham the Forensic Pathologist. Anita and her assistant Faye Gosling were busy preparing everything they would need to start processing Rebecca Reid's body which, although removed from the body bag was still wrapped in the white sheeting and lying on a gurney to one side of the room.

"Just thought I'd pop by and make sure you girls have everything you need."

"Hello Andy. Yes thanks. We'll be ready to start our initial examination in about twenty minutes. Do you want to stay?"

"I'd love to but I have loads of stuff of my own to do I'm afraid. Stacks more evidence to sift through from this case and there was another girl abducted last evening so we have to process the evidence for that too. Got our work cut out, that's for sure."

"Any special requests?"

"No, just the usual. Anything you find on the body, if you can bag it and label it that would be great."

"We'll keep you posted if we find anything exciting. I'll try and have the report ready before we leave this evening," smiled Anita.

"Thanks, see you girls later."

Andy left the room and returned to Lab One where the rest of his team were busy preparing the evidence samples for analysis. The main laboratory was a big open-plan room with several workstations. Between the work stations were numerous fume cabinets, evidence drying cabinets and a latent print development chamber. In the centre of the room was a larger rectangular work bench covered with assorted equipment from centrifuges to microscopes and a large spectrophotometer. The size of the room was deceptive because so much of its space was taken up with computers, cabinets and the vast array of forensic equipment necessary for an effective laboratory. This was one of four laboratories at the facility, each one equipped for a specific purpose. Andy checked with each member of the team to make sure they knew exactly what they were doing and had access to the necessary equipment.

"Don't forget guys," he said, "don't be afraid to ask if you're not sure about something or want another opinion on something. We all need a second pair of eyes occasionally and it is essential that we catch everything there is to find."

He moved over to his own work bench and started looking through the evidence bags to see what he had. The evidence bags that Andy had selected contained the clothing scattered around the crime scene. Each sealable plastic bag was labelled with the case number and victims name together with a description of the evidence, the time, date and location of recovery, and the signature of the person recovering the evidence.

After completing the Chain of Custody Log, Andy opened the bag containing Rebecca Reid's sweatshirt. The workbench was covered by a large sheet of clean, white paper and he gently eased the sweatshirt out of the bag so that if anything fell from the garment it would land on the paper. Putting the shirt down on the bench he checked the bag to see if anything had been left behind. The first thing he noticed was a small bundle of plant material adhered to the sleeve of the shirt. Getting a small glass dish from the shelf above, he peeled the plant off using tweezers and placed it in the dish. He also noticed numerous seed-like pods stuck to the sweatshirt so removed these to another small dish. Next, laying the shirt flat on the bench, he adjusted a large illuminated magnifying glass fitted to an angled-poise arm clamped to the shelf above. Pressing the switch the lamp burst into life flooding the bench with light. Using the magnifying glass Andy examined every inch of the garment, stopping every now and then to collect fibres and other samples, whilst continuously keeping a log of finds and observations for his report.

Once he was happy that there was no more to find on the sweatshirt he placed it, together with the original evidence bag, into a fresh sealable evidence bag. This was duly labelled and the Chain of Custody Log completed. Putting the package into an evidence box he picked up the bag containing Rebecca's jogging pants and repeated the whole process.

Next, he turned his attentions to the items he had recovered from the clothing and moved to the central workbench so that he had use of the much larger and more powerful microscopes and equipment.

There were certain fibres which were of particular interest to him as they did not to belong to any of the clothing. Rebecca had been wearing light grey jogging pants, a light grey sweatshirt, a white bra and pink panties. She was still wearing her white sports socks. There were two types of fibre in particular that Andy had recovered from Rebecca's clothing, some were fine red fibres and others were thicker beige-coloured fibres. He decided to concentrate his efforts on identifying these first.

The following morning DCI Green called a meeting to get everybody up to date with the two cases and go through the evidence they had so far. He had also invited Andy Shaw along to explain some of the points in his latest report.

"Danny why don't you bring us up to speed on the Rebecca Reid case first and afterwards we can look at the Denise Foley case to see if we can shed any light on that one." Green asked.

"Yes Sir." Danny stood up and walked around the table where a large display board stood. Pinned to the display board were photographs of Rebecca Reid and Denise Foley, together with other photographs, maps and documents. To one side was a flip chart. Danny turned and looked at the twenty or so men and women in the room. "Well guys you all know Rebecca Reid's body was discovered in Barrington Woods early yesterday morning. She was found by Mike and Judith Robinson who were out walking their dogs. It seems that, after being abducted, Rebecca had been badly beaten and raped then strangled and her body then dumped into a gully. Her clothes were also recovered from around the area."

Jackson passed around the photographs of the crime scene while Warren was talking.

"This was the Secondary Crime Scene, the dumping ground. So far we have very little to go on in identifying her assailant so I'm hoping that Andy Shaw from the Crime Lab will have some good news for us. Andy would you like to elaborate a bit for us please?"

"Yes certainly. Good morning Ladies and Gentlemen." Andy started to hand out more detailed copies of the Crime Scene that Mickey had drawn. "As Danny pointed out, this is the Secondary Crime Scene. Miss Reid was murdered some place else and then her body was brought here to be dumped."

"How do you know that this was a secondary site?" DCI Green studied the photograph in his hand.

"Well, as you can see from the photographs of the Crime Scene, the area from the top of the gully down to where the body lay has been disturbed. The ferns and saplings have been flattened and in some cases broken down. This would indicate that the body was rolled down into the gully from the top. Secondly, her clothing was spread out over an area between the top of the gully and the body, suggesting that it was thrown down after the body. Thirdly, lividity in the body would also indicate that this was not the place where she was murdered."

"Andy," Green interrupted again. "For most of the people in this room, this is their first murder inquiry and we are not all up to speed with the relevant terminology. Could you just explain, in layman's terms, what lividity means please?"

"Certainly. Lividity is a discolouration in the body. After death blood ceases to circulate and gravity pulls it downwards so that it settles in the lowest parts of the body. When the body is in contact with a hard surface such as the ground, the blood will pool at the lowest point. This is noticeable after about 30 minutes but more pronounced after a few hours. In the case of Miss Reid we can see from the photographs that, although she is laying face down her shoulders, back and buttocks present a very dark purple, almost blue, discolouration suggesting that for several hours after her death Miss Reid had been laying on her back. Incidentally, under certain circumstances it is possible to tell how a person died through the lividity in the body. It most cases it is purple, in freezing or carbon monoxide-related deaths lividity will be cherry red and in cases of asphyxiation it is a darker almost blue colour, as in the case of Miss Reid."

"Thank you."

Andy nodded to the Inspector and continued.

"Miss Reid was strangled with what appears to be a shoelace from a trainer or sports shoe of some kind. Incidentally, her shoes were the only items of clothing not found at the crime scene."

"Do you think they could still be at the Primary Crime Scene?" one of the female detectives asked.

"That is certainly a possibility," Andy turned to look in her direction.

"I think it would be a good idea if we could get Miss Reid's parents to give us a description of the shoes she was wearing," DCI Green looked at Danny.

"I was just thinking that. If we can locate the shoes, we may find the murder site. Sorry Andy, carry on."

"Thanks. When the lace was removed from the victim's neck we discovered that a small length of gold chain was caught up in it. It is most probably from a necklace the victim was wearing that was snapped off as the murderer tightened the lace around her throat. The rest of the necklace was not recovered with the victim. I can also confirm that the victim was raped, rather roughly too. During the autopsy semen samples were recovered and these have been sent off for DNA testing."

"You recovered semen? I would have thought it would have been dead by now and any trace of it would have disappeared," DCI Green looked astonished.

"You'd be surprised, Sir," replied Andy. "Semen is a fairly resilient substance. Sperm usually die after about six hours. After that they begin to breakdown, losing their tails and leaving only the heads. In general, these seminal remnants may remain in the vagina for up to seven days, in the rectum for two to three days and in the mouth for twenty-four hours. There have been cases of rape-murder where sperm has been found in the victim's vagina two weeks after the assault. Dried semen stains can remain identifiable and, in fact, can be usable for DNA analysis for many years."

"Well I'll be damned. Well done Shaw."

"Thank you Sir. The next thing which may help identify the murder site is plant material found, not just on the victim's clothing but also in her hair and on the body. Apart from the seeds of a couple of different grasses and Dandelion seeds we also discovered several other types of seed and small clumps of plant material from the _Galium aparine_. You will probably all know it better as Sticky Willy. Yes, that lovely, highly sticky weed that we used to torment each other with as kids." Andy handed out a printout of a photograph of the plant that he had downloaded from the Internet. "It was once an incredibly valuable medicinal herb that can boost the immune system and cool fevers. Also used as a urinary astringent. Very popular in medieval times for stuffing mattresses hence it's other less popular name of Bedstraw. Find this and we find our murder scene. There is no sign of this plant or any of the seeds discovered on the body being resident at the discovery site."

"Excellent work, Andy. Is there anything else?"

"Just a couple of things that we are still working on. There were fibres found on the clothing and on the body that are at odds with what Miss Reid was wearing at the time of the attack. They are also not consistent with the cloth seats in her car or from her jacket. One fibre which we have identified as wool is long and fine. This has a red dye which we are currently trying to analyse to see if we can identify it. The other is a shorter, thicker fibre. It looks to be a man-made fabric, beige coloured, probably a type of carpeting."

"Could it be from the interior carpet of the murderer's car?" Jackson asked.

"That's certainly a possibility. Judging by the length of the fibre and its construction it would suggest it is very hard wearing. Lastly, most of you here will know Jim Forrester, one of our senior Forensic Scientists. Well, Jim is also a Forensic Entomologist and is turned on by bugs. When processing the body I discovered that the victim's nose and mouth were crawling with maggots."

A collective groan went up from all the people in the room.

"Don't groan," laughed Andy, "this is a good thing. Larvae are very useful to an investigation and can tell us a lot about the victim and possibly the time of death. Anyway, Jim has volunteered to give up a day of his annual leave and come in to process the little blighters today."

"That's good of him," Green remarked.

"Danny, if you want to pop down later I'll introduce you to him and we may have an update on the other evidence," suggested Andy.

"Cheers Andy. Right, has anybody got any questions for Andy or anything else regarding this case? No, right, moving on to the Denise Foley case. We have to try to move fast on this as thirty-six hours have already elapsed since she went missing and we have very little to go on." Danny nodded to Martin Jackson who handed around photocopies of the tyre impressions.

"Again, courtesy of our brilliant SOCOs, this is an impression of a car tyre found at the scene of Miss Foley's abduction. By the positioning of them in relation to Miss Foley's car we believe these impressions were made by the tyres of our perpetrator. Now, there are several similarities in both these cases. Both girls were about the same height and build and both had shoulder-length blond hair. There is the possibility that he is targeting girls with this appearance. Certain bits of evidence also indicate that the two abductions were carried out by the same person, the same person who went on to rape and murder Rebecca Reid. Our only hope is that we can find Denise Foley before she suffers the same fate."

They continued to discuss the cases, emerging an hour later to continue their investigations. Danny went to see Rebecca Reid's parents whilst Jackson tried to track down the type and make of tyre that made the impression.

Two hours later, Danny returned to the office in triumph. He went straight to his computer and after logging on, took a small digital camera from his jacket pocket. Taking a lead from his desk drawer he plugged the camera into a USB port on the front of the PC and brought up a series of images onto the screen.

"What are you looking so smug about?" asked Jackson.

"Well," grinned Warren, "Considering how grief-stricken the family are, Mrs Reid was an absolute star. She gave me a full description of Becky's trainers. Even found the box they came in. It had the serial and model numbers. I made a note, went to the shop where she bought them and spoke to the manager who took out an identical pair so I could photograph them. They are quite distinctive in white leather, not really trainers, more a fashion statement. If we can get the photograph in all the papers we can ask the public to keep an eye out. Oh, and Mrs Reid confirmed that Becky was wearing a gold necklace and has given me a photograph of her wearing it."

"DCI Green says there's going to be a Press Conference at three o'clock to break the news about finding the body. We've had the Press here for ages asking questions."

"Christ, they're like bloody vultures aren't they? It doesn't matter how hard you try to keep things quiet they always seem to find out about it. Still, could be useful. I could distribute the photos of the shoes and maybe get them in the morning's editions."

The three young boys burst out from the trees and raced each other down the undulating track. They loved riding their mountain bikes here because the land was so bumpy and churned up by the earth-movers and diggers that once trundled back and forth with their precious cargo of aggregates. The quarry had been in full swing up until the late 1970s when they hit an underground spring. The water started to fill the quarry pit faster than it could be pumped out and the decision was taken to close the quarry and move to another location a few miles away. The water continued to rise once the pumping stopped and the company had to move fast to remove all of the equipment. The remains of the giant stone crusher was still visible rising fifteen feet out of the water as it clung to one side of the quarry wall.

This was one of the boys' favourite places to come. Nobody else came here so they could do whatever they wanted and there was nobody to stop them. The weather had been great all over the Easter school holiday so far and today was no exception. They had set off from home over an hour ago and cycled steadily to get here. Once they had lifted their bikes over the gate and onto the track the race was on. The last one to the slip road was a Muppet.

The three friends hurtled towards the quarry, yelling and laughing as they raced. James was the first to get there a couple of seconds ahead of Robby. Sean, the smallest and youngest of the three was last, as usual. His two friends teased him mercilessly as they stood astride their bikes. Removing his rucksack, Robby opened it and took out a bottle of water. After a couple of hearty gulps he handed the bottle to his little brother. Sean quenched his thirst before passing the bottle to James.

"God, I needed that," said James handing the bottle back to his friend. "Come on you two, let's go."

"Don't go too fast," pleaded Sean, "you know I can't keep up."

"But that's the whole point," laughed Robby. "Come on Muppet."

At twelve years of age Robby was three years older than his little brother so did his best to look out for Sean without losing too much face to his best friend James.

With a lot of cheering and yelling the three boys set off down the steep slip road that curved its way down the side of the quarry. Just before the road disappeared into the blue-green water they steered left onto a levelled out area of land, a ledge on which had once stood a couple of site offices. The buildings had long since disappeared but the concrete bases on which they stood were still there. Laying down their bikes the lads removed their rucksacks and pulled off their shirts.

"Let's go skinny dipping," laughed Robby.

"Yeah," the other boys chorused.

Laughing and singing they slid out of their shorts and ran squealing towards the edge before jumping naked into the water. The shock of the water made them squeal even louder. No matter how often they came here the temperature of the water always took them by surprise. They splashed around in the cool water chasing and dunking each other and generally relaxing after their long ride to get there. After a while Sean started to wade out up the slope of the slip road.

"Hey Seanie, where are you going?" called his brother.

"I need a wee," he replied.

"Why don't you do it in the water," laughed James, "I just did."

Robby howled with laughter at his friend.

"I can't, it's not right," said Sean as he exited the water. The small stones in the rough ground hurt his bare feet as he hurried towards a large clump of bushes at the far end of the ledge. Robby and James continued their games as Sean disappeared into the undergrowth to relieve himself.

The sun beat down on the back of his head as Sean urinated on a snail that was clinging to a rock a couple of feet away. He heard the harsh cry of a bird overhead and looked up to see a buzzard being chased by two large crows. He watched the birds as they turned and twisted in the air, the huge bird of prey deftly manoeuvring to avoid the attacks from the two birds defending their territory.

As he looked back down something caught his eye away off to the left. Turning his head he went up on tip toe to get a better look over the bushes. It was a woman, she was lying on the rocks about fifty feet away, and what's more she was naked. He ducked quickly behind the bush again before she saw him. Very slowly he raised his head back up to have another look. She had not moved and looked to be asleep. As quickly as he could he stumbled back to his friends.

The two boys turned and jeered as Sean came running up to the waters edge covering his genitals with both hands.

"No need to be embarrassed," shouted James, "We've already seen it and it's not much to look at."

They guffawed with laughter.

"Shhhh!! Come here quick," Sean waved them closer with one hand.

Robby saw the concern in his little brother's face and swam towards the edge.

"What's up Seanie? What's happened?"

"There's a lady the other side of those bushes and she's got no clothes on. I think she's asleep."

"No way! Come on, let's take a look," suggested James who was already halfway out of the water.

Robby climbed out behind him and all three ran over to their belongings and hurriedly pulled on their shorts. Then, still dripping water as they went, they followed Sean into the bushes. Hunched over and as quietly as they could, the three lads wormed their way deeper into the thicket.

"Where abouts is she?" asked James.

"Just look over the bush," whispered Sean, "she should be right in front of you."

James slowly stood up so he could see over the top of the bush. Being much taller than Sean he didn't need to stand on tip toe. As he caught site of the woman his mouth fell open.

"He's right," he whispered, "She's got no clothes on. And I can see her boobies and everything!"

"Where? Let me see," Robby wasn't going to pass up the chance of seeing a naked woman either.

Gazing over the bushes he gasped as his eyes fell on her. She lay on the rocks just as Sean had said but she did not look as if she was in a very comfortable position. She was face up with her back arched over the boulder, her head turned away from them so her face could not be seen. As he studied the woman Robby's expression changed from one of wonderment to one of puzzlement.

"She seems a funny colour," he observed.

James tilted his head to one side and considered the naked woman before him.

"Maybe she's foreign," he suggested.

"I don't know. She just looks too pale to me. And another thing, how can she still be asleep? She must have heard all the noise we were making."

"Maybe she's listening to an iPod or something," said James.

"Maybe she's dead," suggested Sean. The two older boys turned and looked down at him.

"Don't be daft," said James.

"Only one way the find out," said Robby bending down and picking up a rock. He hurled it in the direction of the woman and it smashed to pieces about twenty feet away from her. The woman never moved a muscle.

"HELLO?" Shouted Robby.

"Shhhhh! What do you think you're doing," James grabbed his arm and pulled him down below the top of the bushes.

"I'm trying to see if she's all right," said Robby standing back up.

"Hello," he called again, "Are you okay Miss?"

Still there was no response from the woman.

"I think there's definitely something wrong," said Robby, "I'm going to find out if she's all right."

"Wait, you can't . . ." James stood open-mouthed as Robby pushed his way through the bushes, the small branches scratching his chest and back as he went. The boy emerged on the other side and, about ten feet further on, the ledge came to an end. The area around the edge of the quarry was strewn with large boulders for about one hundred yards from this point. The wall of the quarry rose sheer above him for about seventy or eighty feet. Robby assumed, quite rightly, that this area was where the quarrymen stored the boulders before putting them into the giant stone crusher. Slowly he started to pick his way over the boulders towards the young woman. When he was half way he stopped, cleared his throat and called out.

"Hello? Are you okay Miss?"

Receiving no response he was just about to continue forward when he heard a noise behind him and looked back to see James, closely followed by Sean, picking their way towards him. He waited until they had caught up.

"Do you think she's okay?" asked Sean.

"No, something's definitely wrong," Robby replied. "Come on."

A few yards further on the boys came across a pair of ladies jeans and a shoe.

At last they were within just a few feet of the girl. They could see that she was totally naked. None of the boys wanted to look but they couldn't help it, none of them had ever seen a naked woman in the flesh before.

"She really is a funny colour," remarked James.

"Yeah, I don't think she's asleep," said Robby.

He picked his way up across the rocks behind the girl's head so that he could get down on the other side of her. Looking ahead Robby saw a sweater with a shirt still inside it lying on the boulders. It looked as if they had been pulled off together. He was concentrating on watching where he was putting his feet so was in position before he looked at her. As his eyes fell on her distorted face and the blood-stained rocks. He gasped and stepped back involuntarily, losing his balance and falling on to the rocks behind him. His reaction startled the two other boys and Sean grasped James's hand tightly and whimpered.

"Oh God," exclaimed Robby as he scrambled back to his feet.

"What's up?" asked James.

"I think Sean was right, I think she's dead. Her face is cover with blood and there's something around her neck."

James looked up at the sheer side of the cliff looming over them.

"Maybe she fell off the top," he suggested.

Sean began to sob quietly. Robby looked at his little brother and a lump rose in his throat.

"I think we had better go and get help," he croaked.

The Press Conference had gone fairly well. They had disclosed that a body, believed to that of the missing girl Rebecca Reid, had been found in Barrington Woods. They also confirmed that the victim had been raped and murdered by strangulation. They did not, however, disclose any of the evidence they had found so far. Danny Warren had produced the photograph of the trainers and asked if an appeal could be made to the public to keep an eye out for them.

Following the Press Conference Danny took the lift down to the basement and went in search of Andy Shaw. Shaw was in his office typing up a report on his computer. He looked up as Danny knocked on the open door.

"Hi Mate, come in. Coffee?"

"Yes please."

"How'd your meeting with the Gentlemen of the Press go?" asked Shaw as he poured two mugs of coffee.

"Okay, I guess. I'm always a little uneasy about giving the newspapers any kind of information."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, take these trainers for example. On the one hand we want the public's help to try to find where they might be, but on the other hand, if the murderer reads about it and realises he left them behind, he may go back and dispose of the evidence."

"That's always going to be a risk you'll have to take I'm afraid. Maybe the killer will go back for them and maybe he won't. He may think that we've found them and have put it in the paper in order to trick him into returning to the murder scene so we can nab him."

"Huh! I never thought of that."

"Come on," said Andy getting to his feet, "bring your coffee. Oh, I'd better pour another one."

"Where are we going?"

"There's someone I want to introduce you to." Shaw poured another cup of coffee and left the office followed by Danny. They walked along a brightly-lit corridor, past doors leading to a couple of the labs. At last they came to another door with a brass plate announcing Lab 3 screwed to it.

"Get that would you? I've got my hands full."

Danny opened the door to a small office similar to Shaw's. He stood back to allow Andy to enter first, then following him into the empty room.

"JIM?" called Andy.

"In here," a voice called from another room.

They went through a door at the back of the office and emerged inside a small laboratory. Danny looked around at the vast array of equipment packed into the room. At a workbench on the other side a late-middle-aged man wearing a white lab coat was peering into a microscope whilst perched on a stool.

"Coffee?"

"Ooh, lovely, thanks." The man sat up and turned around. Seeing the two men he slid his spectacles down from his forehead and onto his nose.

"Jim, there's someone I'd like you to meet. Detective Sergeant Danny Warren, Jim Forrester."

Danny walked forward and held out his hand. The man shook it firmly as Andy put their coffees on the workbench.

"Pleased to meet you," Jim said.

"Jim is one of our most senior Forensic Scientists," said Andy.

"More senior in age than rank though I'm afraid," laughed Forrester.

"As well as being one of the best forensic investigators in the country Jim is also the only Forensic Entomologist in the West Country at the moment, and a bloody brilliant one at that."

"Ah, you're the guy who knows all about insects?" said Danny.

"Correct," laughed Andy, "If you want to know anything about bugs, Jim's your man."

"Just a little hobby of mine," said Jim modestly. "A lot of people scoff at the thought of insects bringing vital evidence to an investigation."

"I think it could be that the study of insects as evidence is quite a modern practice, isn't it?" asked Danny.

"Not in the least," replied Forrester. "The first successful use of entomological evidence being used in the UK was in 1935 in Scotland. It was in a similar case to yours too. Two bodies were dumped in a ravine, the bodies being identified as the wife and housemaid of a Dr Ruxton from Lancaster. They found larvae on the bodies which led to the conviction of Dr Ruxton and he was subsequently hanged for murder."

"I told you about the larvae we found on the body," said Andy, "well Jim is processing them now."

"Yes that's right, you've come in on one of your holidays haven't you? We really do appreciate it."

"Quite all right Dear Boy. I'd probably only have read the paper and fallen asleep in an armchair anyway," Forrester laughed and sat back on the stool. "Want to take a look for yourself?"

Danny stepped forward and Jim tapped the keyboard of his computer. Within a few seconds the computer screen displayed a group of maggots.

"What we have here," Forrester adjusted the focus on the microscope, "are the larvae of the _Calliphora vicina_ otherwise known as the Blowfly or common or garden Bluebottle. Bluebottles have a finely-tuned sense of smell and will generally alight on a dead body within just a few hours. Decomposition of a body usually starts within two to four hours of death. The Bluebottle is attracted to the decomposing remains and as soon as it arrives it lays its eggs so the larvae can feed. Now, here's the fun part. Because the larvae grow at a determined rate, by measuring the size of the larvae, it is possible to tell its exact age and therefore when it was laid. Thus, you have time of death to within four to six hours."

"That's incredible," enthused Danny. "So can we tell exactly when this girl was murdered?"

"We certainly can. I would estimate that she probably died approximately 84 hours ago, give or take a few hours."

Danny did a quick calculation in his head.

"That means she was murdered the same evening as she was abducted."

"Unfortunately, I would have to agree with that."

Danny looked over at Andy Shaw leaning on the bench.

"That means that Denise Foley is almost certainly dead already then."

Shaw's phone rang within a few seconds of Danny's phone ringing. They looked at each other and answered their calls. When the calls were over Danny let out a big sigh.

"Looks like I spoke too soon," he said.

Andy turned to Jim Forrester who sat looking concerned.

"We've going to have to leave you to it Jim. It looks like they've found another body," he explained.

The man was so absorbed in what he was doing that he did not hear his neighbour as he approached up the drive.

"Evening Matt."

"Oh, shit. Sorry . . . Evening Malcolm."

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. Just putting my bins out and saw you hard at it. Came across to see if you needed a hand."

"No . . . thanks anyway," replied Matt. "I've got this covered."

"What happened?"

"Nothing. Just a stone chip. I was following a truck and a rock came up and smashed the lens, that's all. Got another one from a scrapper."

Malcolm looked at the broken lens laying on the drive.

"Could have been worse, could have come through the windscreen," he laughed. "Well if you're sure you can manage."

"Yeah, thanks. I've almost finished."

Malcolm bid his neighbour goodnight and strolled back to his own property. The man watched him as Malcolm disappeared around the side of his house.

"Nosey bastard," he muttered.

Matthew Jarvis went back to his task of changing his headlight. He was in a bad mood. Partly because he had missed his opportunity when he had seen the girl in town and partly because he had allowed that idiot of a neighbour to see what he was doing. He should have pulled the car into the garage and changed the headlamp there but it was only a ten minute job. He finished screwing the lamp in place, plugged in the bulb and tested it to make sure it was working properly. Satisfied with the job he picked up the old headlight unit and dumped it in the bin beside the workbench in his garage.

After he had put his tools away, shut the garage door and washed his hands, he fixed himself something to eat and went into the lounge carrying his food on a tray. He sat down, pressed the TV remote to turn the set on and sat back in the settee. Five minutes after he started watching the television the BBC News came on. After the usual drivel about what went on in Parliament and the on-going problems in the Middle East, the main news eventually gave way to the Regional News bulletin. He stopped mid-bite and stared at the TV as the programme led with the report on the discovery of Rebecca Reid's body. Using the remote he turned up the volume slightly so he didn't miss anything.

His bad mood increased as he listened to the reporter outlining the murder. How Rebecca Reid had been ambushed in her car and how she had been raped and strangled. He was pissed off that she had been discovered so quickly but was confident that there would be very little in the way of evidence. The bulletin did not go into any evidence found, in fact they stated that the police had very little to go on and were appealing for help from the public. The image on the screen changed from a close up of the murdered girl to a photograph of a pair of trainers.

". _. . Police are appealing to the public to be on the lookout for a pair of trainers exactly the same as those worn by the murder victim. They were not among the items of clothing recovered at the crime scene and police believe they could hold vital clues. The designer shoes, made by Lorenzo Baccus, are white leather and have the distinctive black cat logo on the inner sole. Anyone finding them is asked to ring the Police Incident Line which is shown at the bottom of your screen._

_Police have stepped up the search for another missing girl, twenty-four year old Denise Foley who disappeared on Monday evening. Authorities believe her disappearance may be linked to the same person and fears are increasing for her safety . . ._ "

Jarvis pushed his tray to one side, all of a sudden he was no longer hungry. He thought back to the crime and vaguely remembered tossing one of the shoes on the ground behind the toilet block. He couldn't remember what he had done with the other one though. Now he was really agitated, he would have to go to the park and retrieve them before someone found them and went to the police. He couldn't go now though, it was too light, it would have to wait until later.

It seemed like an eternity for Jarvis as he waited for it to get dark. The nearer it got to summer the longer the hours of daylight. At just before midnight he went to his garage and retrieved his torch then, pulling on a light jacket, he left the house and climbed into his car.

It did not take long for him to reach the park and he was soon pulling up once more alongside the toilet block. Without the caution he had shown on his previous visits he hurried over to the small building. His torch shone brilliant in the darkness but after a full ten minutes of searching he had still not located the shoe. He stopped and thought for a few moments, trying to go over that evening's events in his mind. He was sure he had thrown one of the shoes here, but he couldn't have. Maybe he had imagined it. He decided that he must have left them both in the bushes.

Battling his way through the undergrowth, in his confusion, Jarvis could not find the exact spot where he had taken the girl. It was strange that when he had returned the first time to retrieve the body he had found it straight away with no trouble. Now, it was as if he was in another part of the park. The darkness and his mounting frustration were making it more difficult. He crashed through the bushes shining his torch here and there but could not see anything that looked even vaguely familiar. Eventually, Jarvis decided to call it a night, he was fed upas he had been searching for nearly an hour. He reasoned that if he couldn't find it then in all probability nobody else would be able to.

Fighting his way back through the undergrowth, after another quick look around the outside of the toilet block, Jarvis climbed into his car and went home. He decided to return the following evening when he was a little calmer and have another look for the trainers.

Danny Warren and Martin Jackson were in DCI Green's office drinking coffee and discussing recent events. It was late in the evening and they were all very weary. It had turned out to be a very eventful day.

"I think those lads did really well," commented Jackson. "It must have been very traumatic for them."

"I take it you have statements from each of them and the mother?" asked Green.

"Yes Sir," said Danny. "I felt sorry for the little lad, Sean. He was really upset by it. It was him who found her in the first place."

"So how did they report it?"

"They weren't sure what they should do at first. They didn't want to get into any trouble you see, they knew they were not supposed to be playing in the old quarry because it was dangerous. They decided to cycle home and tell their mother."

"But don't they live ten miles or so from the quarry?"

"That's right Sir."

"So they wasted a good hour?"

"Well at least they did report it, Sir. It must have taken a lot of courage for them."

"I bet the poor little buggers have nightmares for weeks after that," remarked Jackson.

"Maybe we can get Social Services to arrange some sort of counselling for them," suggested Warren.

"Let's sort that out in the morning," suggested DCI Green. "Anything new from your friend Shaw yet?"

"Not yet, Sir." Danny sighed. "I spoke to him just as they returned this evening but all he could confirm was that it was almost certainly Denise Foley. She too had been strangled and it looked as if she had been thrown over the edge of the cliff after she was dead. He was going to come in early in the morning and make a start on processing the evidence."

"That sounds like a plan," said Green getting to his feet. "Come on lads, it's been a bloody long day and, I don't know about you but, I'm done in. Let's call it a day and we'll have a catch up tomorrow. Okay?"

"That's the best suggestion I've heard all day," laughed Jackson.

"If I call another briefing for about eleven tomorrow morning that should give you time to chat to Shaw and maybe get some more information Danny."

"Yes Sir. Goodnight Sir, see you tomorrow."

"Good night lads."

The two detectives left DCI Green's office and, after they had collected their personal belongings, said their goodbyes and went their separate ways.

The following day as Danny sat at his desk making a list of all the scrap yards and breakers yards in the area his telephone rang.

"Danny? It's Andy. I have some news. I can confirm that the two cases are definitely linked and the same person carried out both murders."

"How come?" he asked.

"The cord that Denise Foley was strangled with was not just any old cord, it was a shoe lace."

"What?"

"Yep, not only that, but it is an exact match to the one found around Rebecca Reid's neck. He must have taken it from her other shoe and used it as the murder weapon for Miss Foley."

"Jesus Christ. What kind of person are we dealing with here?"

"I have some other stuff to show you if you want to pop down."

"I'll be right there."

In less than ten minutes Danny and Andy Shaw entered the Pathology Laboratory. Denise Foley's body lay on the examination table, covered with a white sheet. A tall attractive woman in her mid fifties was loading instruments into a sterilisation tank. She turned and smiled as they entered.

"Hi Anita, I'd like you to meet Danny Warren. Danny is the lead detective in this case. Danny, Anita Graham."

Danny shook the woman's hand.

"Pleased to meet you," he smiled.

"Anita, would you be kind enough to quickly run through what you found for Danny please?" asked Andy.

"Certainly, it will all be in my report in greater detail of course but I'd be happy to quickly go over the most interesting points."

Taking the sheet in both hands she folded it back to just below the dead girl's navel. Danny felt his stomach tighten as his eyes fell on the naked torso of the young woman. He face was swollen and almost black where she had been so severely beaten. There was a gash about three inches long across the left side of her forehead. The ligature had been removed from around her neck so the strangulation marks were clearly visible on her throat.

"Miss Foley had been raped and murdered just like the other girl. It seems she tried to put up a bit of a struggle. We found skin samples under her finger nails. They have been sent off for DNA testing along with the semen samples." Anita lifted the girl's arm to show a nasty gash, surrounded by extensive bruising, on the inside of her forearm. "The gash together with the amount of blood found on the rocks on which she was laying leads me to believe that it was as a result of her body landing on the rocks. The blood and the bruising can only mean one thing."

"What's that?" asked Danny puzzled.

"Miss Foley was alive when she hit the rocks."

"Jesus Christ!"

"The strangulation did not kill her it probably only cut off her air supply rendering her unconscious. The killer, thinking she was dead, threw her off the cliff onto the rocks where she died from multiple injuries and blood loss."

"Bloody hell. The poor kid."

"I have something else to show you too which might help find our killer," said Anita.

She pulled the girls hair away from her right shoulder revealing a circular pattern of red marks.

"It looks as if our man is a biter," she stated.

Danny looked closer and could see the distinct shape of the teeth marks in the girl's flesh.

"We've already taken photographs," said Andy. "We may be able to check these against dental records or compare them to any suspects to see if we can get a match."

Danny returned to his office, his head swimming with the new revelations he had just heard. Jackson looked at him as he sat down.

"What's up Doc?"

"Denise Foley was alive when he threw her off the cliff onto the rocks," replied Danny.

"Jesus! So she wasn't strangled then?"

"She was but she did not die from strangulation. Not only that but she had bite marks on her."

"Christ, this guy is a real piece of work."

Danny put his head in his hands.

"On a brighter note, I have a match on the tyres," said Jackson.

"Really?"

"Yes, they are manufactured in the Czech Republic and under the name of Fontana. There is only one importer for Fontana tyres in the UK, Dormont-Wilson, based in Reading. I gave then a ring and they told me that the tyres are distributed across England but only available in eighteen outlets, four of them in the West Country. I'm going to ring around and see if any were sold in this area in the last twelve months."

"Well done. The fact that they are only a small distributor will hopefully narrow it down a bit for us."

Danny was just bringing Martin up to speed on the latest findings of the forensic team when one of the female officers approached his desk.

"Danny, sorry to interrupt."

"No problems Sue, what can I do for you?"

"I just had a call from a Mrs Clark," Sue checked her notes. "Apparently, her son thinks he might have found one of Rebecca Reid's missing trainers."

"Excellent, where is it?"

"Culverson Park."

Once Sue had given them all the information she had they grabbed their jackets and headed off to the country park.

As they turned into the entrance to the Park a lady and a young boy of about twelve were there waiting for them. Danny wound down his window as they approached.

"Mrs Clark?"

"Yes, this is my son, Philip. He saw the trainer on the TV news and said that he had seen one of them when he and his friends were playing here."

"Hi Philip, have you got the trainer?"

"No, it's still there," the boy relied.

"Okay, can you show us exactly where you found the trainer?"

"Yes, it's right down there," he pointed into the park.

"We'll follow you," Danny looked at Mrs Clark.

The woman nodded then she and the young boy got into a small car and headed slowly into the park, Danny and Martin following close behind. At last they came to a small concrete building and Danny pulled to a halt in almost the exact spot that Matthew Jarvis had stopped in a few nights earlier. Getting out of the vehicles Danny looked around.

"Okay Philip, can you show me exactly where you found the trainer?"

"Over there," the boy pointed to the rear of the building. "Tim and I were playing around here. I hid behind the toilet and stepped on it. I saw it on the telly last night and knew it was the same one."

"Okay, wait here."

Danny walked carefully behind the building so as not to disturb any evidence. Looking around he could not see any sign of the girl's shoe.

"Okay Philip," he called, "where abouts is it?"

"I threw it on the roof," the boy replied.

Danny let out a long sigh and looked at his partner. Martin struggled to stifle a laugh as he walked towards Danny.

"You want a boost up?" he asked.

Martin stood with his back to the building and cupped his hands in front of him. Danny grabbed his shoulders and placed one foot into Martin's cupped hands. With an effort he boosted himself up so he could see over the edge of the flat roof.

"I can see it," he said. "Trouble is I can't reach it."

Mrs Clark and her son looked on impassively.

"Philip," called Danny, "can you find me a good stick about three feet long please Mate?"

The boy ran into the bushes and emerged a couple of minutes later carrying a suitable branch.

"Perfect, thanks Buddy."

Danny took the stick from the boy and reached over the edge of the roof. The shoe was lying on its side and luckily, the top was facing him. Danny eased the stick into the open top of the trainer and carefully lifted it up. He pulled the branch slowly towards him until the shoe was close enough for him to reach. Dropping the stick and sliding his fingers inside the shoe, Danny picked up the trainer and waved it in the air.

"Got it," he called triumphantly.

"Thank God for that," Martin gave a big sigh of relief as Danny climbed down onto the grass again.

Carrying the shoe over to his car, Danny reached in and took a large evidence bag off the back seat. Dropping the trainer into it he turned back to Mrs Clark.

"Is it the girl's trainer?" asked Mrs Clark.

Danny held the bag up and looked closely at the shoe.

"Well, it certainly looks like it could be," he acknowledged. "Thank you so much for your help. We will send an officer round in a short while to take a statement from you and your son, if that's okay?"

Mrs Clark bid them good day, then she and Philip got back in their car and drove off. Danny watched them go then turned back to Martin.

"You start taping off the area and I'll call this in. We'd better get the forensics guys out here pronto. We may have found our murder scene."

By the time the Scene of Crimes team got there a large area surrounding the toilet block had been taped off and Danny and Martin had made sure that the small group of onlookers were kept well back from the area.

For several hours the forensics team and a number of other officers searched the area around the toilet block and into the overgrown area behind. As one of the teams entered a small clearing amongst the bushes, something glinting in the bright sunlight caught the eye of one of the officers. Bending down for a closer look she saw it was a necklace.

"Sir," she called out, "I think I've found something."

One of the forensics team walked carefully over to where the officer was pointing. After taking a couple of photographs, he lifted the necklace up with his gloved hand and dropped it into an evidence bag. He took a small radio from his pocket, pressed the button on the side and spoke into it. Within two minutes they were joined by Andy Shaw.

"What have you got Mickey?"

The young man held up the bag for Shaw to see. A big grin appeared on Shaw's face as he recognised the necklace. Looking around the area one of the first things he saw was the profusion of Stick Willy plants in the clearing.

"Looks as if we may have found our murder scene," he grinned. "Right, I want everybody out of this area now please."

The police officers did as requested and Shaw called the rest of his team to join him. They divided the area up into a grid and set about searching for further evidence.

Matthew Jarvis saw the police cars at the entrance to the country park and carried on driving past. He had decided to go back in daylight to have another look for the trainers but it seemed as if he may have been too late, the police had beaten him to it.

"Damn!" He thumped the steering wheel hard with the ball of his hand."

His mind raced as he thought back to the events of that night, trying to remember if there was anything other than the shoes that he might have left behind. Running over the murder in his mind Jarvis was pretty sure that he had covered all his tracks. Forgetting the shoes when he went back to move the body was a stupid mistake. A mistake that he would ensure he didn't make again. He needed to take a drive to think what he was going to do next. Turning left at the next junction he headed out into the countryside.

As he drove he thought about his wife and children. Sometimes the distinction between love and hate was blurred. Although he was angry with his wife and wanted so badly to beat the crap out of her, he knew that deep down he still loved her. He wanted her back and he wanted his boys even more. His marriage had always been a bit of a tormented affair. Most of the time Linda had been a good wife and mother and had only needed putting in her place occasionally. Most of the time she did as she was told and looked after him and the boys very well. Over the last few months she had been a lot more outspoken and tried to stand up to him more so he had had to be firmer with her to make her toe the line. He had enough on his plate after losing his job at the construction company where he had worked as a labourer for eight years, without having to put up with her constant whining. It was when he had hit Elliot that she had decided enough was enough. He knew he shouldn't have hit the boy, but he couldn't stand the kid bleating on about wanting an X-Box any longer. They were living on his small redundancy payout and the money that Linda brought in from her job at the launderette, they had enough to get by on but that was it. Besides, the new tyres and alloys he had bought for his truck had cost nearly a thousand pounds. That took up a large chunk of his redundancy money, so how was he supposed to be able to afford an X-Box?

Linda had gone mad when he hit the child. She had shouted at him and accused him of having his priorities all wrong, so he had given her a fat lip for mouthing off at him. The next day Jarvis had returned from the bookmaker to find that she and the kids had moved out. She had waited until he was out of the house and then packed up their stuff and cleared off.

He had no idea where she was, he had rung her mother but the cow had hung up as soon as she realised who it was. He didn't think that she was at her mother's anyway as she lived up north. Linda's sister lived in Australia so that ruled her out. There was nowhere else he could think of where she might be. One occasion he had gone to the launderette but the vicious old bitch who called herself a manager had said that Linda had quit her job. She also told him to go to hell or she would call the police. Jarvis had told her in no uncertain terms what he thought of her and left. He desperately wanted to talk to Linda, tell her he was sorry for hitting Elliot. He knew that if he could just explain to her about the pressure he was under she would understand and come home.

Jarvis had to find out where his wife was living so that he could speak to her. He had received two letters so far one that had come from Linda, with a Bristol postmark, telling him that she was going to divorce him and would be seeking custody of the children and another from some stuck up solicitor in Bristol, telling him that if he continued to try to make contact with her or the children she would have no alternative but to take out a restraining order against him. Jarvis knew that this was bull shit, she would never do that in a million years.

He pulled the car to a halt in a lay-by and sat thinking, staring out into the fields. Half an hour later he started the engine again, he knew what he had to do to make things right. Putting the car in gear he pulled back onto the tarmac and headed for home.

Terry and Helen Oldman sat down on the grass, their backs against an old dry stone wall, and took in the view. They loved it up on the Mendips and today, being especially beautiful made the views all the more stunning. Opening his backpack, Terry took out two cans of Pepsi and handed one to his wife. Helen studied the map carefully.

"I can't believe we've walked all this way," she smiled. "No wonder my knees are beginning to ache."

Walking was one of their favourite pastimes and they would get out onto the Mendips whenever the opportunity arose. So far that day they had walked about six miles since leaving the car in the pub car park.

"By my reckoning," said Terry, taking the map from her, "the road is about another half a mile once we are on the other side of this hill. If we follow that, it should take us right back to the pub where we left the car. Another three or four miles at the most I should think."

Helen pulled a sandwich box from her pack and prised off the lid. They sat in the sun for about twenty minutes eating their lunch. Once they were finished, they stowed everything away, struggled back into their backpacks and set off once more.

Just as the Oldmans were coming over the brow of the hill Jarvis's car came down the road. He was not taking much notice of anything in particular as he drove along the deserted road, until something caught his eye up ahead.

She was sitting on a stile built into the fence that ran along the side of the road, talking into a mobile phone. Her car was parked five yards away in the lay-by. It was not the car that caught his eye but her shoulder-length blonde hair. His immediate thoughts were of his wife. He passed the girl and looked back at her in his rear-view mirror. He looked at the road ahead and behind but saw no other cars. After a few hundred yards he turned the car around in the entrance to a field and went back in the opposite direction. The girl was still there, so engrossed in her conversation that she did not even look up as he drove by. Half a mile further on, he turned the car around again and headed back. As he approached the lay-by he looked up and down the road once more to ensure there was nobody else about. Slowing up Jarvis pulled off the road and started to brake. He was only travelling at about five miles an hour when he hit the back of the girl's car. She looked up in astonishment as she heard the noise of the collision. Sliding off her perch on the stile she said something into the phone and hung up the call. He started to get out of the car as he saw her approaching in his wing mirror.

" _Kurwa idiota_!" she screeched. "What you do that for? Can't you not see where you going?"

He came around the back of his car as she bent to inspect the damage to her car.

"I'm sorry, must have misjudged it."

" _Szaleniec_! Look at car," she shouted. "It is hire car, now I have all big problem. You should not be on road. _Trzeba nauczyc się jezdzić_."

She stood up and turned as he approached and started to walk towards him, shouting and screaming abuse, mostly in a language he did not understand. He had not prepared himself for any kind of resistance and for a second it threw him off guard. Then, reaching into his back pocket he swung his arm around and hit her square on the forehead with his home-made cosh. The girl stumbled sideways and crashed into the passenger door of his car, blood pouring from the wound on her head. He raised his arm and was about to strike her again when he heard a shout.

"Oi! What the bloody hell do you think you are doing?"

He turned and looked in the direction of the voice. A man and a woman were running across the field in the direction of the road. Suddenly his flight instinct kicked in and he ran back around to the driver's side of his car, jumped in and slammed the vehicle into reverse. The big engine roared as the car shot back a few feet before leaping forward onto the road and tearing off at high speed. Jarvis was a hundred yards down the road before Terry and Helen Oldman reached the stile.

Terry vaulted over the fence and rushed to the girl's side, she was still conscious but very dazed. Whilst he tried to stem the bleeding with his handkerchief, Helen pulled her mobile phone from her backpack and called the police.

"It's all right Sweetheart," reassured Terry. "He's gone now."

" _Zadzwonić na Policję_."

"What?"

"Call police," she repeated in English.

"My wife is calling them now, they are on their way."

"Madman," she cried. "He smash into car, then hit me in face. _Pieprzony draniu_!"

Terry looked up as his wife hung up the call and came over to them.

"The police and an ambulance are on their way," she said.

"What's your name Sweetheart?" asked Terry as he comforted the young woman.

"Marta," she replied. "Marta Rinikova."

"Well don't worry Marta. The Police will be here very soon and a paramedic to check out your head injury."

They stayed with the girl until the emergency services arrived. The paramedics and a police officer took the girl into the ambulance to attend to her wound and ask her about the attack whilst the other police officer questioned the couple about what had happened.

"Did you get a good look at the attacker?" asked the officer.

"Not really, we were a bit too far away," said Terry. "Apart from the fact that he was heavily built and had dark hair."

"Fairly tall I would have said," added Helen.

"What about the vehicle?" asked the officer.

"Some kind of off-roader by the look of it and looked as if it had something along the roof at the front. Lights most probably."

"Colour?" asked the officer writing hurriedly in his notebook.

"Green."

"I would have said it was more of a sort of brown colour," corrected Helen.

"Well greeny-brown then," said Terry.

"Have you any idea what make of car it was?"

"No idea. But it was big, a long-wheel based one with a big engine by the sounds of it."

Helen shook her head and shrugged.

"Oh, and the windows at the back end of the car were blacked out," added Terry.

The police officer continued to question the couple for a while and then joined his colleague by the ambulance.

"You know what I think Ed?"

"What?"

"I think it was the same bloke who kidnapped and raped the other two girls."

"But he takes them at night, not in broad daylight."

"Maybe he changed his pattern. In both the other cases he rams into the back of the car and bundles them into his car when they get out to have a look at the damage. That's more or less what happened here."

"Hmm. You may be right Chalky."

"I'm sure of it, from what the couple told me the guy just hit her with something for no reason."

The officers returned to their patrol car and, after speaking into the radio for a few minutes, PC Chalker walked back to the Helen and Terry Oldman who were sitting down on the grass verge.

"Mr and Mrs Oldman, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to stay here for a bit longer. There are a couple of detectives on their way here who would also like to ask you some questions. If you like, when they are finished we will give you a lift back to your car."

"That's very kind of you Officer," smiled Helen, not relishing the walk back after all this excitement.

"Do you think that this attack is linked to the kidnapping of those other poor girls Officer?" asked Terry Oldman.

"Why do you ask?" Chalky was surprised at the question.

"Well it's just that I read that in both cases the attacked had run into the back of the girls' cars. That's exactly what this bloke did."

"It's possible that they are related which is why my colleagues from the serious crimes unit would like a word with you."

"How's the young lady . . . er, Marta?" asked Helen.

"She's doing all right," laughed Chalky. "A feisty young thing. The gash on her head has been patched up by the paramedics but they are going to take her off to hospital shortly so they can X-ray her and make sure that everything is okay. She's had quite a hard blow I'm afraid."

A short time later the ambulance carried the young girl off to the hospital and ten minutes later an unmarked police car with all its lights flashing, pulled up behind the patrol car. Two young men in suits got out and walked towards them.

PC Chalker met them half way.

"What do we have constable?" asked Danny Warren.

"A young lady was assaulted, Sir. The attacker rammed into the rear of the car and when she was inspecting the damage he struck her with a blunt instrument."

Danny and Martin Jackson exchanged glances.

"Who was the woman?" asked Jackson.

The officer consulted his notebook.

"A young lady by the name of Marta Rinikova, Polish girl. She was on the phone to her boyfriend when the attack happened."

"Is she badly hurt?" asked Danny.

"She received a nasty crack on the head. Probably needs stitching. The paramedics have taken her off to Shellington General to get her checked out."

"We'll head over there afterwards," said Danny. "I understand we have a couple of witnesses?"

"Yes, Mr and Mrs Oldman. Luckily for the young lady they were there and saw the whole thing."

Danny walked over toward the couple who stood up again when the detectives arrived.

"Good Afternoon," he said, holding out his hand. "I'm Detective Sergeant Danny Warren and this is my colleague Detective Constable Martin Jackson."

"Pleased to meet you, I'm Terry Oldman and this is my wife Helen."

"Mr and Mrs Oldman, I understand that you both witnessed everything that happened this afternoon. I know you have already answered all of PC Chalker's questions but would you mind answering them again for us please?"

The couple once again retold the events of the afternoon, how they had seen the car collide with Marta's car and how they then witnessed the man strike Marta with something. They described the attacker and his vehicle as best they could. Eventually, the detectives had all the information they could get and got back in their car and drove away. PC Gordon "Ed" Stewart arranged for Marta's hire car to be recovered and waited with the vehicle whilst PC Chalker took Helen and Terry back to where they had left their own car.

Danny Warren and Martin Jackson arrived at the hospital just as Marta was being wheeled into a private ward after having had the X-rays on her head. They knocked on the door and walked into the small room. A doctor and a nurse finished settling Marta in.

"How is Miss Rinikova?" asked Danny.

The doctor looked up from his clip board.

"Well, we will get the results of the X-rays in a little while so we should find out if there are any fractures. Miss Rinikova has had quite a blow to the head so I think it best to keep her in for a day or two, just to be on the safe side. She has a minor concussion and will have a monster of a headache once the adrenalin wears off. The sutures can come out in about seven to ten days."

"Is it all right if we ask Miss Rinikova a few questions?" Danny directed his question to the doctor.

"I don't know, why don't you ask her," the doctor smiled and left the room, the nurse in hot pursuit.

Danny looked at Marta. The gash on her forehead had been stitched and was covered with a large square plaster. The bruise was already spreading out from beneath it and covered most of her forehead. The areas around her eyes and down the sides of her nose had also started to blacken.

"Miss Rinikova, my name is Danny Warren and this is Martin Jackson. We are the detectives investigating this attack. Do you mind if I call you Marta?"

"No, is okay."

Danny made himself comfortable in the chair alongside her bed whilst Jackson leaned against the wall by the door.

"Okay Marta. We very much want to catch this man as we think he may have attacked other girls too, so anything that you can remember about the attack will be very useful. Now, can you tell us exactly what happened?"

Marta described the events in as much detail as she could. She found it a little difficult because her head was thumping.

"Sorry, can I have something for head?" she asked touching her temples with her fingertips.

"Sure, no problem," Danny looked across the room at his colleague.

Martin disappeared from the room, returning a couple of minutes later with the nurse. The nurse handed Marta some tablets in a small cup and brought her a drink from a water cooler in the corridor. Danny waited for Marta to take her tablets before continuing with his questioning.

"Can you describe your attacker?" asked Danny.

"He is tall, your height. Big on shoulder."

"You mean he was well built?"

"Yes, big."

"Do you remember what he looked like? Did he have a beard or moustache? Colour of his eyes?"

"No beard. He have only whiskers like he not shave today. I don't know what colour eyes. Sorry."

"That's okay. Do you remember seeing any scars or tattoos on him?"

"No. I remember he have dark hair, short."

"Good. Can you describe how he was dressed? What was he wearing?"

"He wear T-shirt, dark grey. And big boots."

"Great, what colour trousers was he wearing, Jeans?"

"No jeans, he wear . . . _spodnie bojowe_ . . . like army."

"Camouflage?"

"Yes, with many pockets."

"Combat trousers," offered Martin.

"Yes that it, combat trouser."

"What about his car, have you any idea what type it was? Did you see his licence plate."

"It was very big car. With many lights on roof. I did not see number, sorry."

"Don't worry, you've done brilliantly so far Marta. Is there anything else you can remember about the incident?"

"No, sorry."

"That's okay. Well, we will leave you in peace now to get some rest. Thank you for your help. I will call in tomorrow morning to see how you are in case you remember anything else later. Is that okay?"

"Yes, thank you. You are very kind. You will catch him please for me, Mr Warren?"

"We are going to do everything we can Marta, we want to catch him just as badly as you do." He squeezed her hand to reassure her and the two detectives left the room.

The following day the results came in from the DNA samples relating to the Rebecca Reid case. Andy Shaw went through them and ran them against the samples from known offenders held on the Police Database. To his dismay, there was no match. This was doubly disappointing as he had also got no match from the fingerprint evidence ran against the National Police Fingerprint Database.

Considering how long they had been exposed to the elements Andy was surprised and delighted that he had managed to lift several prints from the leather trainers found near the murder scene. After eliminating Danny Warren's, young Philip Clark's and Rebecca Reid's, he was left with one other set presumably from the killer.

The DNA results confirmed that the blood on Rebecca's face came from two different sources, one had been hers and the other unknown. The blood around her mouth looked as if Miss Reid had almost certainly bitten her attacker at some point. The unknown blood sample was presumably from her killer as the DNA from it also matched that of the sperm samples. At least when the results came back from the Denise Foley case they would be able to confirm that it was the same perpetrator. He already knew that they were dealing with the same person because he had established that the shoelace around Miss Foley's neck was a perfect match to the one that was used to kill Rebecca.

Analysis of the plant material from the murder scene had proven beyond doubt that Rebecca had been murdered there and her body later dumped in the woods. Rebecca's parents had also confirmed that the necklace found at the scene belonged to their daughter.

It seemed that Denise Foley had also put up quite a struggle despite her injuries as they had found hair and skin samples under most of her fingernails.

Earlier that morning his team had examined the damage done to the latest victim's car. Last evening Danny Warren had called him and told him that there had been a foiled abduction attempt on a young Polish girl. The M.O. was the same but because it was carried out in broad daylight, Danny wanted to know if it could have been the same perpetrator or the work of a copycat.

Examination of the car showed the damage was consistent with that on Denise Foley's car. The measurements and height of the various dents were almost identical and paint samples taken confirmed that the damage was caused by the same vehicle. He finished his latest report and asked his secretary to run upstairs and give it to Danny Warren.

Danny had just returned from the hospital after checking up on Marta. She was in good spirits despite her ordeal but could not remember anything else about the attacker.

He was thumbing through the forensics report when DCI Green came out of his office.

"Ah, Danny. How is our Miss Rinikova?"

"Doing very well considering what she's been through Sir. She looks as if she's been five rounds with Mike Tyson though."

"Did she remember anything else?"

"No Sir, but she agreed that she would come into the police headquarters tomorrow to look through some mug shots of known rapists, in the hope that this attacker is already on file somewhere."

"I wouldn't bank on it, have you read your copy of Shaw's report?"

"Just looking at it now Sir."

"We drew a blank on the DNA and fingerprints, so looks like our chap is not in the system yet."

"No Sir. I have a possible lead Sir. I phoned around the local car accessory companies but nobody has sold a headlight unit for a four-by-four in the last week. I then phoned all the scrappers in a twenty mile radius. The only one that had was a place called Barnard Breakers and they specialise in off-roaders. I'm going over there shortly to have a talk with them."

"Okay, we need to have a chat later. I think we should probably have another Press Conference to announce that we've found Miss Foley's body. He won't have expected us to have found it so soon so it may catch him off guard."

"Yes Sir. He's probably already off guard after yesterday's aborted attempt."

"Hmm. Now that we have confirmed that the latest attempt was him we can put out a description. It may force him to make a mistake. Keep me posted." DCI Green disappeared back into his office and closed the door.

Danny picked up his car keys and jacket and went out to his car. The inside of the car was like an oven as the sun beat down relentlessly on it. He climbed in, lowered all the windows and started the engine. Less than thirty minutes later he pulled into the yard of Barnard Breakers. As he got out of the car the old Rottweiler lumbered towards him.

"Hello Boy," Danny looked at the dog and smiled.

The animal lowered its head and emitted a deep growl that made Danny stop dead in his tracks.

"HUMPHREY!" An elderly man leaned out of the office window and shouted at the dog, "leave the man alone, you grouchy old sod. Go on, clear off."

The dog looked around before lying down. As he proceeded towards the office Danny kept an eye on the creature as it leisurely licked its balls in the sunshine.

He was surprised at how cool it was as he stepped into the office. There were several fans dotted around the room blowing the air about. The old man walked over to the counter as he walked in.

"Yes Sir, how can I help you?"

Danny showed his warrant card, the old man's eyes widened a little.

"You are the chap who rang earlier?"

"That's right, DS Warren."

"Cyril Barnard," the old man shook his hand.

"Well Mr Barnard, I'm looking for some information about a headlight unit that you sold a few days ago."

"Yep, remember it well. The only lighting unit we've sold for over a fortnight. What would you like to know?"

"Can you describe the person you sold it too?"

"Sure can. Big built, looked like he worked out a lot. Tall bloke, maybe six foot. Short dark hair, clean shaven. Surly looking bugger though, never cracked a smile."

"How was he dressed?"

"He had camouflage trousers and I think he was wearing a T-shirt, dark green maybe. I thought he may have been in the military with the clothes and the short hair."

"Did he have any kind of accent?"

"I'd say he was North London. An old pal of mine from my National Service days used to have a similar accent. He came from Enfield."

"That's great. Can you remember the type of vehicle the light was for?"

"One sec."

Mr Barnard walked over to a tall cupboard that stood open against the back wall. He slid out a box and placed it on his desk. After thumbing through it for a minute he extracted a copy of the invoice and brought it back to the counter.

"2004 Isuzu trooper. Three litre diesel," he said triumphantly.

"Fabulous," grinned Danny, "Any chance you can make me a photocopy of that invoice please?"

"No problem," the old man took the invoice over to a battered old Xerox machine and placed it over the glass."

"Any idea of the colour?"

"Afraid not, didn't get to see the car, he parked outside the yard."

"I don't suppose you got a name did you, on a cheque or card receipt perhaps?"

"Sorry, he paid cash, never gave his name," the old man handed Danny the copy of the invoice.

"Thank you very much, you've been most helpful," said Danny zipping up his document folder. "If you can think of anything else I would be grateful if you can call this number."

Cyril Barnard took the card containing the Incident Room number. Danny said goodbye and turned to go. As he reached the door the old man stopped him.

"Oh, I just remembered one other thing. Don't know if it's of any use but he had a bandage around his left hand."

Danny crossed the yard to his car, thankfully there was no sign of the dog. He was elated with the information. From the description Cyril Barnard had given him, he was sure it was the same man. The fact that he had a bandage on his hand tied in to the fact that Rebecca Reid had bitten him. Now he was sure they knew the exact make and model of the car too. He reversed out of the yard and headed back to the office.

Matthew Jarvis had not ventured out for the rest of that day or the following day. He couldn't believe how close he had come to being caught. He was pretty sure the couple hadn't seen his car registration. The girl had been only semi-conscious on the ground and he would have been too far down the road, by the time they had reached the girl, for the man and woman to have seen it. He also doubted if any of them could give the police a decent description of him. It was stupid of him to have tried to take the girl in broad daylight and he had nearly paid the price for it. He would be more careful from now on.

He had woken up early, more determined than ever to get Linda back into his life. He had to find a way to discover where she was living. He missed her so much and he was sure that when he had her back there would be no need to take out his rage on any body else. That's what a wife was for after all. She had vowed to Love, Honour and Obey him. The trouble was she just needed a little reminder about the latter every now and then. He blamed her mother, the vile old crone. She had tried her best to poison Linda against him from the very start, even before they were married. He wouldn't mind betting that her mother had suggested that Linda leave him. He slammed his fist down hard on the table making his coffee slop onto the polished wooden surface.

"God damn it," he shouted. He had forgotten about the bite on his hand and now it throbbed like a bitch.

Getting up from the table he grabbed his jacket and car keys and stomped into the garage. He had parked his car in the garage when he returned home so that he could repair the paintwork on his bull bars, away from the prying eyes of his neighbours. He pressed the button on the wall and the huge double door lifted up allowing him to reverse out. Once out on the drive he pressed the button on the small black box attached to his sun visor and the garage door lowered back into position. He reversed his Isuzu out onto the road and drove away.

There were things he needed so he decided to drive to Bristol to get them rather than buy them locally. He arrived just at the end of the Friday morning rush hour. There was still a lot of traffic but he was glad he hadn't arrived there any earlier. He decided to park down near the docks and found a suitable space in a multi-storey car park just off King Street. Exiting the car park he walked the short distance into town. First, he visited a ship's chandler and bought thirty metres of nylon rope. Next, he went to a camping shop and bought a three by four metre reinforced plastic groundsheet and a five kilo bottle of camping gas. Finally, he called in to the Army Surplus Store and bought a trenching shovel. He paid in cash for all his purchases.

It was as he was walking back to his car that he saw Linda. Jarvis stepped back into a shop doorway as he watched his wife and another woman emerged from a building and cross the road. They were sharing a joke as they walked and he caught her laugh, a sound he hadn't heard in a long time. At first Jarvis didn't think it was her, just someone who looked like her. She looked as if she had put on a bit of weight, not in a bad way, he thought that she had always been a little on the skinny side. Her hair was a little longer too. She looked well. He watched her as she walked up the steps leading to St Nicholas Street and decided to follow at a safe distance. He didn't want to run the risk of spooking her. Jarvis was running over in his mind what he was going to say to her as he sprinted up the steps behind her. She had turned right into the market but when he reached the top of the steps and looked to the right she was nowhere to be seen. Jarvis walked slowly through the market looking in all the stalls but Linda had simply vanished. He spent the next half an hour looking around the area for her but eventually gave up and returned to his vehicle. On the way back to the car park he looked at the door from which she had emerged. He could see through the glass door that stairs led up to offices above the bank below. The sign on the doors announced Russell & Finch, Chartered Surveyors. He had no idea what she would be doing in there, maybe she worked there. Jarvis took his purchases back to the car and locked them in the boot, then returned to the street and took a seat in a small café fifty yards from the office where he could keep an eye on the door in case she returned. It crossed his mind to go into the office and ask them what she had been doing there but he dismissed the idea. Nearly an hour later the woman he had seen walking with Linda returned to the office. He watched her cross the road in front of him and enter through the glass door. Another hour later he gave up his quest, returned to his car and drove home.

Oblivious to the fact that her husband was following her, Linda Jarvis entered St Nicholas Street Market with her new workmate Sonya. When Linda had first arrived at the women's refuge she had been quiet and withdrawn, that was until she met Sonya who had been in an abusive relationship herself and had ended up at the same shelter. It had taken a long time for her to regain her confidence and find her own way but now that she had, she was happy to do voluntary work at the refuge, talking to women, helping in whatever way she could, even down to the odd spot of baby-sitting. Linda and Sonya had hit it off from the start and it was Sonya who had talked her boss into taking Linda on as a secretary at Russell & Finch. In the few short months that they had known each other Linda and Sonya had become the best of friends.

Almost as soon as they had entered St Nicholas Street Market they had turned off into the indoor market. Jarvis had only just missed them. After buying a T-shirt for each of the boys, Linda said goodbye to Sonya and left to catch her bus home, leaving by the side door of the indoor market and heading for the city centre. She had taken all of the afternoon off as she'd booked an appointment at the dentist for her youngest son, Thomas.

Linda could not believe just how much her life had changed in such a short period of time. She was so glad she had plucked up the courage to make the break. She was also terrified to think what her husband would do if he ever caught up with her. She hated his guts and had done so for years. She only stayed and put up with his abuse because of the children. She had this old-fashioned notion that the children would be better off with two parents than one. She knew that he loved her in his own warped, Neanderthal way but she could not take any more. It was bad enough when he struck out at her but when he hit Elliot that was it. She knew she had to do something and fast. She had waited until he had driven into town to the bookmaker, to gamble away even more of what precious little money they had, then packed as quickly as she could and called a taxi. The cab took them to Salisbury station where they got the train to Bristol Temple Meads. As soon as they arrived she went to the Tourist Information and asked where she could find the Citizen's Advice Bureau. CAB had listened to her story and made a couple of phone calls, one to Social Services and one to the National Domestic Violence Helpline. Within three hours of being in Bristol she met with a representative of Women's Aid who took her to a women's refuge. Rowan House was an unmarked, unassuming, one-time Victorian Mansion on the edge of the fashionable Clifton area. The location of the shelter was kept very low profile for obvious reasons. Nearly all of the residents were, like her, refugees fleeing from abusive relationships. Some had children, others didn't, but all shared one thing in common, a sense of freedom.

The specialist staff at the shelter gave her and the children the emotional and practical support they so desperately needed. Over the next few days she spoke to several counsellors and support workers. She was also interviewed by an Independent Domestic Violence Advocate who advised her on what to expect if she wished to press charges against her husband for the abuse she had suffered. She declined to do that but did push to obtain a non-molestation injunction against him. She also spoke to a solicitor recommended by the shelter, to start divorce proceeding against her husband. She was not after revenge, she just wanted out of the marriage.

She and the two boys had to share two rooms but she didn't mind that, at least they had a roof over their heads and the children were safe. The change in the boys was noticeable too, they were happier than she had seen them for ages. They had been given places in a nice school and had made lots of new friends. The children never spoke about their father. The only time since they had moved out that Matthew Jarvis's name came up was when she and Sonya had decided to take them out for the day to see The _SS Great Britain_ Exhibition in Bristol Harbour.

"Will Daddy be coming?" Thomas had asked.

"No Darling," she had replied.

"Good," he said and exchanged a smile with his brother.

She knew then that she had definitely made the right decision.

The Press Conference had gone well. The news of the discovery of Denise Foley's body was the main talking point. Certain information was divulged regarding the circumstances of her death and the link between the two murders was confirmed. The identity of the boys was withheld to protect them from a certain Press invasion. The Press were also informed of the foiled attempted abduction of another young woman. Again Marta Rinikova's and Helen and Terry Oldman's names were not mentioned to prevent another Press feeding frenzy. When the Press Conference was over, the various reporters scurried off back to their editorial offices to try to get their stories written up in time for the next editions. The weekend papers would be full of speculation about the cases.

Surprisingly, Danny Warren had the whole weekend off ahead of him. It was a very unusual thing for him and, although he was looking forward to a break, he was a little reluctant to leave the investigation even for a couple of days. In the end DCI Green had insisted he take the weekend off.

"Danny, I need you in here first thing Monday morning fresh and alert. You need a break. There are enough other chaps here to carry on with the investigation. We're not expecting you to solve this single handed you know."

"I know, Sir but . . ."

"No buts. You are taking the whole weekend and that's final."

"Yes, Sir," laughed Danny and Green retreated to his office.

Martin Jackson put down the phone and grinned.

"I have a hit on the tyres," he beamed.

"Really?"

"Yeah. There's a dealer near Amesbury remembers selling a set of five together with alloys to a guy, about four months ago. That was the last complete set they sold. The guy had phoned and ordered them, then went and picked them up. He paid in cash but get this . . . he loaded them into the back of a green Isuzu Trooper."

"That's our man!"

"Certainly is. I'm going over to talk to the guy, see if I can get a copy of the invoice etc. Coming?"

"No, I'll catch you later." Danny Warren was still uneasy about leaving the case for the weekend. He knew that Claire and Melanie would be delighted to have him home but, the case was just starting to hot up. They were just starting to develop some real leads."

DCI Green came back out of his office.

"Are you still here, Warren?"

"But it's only three o'clock, Sir."

"I don't care, go home. That's an order," Allen Green smiled at his young detective.

"Yes Sir. Thank you, Sir," Danny stood, picked up his car keys and unhooked his jacket from the back of the chair. "You will call me if there are any developments though won't you?"

"GO!"

Danny laughed and said his goodbyes before leaving the office.

After their appointment at the dentist Linda Jarvis and her youngest son Thomas went back to the school to meet Elliot before they all went back to Rowan House. Although they were happy at the refuge and she was immensely grateful for all they had done for her and the boys, Linda was looking forward to moving on with her life. She enjoyed the work and earned good money at Russell & Finch and she was looking forward to them being able to move to a home of their own. The social workers had offered her a small two-bedroom terraced house on a council estate in a not too run-down area of the city. It was not brilliant but it would do as a start. Unfortunately, they would not be able to move in for a few weeks as it was being redecorated throughout after being trashed when the previous tenant decided to have an impromptu rave for all his drunken drug-addicted friends.

She was seeing a solicitor the following week to start divorce proceedings against her husband. Her legal advisor had already informed her that if she could prove physical and mental cruelty that she could keep the house and would almost certainly be awarded custody of the children. She didn't want to keep the house, she wanted to get as far away as possible from him and all the horrible memories associated with that place. She was happy for the house to be sold so that she could buy another one somewhere where he could not find her. Until then, she was more than happy to make do with a little council terraced house no matter where it was situated.

After giving the boys their tea it was nice to relax a little. While the boys were playing in their room she socialised in the lounge, with some of the other residents. Later, just after she had tucked the boys up in their beds, Sonya called in for a while. They had offered to make tea for the ladies who were still up and, after leaving the communal kitchen, took their teas into the lounge and settled down onto the settee to chat. The television was on quietly in one corner of the room and as the News at Ten came on someone turned up the sound and the talking died down.

Unsurprisingly, the lead story was about the discovery of Denise Foley's body. The women listened in horror as the presenter described the details of the abduction, rape and subsequent murder.

". . . _the body was discovered by three young boys playing in the quarry. The boy's identities are being kept secret to protect them from Press intrusion but it is believed that they all live in the village of Hinton Berkeley. Police have also confirmed a link between Miss Foley's murder and the recent murder of twenty-three year old Rebecca Reid whose naked body was discovered in Barrington Woods by a couple walking their dogs_ . . ."

The announcer continued to present the similarities in the two cases as the women watched silently.

"Those poor women," one of the ladies remarked. "I dread to think what they must have gone through."

"It's those poor bloody kids I feel sorry for," said Sonya. "Imagine finding that. Christ, they'll be mentally scarred for life."

Several of the women murmured their agreement.

". . . _The Police also announced today, that a foiled abduction yesterday was believed to be the work of the same person. Twenty year old Polish student, Marta Rinikova was brutally attacked as she was making a phone call in a lay-by on the B3371 near Cheddar Gorge. The attacker had rammed Miss Rinikova's hire-car before assaulting her. The abduction was thwarted thanks to the intervention of Mr Terry Oldman and his wife Helen, who were hiking nearby when they witnessed the attack taking place_ . . ."

The TV screen changed and showed photographs of the three young women. It was immediately obvious that there were similarities in the appearance of the girls.

". . . _The attacker is described as a white male, of stocky build, in his late thirties, with short brown hair. It is believed that he made off in a green or brown off-road vehicle. Police are requesting that anybody with any information please call the incident room on the number at the bottom of your screen_ . . ."

"Sounds just like the sort of thing that bastard I married would do," remarked one of the women.

"God Linda, good job you don't still live down that way any more. He could be after you," another laughed.

"Yeah, if I were you Honey I'd dye your hair. He obviously has a thing about blondes."

Suddenly Linda had a sickening feeling in the pit of her stomach.

"Jesus, Babe. Are you okay?" Sonya was looking at her with a concerned expression. "You look like you've seen a ghost."

"Yes . . . Yes. I'm just tired that's all. I may be coming down with something. Think I'll take myself off to bed." Linda rose from the settee.

Sonya grasped her hand.

"See you tomorrow Hon. Take care of yourself."

"Yeah, tomorrow, okay. Goodnight." She squeezed Sonya's hand and smiled weakly.

Linda lay awake for over an hour, the images of the three women going around and around in her mind, before she finally fell into a restless sleep.

Matthew Jarvis watched the television news report and decided that he needed to keep a lower profile. Trying to take that Polish whore in broad daylight was a stupid mistake. He would probably have gotten away with it if it hadn't been for those bloody hikers. He was certain that the Police were no nearer to working out who he was, but he thought it prudent to disappear for a while. There were many places he could go but he needed somewhere where he was sure no one would think to look and he knew just the place.

In the early hours of the following morning Jarvis went into his garage and started sorting out the things he needed. The small two-man tent, groundsheet, camping stove and gas were loaded into the back of the Isuzu, along with various other camping necessities. He then loaded the contents of the fridge into a large cool box and filled several small cardboard boxes with food items. He stowed these in the car with the camping gear.

Once he was happy that he had all he needed Jarvis did one last check of the house before climbing into his truck. The garage door lifted and he drove out into the early morning sun. Twenty minutes later he reached the turnoff into Barrington Woods. It was a different route into the woods than the last one he had taken. He had deliberately avoided using the same entrance just in case there were any police or Press still snooping about.

Deeper and deeper he went along the track. This route was never used and the grass grew high right across it. The going was very bumpy and Jarvis smiled as he thought that an off-roader was the only vehicle that could get down here. About a mile into the woods he took a left turn down an even less defined track. A few hundred yards further on, he brought the vehicle to a halt. He was almost in the centre of the forest now, far away from the usual weekend hikers, dog walkers and mushroom gatherers.

Jarvis got out of the car and stretched, then searched about to find the most suitable spot to pitch camp. Once he was happy with his choice, he set to work clearing the area and erecting the tent. The tent had a sewn-in groundsheet so once it was erected he strung a line between two trees and threw the new tarpaulin over it. Fixing a line to each corner he tied them off on the surrounding trees making a huge canopy above the tent and his camp site. If the weather turned nasty he was assured that his new home would remain dry. Unloading everything else from the car Jarvis set up his camp kitchen and connected the gas bottle to the stove. Once he was happy that everything was in its rightful place he set about brewing up a cup of coffee.

As he sat in his camping chair sipping his coffee, Matthew Jarvis smiled contentedly to himself. Everything was coming together. He had devised a fool-proof plan to speak to Linda and he was sure that, quite soon, everything would be back to normal.

The weekend had dragged for Danny Warren. It had been great to spend some quality time with Claire and Melanie but his thoughts were constantly preoccupied with the events of the last two weeks.

Walking into his office on Monday morning he was met by Martin Jackson.

"Morning Danny, Incident Room Four in ten minutes."

"Morning, why? What's happened?"

"Don't know. DCI Green called a meeting about the murders."

Danny just had time to nip to the canteen and grab a coffee before the meeting started. Carrying their drinks they pushed open the doors to the meeting room. There were already about twenty people in the room. As lead investigators, Danny and Martin took their seats near the front.

DCI Green stood at the front of the room. Seated on the table alongside him was late-middle aged gent in a shabby suit.

"Good Morning Ladies and Gentlemen," DCI Green looked around the room. I trust you are all suitably refreshed after the weekend?"

He glanced across at Danny and smiled.

"I'd like first to introduce an old friend of mine, Professor Tom Melton."

The gentleman nodded to the assembled officers.

"Tom is a Criminal Psychologist and I asked him to have a look at the case files to see if he could come up with any idea of the type of culprit we are looking for. Now, I assume you all saw the television News on Friday evening and read the papers over the weekend? Then you will be aware that Miss Rinikova's name has been associated with the attempted abduction despite our assurances that we would not be releasing it to the Press."

"How did the Press get hold of it Sir?" asked Martin.

"It would seem that Terry and Helen Oldman couldn't resist their fifteen minutes of fame and told all the gory details to everyone they came in contact with. They not only gave the reporters Miss Rinikova's name but they even told them which hospital she had been taken to. The uniformed boys had a call late on Friday evening as several reporters were trying to gain entry to Miss Rinikova's private room for an "exclusive" interview. Needless to say, they were ejected very smartish by our lads. What I find more concerning is that the village where the three young lads live has also been under siege by reporters this weekend. Where the hell they found out about them, God alone knows. I have already spoken to the boys' parents and reassured them that the leak did not come from us.

"The good news is that the results of the DNA samples have come back and they have confirmed that we are definitely dealing with the one person. The same individual, raped and murdered both girls.

"Now, Tom. Can you give us the benefit of your vast knowledge and experience and give us an idea of what type of character we are up against please?"

"Certainly Allen, thank you." Tom Melton rose to his feet. He was considerably taller than first impressions and was very heavily built. "As a Criminal Psychologist my job is to try to build up a picture of the individual from the way he carries out his crime. In order to do this we look at several aspects of the crime and the information and evidence gathered and compare these to a multitude of other crimes committed over decades. Statistics have been taken from thousands of different crimes from all over the world and the information analysed and categorised. From this information we can begin to build up a picture from what we already know about other people who have previously committed the same crime or crimes. Let me give you an example of how we can get a quick idea of the type of person we are looking for.

"I understand that the suspect is known to drive a large four wheel drive vehicle. Let's have a look at the demographic for the typical off-roader. The average age of four-by-four owners is thirty-five to forty-four years old. They are white, married males, in full time employment and own their own homes. This gives us a very solid starting point. I understand that Miss Rinikova described him as a white male in his late thirties or early forties.

"Now let's look at the crimes themselves. Contrary to popular belief rape is not a sex crime."

"That's ridiculous," one of the young women officers was outraged. "How could you possibly say that? Of course it's a sex crime."

"No it isn't," Tom Melton directed his explanation at the woman. "Rape is not about sex. Rape is about power, it's about control and it's about violence. Sex is merely the weapon used. In lots of cases the perpetrator will use an object of some sort to violate his victim because he is not sexually stimulated enough to perform the act himself."

Melton sat back down on the edge of the table.

"It is important to understand the reasons behind what the offender does and why he does it," he continued. "Rapists are generally unarmed. Most have a history of violence, in fact, one in three has a prior record for violent crime. Twenty-five percent have previously been before the courts on a rape charge.

"Our offender falls in the Organised Non-Social Offender category. These particular offenders are, in general, very well organised although sometimes compulsive in their thinking and behaviour. They are non-social by choice mainly because they have such huge egos they feel that nobody else measures up to them. They often have a history of drug or alcohol abuse. This type of offender is usually bright, well educated and already has a sex partner. He will generally work in a male dominated profession such as construction or engineering.

"He is extremely assertive and will rape simply because he can. The power and control he has over his victim is a way of validating his masculinity. His fists are his weapons of choice and he will assault his victims repeatedly with no remorse. The victim will usually suffer a very brutal attack, verbally and physically, and will often have a considerable amount of physical and genital injuries, as I think you have all seen from the crime scene photographs."

"What do you think are his motives Professor?" asked Danny Warren.

"Good question." Tom Melton looked up to the ceiling and thought for a moment. "This chap is clearly out to hurt someone, to punish or degrade them. He sees himself as very masculine and has a quick temper. His urge is almost uncontrollable because it is a build-up of rage and anger against someone. He blames women, his Mother, Wife, lover, for all the injustices that have happened in his life. Most likely the victim will bear a strong resemblance to the woman who has caused his anger."

"Do you think he may have been abused by his Mother and is now getting his own back?" asked another officer.

"That is certainly a possibility although I find it doubtful. I would suggest that it is most likely a wife or lover that is the cause of his rage, as the victims are all relatively young. If he is reacting against his Mother one would expect his victims to be of a more mature age group to represent the Mother figure. My personal belief is that his relationship has ended, probably because of his violent tendencies, and he is exacting revenge on any woman who looks like his ex-partner. As you can see from the photographs, there is a strong common resemblance between each of the three victims."

Allen Green turned to the professor.

"So Tom, can you just summarise who, in your opinion, we are looking for please?"

"Certainly, we are looking for a white male, thirty-five to forty-four, married, possibly recently divorced or separated from his partner and probably in full-time employment. He will be a well-educated, out-doors type. A very ruthless and dangerous individual indeed, and possibly already known to us for previous violent crimes."

"Thank you very much Tom and I'm sure you will all agree it was a very useful and enlightening insight into this offender."

"My pleasure, Allen. If anybody has any questions I would be happy to answer them."

The meeting continued for another twenty minutes as the detectives discussed the information that the professor had laid before them.

"It may be worth having a butcher's through the old violent crimes records to see who we have in that age range, living in the area," suggested Martin.

"In that case I'm going to pull the DVLA listings for all Isuzu owners within a thirty-mile radius of the crimes. He's got to be fairly local to the area."

"I'm sure he _is_ local," remarked the professor. "He seems to have a good knowledge of the locality, where to commit the assaults and where to dump the bodies."

"Sir, as we have the DNA results, do you think it may be worth asking all males in that age group to provide DNA samples as a means to eliminating them as suspects?"

"Possibly," replied DCI Green, "although I don't think the chaps at the labs would thank us for it, they are already snowed under. Andy Shaw had to practically sell his arse to get those samples turned around so quickly."

"We could reduce the numbers by just targeting the ones who own four-wheel drive vehicles though."

"Hmm. Let me give it some thought," DCI Green remained unconvinced.

The meeting broke up and Danny and Martin returned to their desks to continue their investigations.

Earlier that same morning, Linda Jarvis took her boys to school as usual. It was another fine day and she was looking forward to this evening as she and Sonya were taking the boys to the cinema to see the latest spectacle from Disney. It was years since she had been to the movies and she was excited at the prospect. She hadn't told the boys of their plan as she wanted it to be a surprise. She waved goodbye to the boys at the gate and then walked the short distance to the bus stop.

The bus trundled through the busy city streets and she looked at her watch every few minutes. She had only been working at Russell & Finch a short while and didn't want to run the risk of being late. She knew that Colin Russell and Bob Finch would probably not turn up much before 10.00am but Sonya opened up the office and she didn't want to let her friend down. Besides, tardiness was not in her nature. She had always been brought up to believe that it was better to be an hour early than five minutes late for anything.

The bus eventually came to a halt in the city centre outside the old Hippodrome Theatre. Alighting from the bus Linda crossed the road, passed the strange array of fountains in the centre of the junction, and turned into Baldwin Street. Checking her watch again she smiled, bang on time. It took two minutes to walk the short distance to the office. She slowed her pace as she approached the door and, as she reached out to push the handle a hand gripped her upper arm tightly and pushed her forward. In shock and surprise she gasped and turned her head to see who had grabbed her.

"Shut up and keep walking," Jarvis said in a cold steady voice.

"What? . . . Get off me," she tried to wriggle free but he held her tightly and continued to force her to walk forward.

"You struggle and it will only get worse for you," he hissed.

"No . . . let me go Matt or I'll scream."

Jarvis looked around. There were very few people about despite the fact that it was 8.55am. He knew that they were now only a few yards from the entrance to the multi-storey car park where he had left the car.

"Look," he said. "I only want to talk, to clear things up between us."

"I have nothing to say to you. It's over between us Matt, why can't you just accept that?"

"No. We can work things out, I know we can." He pushed her through the door to the car park entrance.

"We can't, I've had enough. I've moved on and so have the children. You must let me go."

Jarvis realised that she was going to take a lot more convincing and she was not going to go along quietly. He slid his hand around to his back pocket and took out the small wooden cosh. He pushed her forward and at the same time, bringing his hand back around swiftly, hit her hard on the back of the skull, catching her as she fell. Suddenly, the lift door started opening. In an instant he turned her around, pinned her to the wall and kissed her on the lips. The two men who exited the lift glanced across and smiled as they passed by them. Once the men had left the building Jarvis dragged Linda's unconscious body into the lift and pressed the button for the third floor. It seemed to take an age for the lift to reach the level on which his car was parked. The doors opened and leaning out he looked up and down the ranks of cars to make sure no one was about, then picking up his wife he carried her quickly to the car. He pinned her against the side of the car while he fumbled in his pocket for his key. Pressing the button on the fob he heard the click of the central locking and opened the back door. Jarvis laid his wife gently across the back seat then, going around to the rear of the car, opened the tailgate and cut two lengths from the nylon cord he had bought a few days earlier. In less than five minutes he had tied Linda's hands and feet and was on his way down the access ramps towards the car park exit. At the ticket booth he lowered his window and passed his ticket along with a five pound note to the cashier. The barrier went up and, without waiting for his change, Jarvis raced off down the road. The bewildered cashier grinned and slid the change into his jacket pocket.

Danny Warren sat back from his computer screen and put his hands behind his head.

"I can't believe how many off-roaders there are in this area."

"I can, you're in deepest, darkest Wiltshire. Every other car is a bloody off-roader," laughed his colleague.

"Well I managed to reduce it down quite a bit by filtering out all the Isuzu Troopers, then took out just the 2004 models. That still leaves thirty-three of the damn things."

"Why don't you separate out the drivers in the target age group and check them first? If that yields nothing we can check the rest later."

"Good idea," Danny tapped away at his keyboard. "That's better. Got it down to twenty-six."

Martin laughed.

"Looks like the professor's demographic was spot on."

"I'll print out a list of names and addresses and we can go around and have a chat with them."

"Actually, once you've printed them out I can check the names against this list of offenders with previous convictions that I've printed out. If any of them match up we can target them first."

The two detectives spent an hour comparing the two lists before eventually drawing up a shortlist of nine suspects.

"Christ I wasn't expecting as many as that," remarked Martin checking through the list.

"I suppose that four wheel drive vehicles probably appeal to the more macho type of individual. It stands to reason that some of them are going to be hard-nuts with a bit of form. Come on let's go and have a chat with some of them."

The next few hours were spent tracking down suspects either at home or at their place of work. They were asked to provide details of where they were at the times of each of the abduction. The first two were eliminated straight away, one because he was two short and fair haired and the other because he was about thirty stone and had trouble walking with a stick. The third was interesting though. They tracked him down at the bakery where he worked. He didn't have an alibi for the night of the first murder but claimed he was away in France with his friends the night of the second. Whilst Martin continued to question him, Danny spoke to the bakery owner who confirmed that the man had indeed been away in France for a few days and came back with some cheap cigarettes for his boss.

Danny and Martin stopped for lunch in a small café in a charming little village on the edge of the Mendips. They compared notes as they ate.

"Who's the next on the list?" asked Danny. "We should find the nearest to here so we don't have to run around like we did this morning."

Martin consulted his list and the small road map he had brought in from the car.

"There are two within a few miles from here. Samuel Ringer in West Thurleigh, did two years for GBH in 1989 and another eighteen months in 1994 for assault. The other is Matthew Jarvis, last known address is in Middle Compton. He had a few fines and did a bit of probation as a youth, mostly for assault and causing affray and got a six-month suspended sentence in 1993 for ABH. Apparently, some guy started a fight in a pub one night and Jarvis broke the guy's jaw, several ribs and both his arms." Martin laughed. "The only reason he got a suspended sentence was because witnesses testified that the other guy started the fight."

"You've got to be kidding me," said Danny.

"And, get this, Jarvis claimed he was acting in self-defence."

"Yeah, right," laughed Danny. "Anybody who can do that much damage to another individual is not doing it in self-defence."

"Isn't our judicial system wonderful?" said Martin, sarcastically.

The two detectives finished their lunch, paid the bill and walked out into the afternoon sunshine. Climbing back into the car, Danny consulted the road map. Martin had encircled the two places where it was believed the two suspects lived. Samuel Ringer lived the closest so, having tapped the postcode into his satnav, Danny put the vehicle in gear, turned out of the car park and headed in the direction of West Thurleigh. It took only fifteen minutes to reach the village and another four to find the exact address.

Parking the car outside the house, they got out of the vehicle and surveyed the property. The bungalow was a small construction with shabby paintwork on the door and window frames. The front lawn was overgrown, the flower beds full of weeds and the small privet hedge that surrounded the property was in desperate need of a trim. They walked up the pathway and pressed the doorbell. The reedy door chimes rang out " _Jingle Bells_ " and Danny and Martin looked at each other and chuckled. It took ages for anyone to answer but, eventually, the door was opened by a small, thin elderly man who looked at them suspiciously.

"Whatever you're selling, I'm not interested. Now bugger off!"

Danny held out his warrant card and the old man screwed up his eyes to read it.

"We're not selling anything we would like to have a word with Samuel Ringer," explained Danny.

"You and me both," said the old man. "But we're both going to be disappointed."

"He does live here, doesn't he?" Martin consulted his list of suspects.

"Lived here," corrected the man. "Doesn't any more."

"Do you know where he is now?" asked Danny.

"Hell I should imagine, useless little tyke." The old man looked at the two detectives and shook his head. "He's dead, killed in a car crash six weeks ago, stupid bugger. It was his own fault, tear-arsing down the Exeter by-pass. He always drove far too fast. Used to scare the crap out of me every time he took me to the hospital for one of my checkups. It's a wonder I never had a bloody heart attack."

"Are you related to Samuel?" asked Danny.

"I'm his Dad," the old man replied. "Not much of a son, but he was all I had since his mother died in 1999."

"We're sorry for your loss Mr Ringer," Danny felt a real sense of compassion for the old man.

"What did you want to talk to him about anyway? Had he been up to more of his old tricks?"

"No, nothing of the kind," Danny reassured him. "We wanted to ask him if he could help us with some information about another individual he may have known, that's all."

"We're sorry to have troubled you, Mr Ringer," Martin looked at Danny who nodded briefly.

"No trouble really. It's nice to talk to someone, even if it is the Old Bill," laughed the old man. "I don't get many people to talk to these days, not since Sam went. You can see by the state of the garden how much I depended on him."

The two detectives looked at the state of the property.

"I'm too unsteady on me pins and too full of arthritis to do it myself. I've lived in this house fifty-seven years but I expect social services will soon stick me in a home so I can spend my last days sitting in an armchair watching some drooling old biddy across the room."

"They can organise home help to come in and cook and clean for you," offered Danny.

"Hmm. You think they're gonna do that for me? I certainly ain't gonna hold me breath," laughed Mr Ringer. "They'll take one look at this place and see that I can't keep it up and shove me in a home before you can say knife."

"But what if you could get the place up together, to prove you are still independent?"

The old man laughed.

"And how can I do that? The garden's a mess and the whole house could do with a lick of paint inside and out." Mr Ringer held out his bony hand. "No, don't you worry about me lad. You boys have a nice day."

"Thanks Mr Ringer. You take care." Danny shook the old man's hand and the two detectives walked back down the path and climbed into their car.

Before starting the engine Danny took out his mobile phone and started dialling.

"Who are you ringing," asked Martin.

"My brother-in-law. He's the Secretary of Shellington Lions Club."

After a few seconds the phone was answered.

"Hi Clive? Danny. Yeah, I'm fine thanks Mate, how are you? Clive, I have a favour to ask." Danny continued to explain about Mr Ringer and his current situation. A couple of minutes later he hung up the phone.

"Sorted," he grinned.
"What is?" asked Martin intrigued.

"Clive is going to have a chat with some of his club members to see if they can get a few of the lads to form a work party and come round to Mr Ringer's to tidy up his garden for him. He said that once they've got it under control they can take it in turns to pop over every other week to mow the lawns for him."

"Wow, that's really nice."

"Knowing Clive he will probably have some good contacts in Social Services who can stump up the money for some materials so that he can do a bit of decorating for the old chap too."

"Brilliant."

Martin wrote "Deceased" on his list, next to Samuel Ringer's name and, with a much happier outlook on the day, the detectives went in search of their next suspect.

Twenty-five minutes later they pulled up outside the property of Matthew Jarvis. The contrast between this and the last property they visited was amazing. The window frames, front door and facia boards were all white UPVC and the doors on the double garage was painted brilliant white. The lawn and flower beds were immaculate.

Walking up to the gleaming front door Danny pushed the button on the bell. He waited a minute then pressed it again. He also banged loudly with his fist on the door. Still receiving no answer he walked over to the large front window. Shielding his eyes with his hands he leaned forward and peered into the room. He could see that, behind the net curtains the wooden blinds were also closed.

"Check the back," he looked at Martin who sauntered around the side of the garage.

Danny waited on the drive until Martin returned.

"All locked up and all the blinds drawn," his colleague advised.

"I don't think he's in," the two men jumped at the sound of the voice and turned to see a tall, thin man standing at the end of the driveway. A small dog on a lead stood shivering against his leg.

"Sorry?" asked Danny.

"I don't think he's in," the man repeated. "I take it you're looking for Matt?"

"Matthew Jarvis, yes? And you are?" Danny approached the man holding out his warrant card.

"Oh! Police! I . . . er . . . I'm Malcolm Reynolds. I live next door."

"Do you know where Matthew Jarvis is Mr Reynolds?"

"No, I'm afraid not."

"When was the last time you saw him?"

"Well, very early yesterday morning I heard a car revving up outside so got out of bed to take a look and saw Matt's car driving off down the road."

Danny looked up from writing in his note book.

"About what time was this?"

"Ooh, it must have been about five-thirty, I think."

"And when was the last time you saw Mr Jarvis to speak to?" asked Danny.

"That would have been about a week ago. He keeps himself pretty much to himself, even more so since Linda left."

"Linda?"

"His wife. She took off with the two boys a few months back. I didn't know they were having any sort of marital problems but Sheila, my wife, said she heard them shouting at each other occasionally and once she thought she heard Linda crying in the back bedroom."

"Mrs Jarvis has left?"

"Yes. Just packed her bags and moved out with the kids."

The two detectives exchanged glances.

"Have you any idea why Mrs Jarvis left with the children?"

"Haven't a clue I'm afraid. But my wife thinks it may be because Matt was a bit . . . how can I put this . . . a bit too forceful towards his wife."

"You mean he hit her?"

"Well I have no evidence of that but my wife said that she has seen Linda in the garden sporting some nasty bruises on her arms. She did have a lovely black eye a while back but she told Sheila that she had tripped on one of the boy's toys and hit her face on the door frame. My wife was not convinced."

"Do you or your wife have any idea where Mrs Jarvis is living now Mr Reynolds?" asked Martin.

"No, I'm afraid not. She didn't tell anyone she was going, not even Matt. We saw her loading her bags into the back of a taxi."

"I see," said Danny. "What did you talk about when you last saw Mr Jarvis?"

"Nothing much. I'd come out to put the bins out and Matt was on his drive changing the headlight on his car. I came over to see if he needed a hand."

The two detectives looked at each other again.

"Did he say what was wrong with the headlight?" asked Martin.

"He said he was following someone and a stone went through it. It must have been quite a big stone from the size of the hole. I bet he was pretty peeved, that car is his pride and joy."

"Can you describe the vehicle to us please?"

"Yeah, it's an Isuzu Trooper, sort of metallic green. He had lights all across the roof at the front. The back and rear windows have dark tints."

"Does it have bull bars fitted?" asked Martin.

"Not the ones that go right across the front, no. But it does have the shorter ones that are bolted to the front bumper that have spotlights fitted to them."

"I think they're called A-bars or nudge bars or something," said Danny.

"Yes, A-bars that's right," agreed Malcolm, "and they had two bigs spotlights attached to them."

"What colour are the A-bars?" asked Danny.

"Black, to match the bumpers and side steps."

"Can you describe Mr Jarvis to us please Mr Reynolds?"

"Yes, well . . . he's probably about five foot ten, maybe a bit taller, very well built. A very fit man. Oh, and he has short dark hair."

Danny nodded as he wrote down the description.

"Do you know what he does for a living?"

"Ah, well he does nothing at the moment. Linda told my Sheila that Matt was made redundant from his job a while back."

"When exactly?"

"About six months ago now. It must be, because it was about two months before Linda and the boys went."

"Do you know where he worked before he was made redundant?"

"Yes, he worked for Tolland and Rye. You know the big construction company down near Cheddar. They reduced their workforce quite considerably around that time. I suppose the economic downturn meant that less people are buying houses."

"Thank you Mr Reynolds, you've been most helpful." The two detectives started walking towards their vehicle.

"Can I . . . er . . . ask what this is all about? He's not done something wrong has he?"

"Why what makes you say that?" Danny stopped and turned back towards the man.

"Well. He can be a bit of a surly character and I get the impression he has a bit of a short fuse. I could tell he is very upset about Linda leaving, I don't think it was a mutual parting of the ways. I just wondered if he had maybe lost it and done something stupid."

"That's exactly what we are trying to find out too," said Danny. "Thank you again Mr Reynolds. You have been most helpful."

Danny and Martin sat in their car and watched Malcolm and his little dog as they wandered around the back of the next-door property. Danny started the engine and let out a long sigh.

"Well Marty," he smiled. "I think we may have found our killer."

Linda Jarvis was aware of a strange noise and a rocking sensation. Gradually her muddled sense began to clear and she opened her eyes. It took a few seconds for her to realise where she was. Suddenly her mind raced as she recalled all the things that had happened since she got off the bus this morning. She struggled to sit up, her head throbbed and the back of her skull felt very tender.

"You Moron," she shouted. "You'll never get away with this."

"Relax," Jarvis smiled into the rear-view mirror. "I only want to talk things out."

"And you think that by beating me over the head, tying me up and kidnapping me is going to make me change my mind and come back to you do you? Well, if you think that you're an even bigger loser than I thought you were."

"I'm sorry okay? I didn't want to hurt you. I panicked. It was the only way I could think of to get you alone so we can talk."

"That's so typical of you. You can't reason with anyone, you always have to resort to violence. Can't you get it into your thick skull? I don't want to talk, I want to go back to work and I want to get on with my life. WITHOUT YOU."

"But Honey, I know we can work things out. We just have to give it time."

Linda leaned forward between the front seats.

"Matt, you're insane. We are never going to work it out, I don't love you. No, let me rephrase that, I HATE YOU. Even the boys hate you."

She didn't see it coming until it was too late. With lightening speed his hand left the steering wheel, his left arm came back and the elbow connected hard with her mouth. She gave a cry as she spun around and fell back hard against the seat. Her head swam and tears of pain and anger coursed down her face.

"You keep that mouth closed or I'll close it permanently," he spat.

"And you wonder why we hate you," she replied, her bleeding lips already starting to swell.

Linda raised her bound hands to her mouth and winced at the pain as she wiped the blood from her lips with the back of her hand.

"Just keep pushing me and see where it leads," he glowered. The more she goaded him, the angrier he was getting.

"Why? what are you going to do Matt? Rape me and kill me, just like you did those other poor girls."

With a surprised expression he looked at her in the rear-view mirror.

"Yes, that's right. I know it was you who killed those girls. Those murders had your name written all over it."

Jarvis said nothing.

"I knew it was you from the description of the attacker and the car. Then, when I saw the photographs of those poor women I was certain. You sick, murdering piece of shit."

Suddenly, he slammed on the brakes and brought the car to a stop. Climbing out, he opened the rear door. Linda cowered back as far as she could into the seat and put her hands up to her face. With his left hand he grabbed her hands and pulled them down and at the same time punched her hard, three times, in the face. Linda fell unconscious onto the seat. Without a word, Jarvis returned to the driving seat and put the vehicle back in gear.

Forty-five minutes later Jarvis was pulling to a halt, deep in the forest a few yards from his camp. Suddenly, he heard the faint sound of music coming from the foot well. Looking down he saw Linda's handbag. The music must have been coming from her mobile phone. He sat staring at the bag for half a minute and the music stopped.

Linda had, quite some time ago, regained consciousness but remained prostrate with her eyes closed. She thought it safer to let him think she was still unconscious. Her head throbbed and her face hurt like hell, she was sure her nose was broken. She could feel the cold dampness where the blood had soaked into her blouse. Jarvis looked at his wife, shook his head and got out of the car. He left her on the back seat and walked over to his camp. He went into the tent and lay down. He was not worried about her as he was sure she could not escape.

After a few minutes Linda slowly raised her head high enough to look out of the window. She looked at the camp amongst the trees and realised they were in some sort of forest. She looked all around but there was no sign of her husband. Sitting upright, she shuffled along to the middle of the seat then, after another quick look around leaned over the centre console and reached forward with her two bound hands and grabbed her handbag. She struggled back into the seat with her prize and looked around again, still no sign of him. She spent a few seconds fumbling with the zip before pulling the bag open. Rummaging around in the bag she finally found her mobile phone. As she tapped the front panel the screen lit up showing she had a missed call from Sonya. She pressed the call button, dialled 999 and held the handset up to her ear. It rang twice before a woman answered.

" _Emergency, which service do you require_?"

Suddenly, before she could open her mouth to reply, the car door was wrenched open and the handset was snatched from her hand. Jarvis punched her in the side of the head.

"Bitch," he shouted as he threw the handset as far as he could into the dense undergrowth.

Reaching back into the car he grabbed a handful of her hair and dragged her from the vehicle. She screamed and struggled but he was too strong for her. Never in her life had she been so afraid.

Jarvis dragged her over to the camp and dropped her on the ground in front of the tent. Going back to the car he retrieved the ball of nylon cord and, cutting off a good length, dragged her over to a nearby tree and sat her at the base. He then proceeded to tie her arms above her head to an overhanging branch. All the while Linda sobbed quietly. Jarvis didn't utter a single word, he was far too angry with her. He realised that he couldn't trust her yet, she was still too upset. He was sure she would eventually come around, she always did. Once he had shown her how wrong she had been, she would apologise and beg for forgiveness. It was the same every time. He would just give her a little time and space to think about her actions before he tried talking to her again. He went into the tent and lay down again, he had all the time in the world.

Sonya placed her phone back on her desk. Three times she had called Linda's number but there was still no answer. She was starting to get very concerned now. Although she had only known Linda for a few months she was sure that this was very out of character, she knew something was wrong. Getting up from her desk she walked into the adjoining office. A sign on the door announced Robert Finch. Sonya tapped twice on the door and walked in.

"Bob, there's still no reply from her. I'm getting really worried, I'm sure something bad has happened."

Bob Finch looked at his watch.

"Have you called Rowan House?"

"Yes. They confirmed that she took the boys to school as usual. I also rang the school and the secretary checked the register and said that she dropped the boys off on time. All she had to do was get the bus from the school to here."

"Maybe she missed the bus," Bob suggested.

"She could have walked it twice over by now. Besides I just know she would have called me if there had been a problem. I have a really bad feeling about this."

"You think we should call the police?"

"I was wondering that myself. I . . ." Sonya was interrupted by her mobile phone ringing on her desk.

She ran back into the office and snatched it up just before it went to voicemail.

"Hello? Linda?"

"Hello Sonya. No, it's Brenda from Rowan House. Is Linda not with you?"

"Hi Bren. No, I'm worried sick. She seems to have gone missing and she's not answering her phone."

"Sonya, I just had a strange call from the Police."

"Oh God, is everything okay?"

"Well they said that they received a 999 call this morning but nobody spoke when they answered. They traced the number with the phone company and it was Linda's phone. She had temporarily changed her address on her account to here, so they phoned us. Do you know anything about it?"

"No, I've been going out of my mind. She never showed up for work this morning. I called and spoke to Colleen earlier who said that she went off with the boys at the usual time."

"Yes that's right. I saw them, they were leaving just as I arrived."

"I was just wondering if I should call the Police."

"That's probably a good idea, she could be in trouble by the sounds of it."

"I'll call you back if I hear anything Bren, okay?"

"Thanks Sonya, keep us posted, bye Hon."

"Instead of phoning why don't you walk around to the Police Station, it's only around the corner," Bob Finch was standing in the doorway of his office. "It's probably better to talk face to face with them."

"Thanks," said Sonya, lifting her jacket off the coat stand. "I won't be long."

Sonya left the office and took the five minute walk to the main Police Station. The duty desk sergeant looked up from his computer screen as she entered and walked up to the desk.

"Yes Ma'am, can I help you?"

"Yes . . . er, my name is Sonya Rae, I'd like to report a missing person," she replied.

Danny and Martin returned to their office and brought DCI Green up to date with their findings and their suspicions regarding Matthew Jarvis.

"If he has priors then we should have some prints," suggested Green.

"They appear to have gone missing," said Martin. "It seems that a lot of the older records were destroyed for some reason."

"What? That's bloody ridiculous." DCI Green shook his head in disbelief. "So we have nothing to compare the prints against?"

"No Sir. The NPIA Fingerprint Database didn't really take off properly until 2001. His last bit of form was back in 1993 so the records were probably destroyed sometime in the period in between."

"Do you think we have enough to get a warrant to search the premises?" DCI Green sighed.

"Well, he fits the description and so does the vehicle. The neighbour said he saw him changing the headlight on his car. He has a history of violence and he fits the profile perfectly."

"Yeah, hats off to the professor he got that bang on," added Martin.

"Okay, leave that with me then," Green looked at his watch. "Meantime, I think you should concentrate on trying to track down Mrs Jarvis. It would be good to have a chat with her. She may be able to give us some idea about where he might have gone."

The two detectives returned to their desks to start their enquiries. After a while Martin came up with some information about Linda's mother. Picking up the phone he called her landline.

"Well," Martin replaced the receiver after nearly fifteen minutes of talking to Linda's mother. "It seems our Mr Jarvis is definitely a wife beater. The mother told me that Linda Jarvis has been systematically abused for years. There have never been any charges brought against him for domestic violence although Linda has had a quite few trips to casualty in the past. The instances were always put down as some kind of accident."

"She was probably too scared of what he would do to her if she told them what really happened," suggested Danny.

"Her mother reckons Linda and the boys are in a women's refuge somewhere in Bristol or Bath. She says Linda finally snapped when Jarvis started hitting the children."

"So we should get in touch with Social Services and see if we can find out exactly where she's living. Good work Marty."

An hour later they had the full address for Rowan House and decided that they would pay it a visit later that evening.

Danny's desk phone rang. He reached out and put the receiver to his ear.

"Danny Warren."

"Danny," it was DCI Allen Green. "I hope you chaps have nothing planned for this evening."

"Why Sir?"

"Because we've got our warrant, or will have by five o'clock."

"Wow, that was quick work, Sir."

"Well, I put the case for it personally. It is a murder case after all, so we want to move quickly before anyone else gets hurt."

"I'll go and see Andy Shaw and get his team primed."

"Good, keep me informed."

"Yes, Sir."

Linda Jarvis looked at her husband as he prepared something on the camp cooker. Her whole body ached and she wondered how long he would keep her bound up like this. She knew that he was expecting her to beg for forgiveness, God knows she'd done that so many times over the years since they'd been married. This time was different though, she would not be giving in to him. She knew it was a dangerous game but she was willing to play it. She had already resigned herself to the fact that he was probably going to kill her, so why make it easy for him. She had to make him realise that no matter what he did to her he could never win her back. Matthew Jarvis looked across to her and smiled.

"Hungry?" he asked.

Linda turned her head away from him and said nothing. She hadn't eaten anything since breakfast and she was starving hungry but would not give him the satisfaction of knowing it. She decided that the only way she could get out of this situation was to make him think that he was winning her over. Once he had reached the point where he thought he could trust her again she may be able to attempt some sort of escape.

Her arms, suspended above her head, were going numb and she desperately needed to move them to get the circulation back into her hands.

"I need to pee," she stated.

"You'll have to wait," he replied.

"No, I need to pee NOW. If you don't untie me I'll be forced to pee all over your little scout camp."

Jarvis thought about it for a minute and then took the pan off the stove and placed it on the grass. He got up, walked over to her and untied the rope that bound her hands to the branch. Her arms dropped limply into her lap. Linda rolled sideways and tried to push herself up but she had no feeling in her hands and arms. Jarvis looked at her and laughed.

"Help me up then you moron," she hissed.

Still laughing he reached down, put his hand under her armpit and hauled her to her feet. She stood looking at him with utter contempt.

"How am I supposed to walk with my feet tied up?"

Grinning, he knelt down and untied her feet. She contemplated kicking him in the face but thought better of it. Standing up again, he grabbed her upper arm and pushed her forward. They walked into the undergrowth a few yards from the camp and he stopped.

"Go here," he commanded.

"Clear off or turn your back then," she said.

"No way," he laughed.

"Ignorant pig," she muttered and walked a few more yards before turning her back to him, sliding her panties down and squatting in the grass.

He watched her until she finally stood up, pulled up her panties and adjusted her dress. She turned and walked straight past him and back towards the camp. The feeling was starting to come back into her arms now and she was getting pins and needles.

Instead of sitting back down by the tree she sat cross-legged on the grass in front of the tent, Jarvis said nothing. He followed her back to the camp and took his seat beside the cooker once more.

He hadn't tied her legs up and he hadn't tied her to the tree again. Linda felt she had won a very minor victory. Jarvis smiled to himself. See, she was coming around to him slowly. She was not making a fuss, she didn't try to run off. She returned to the camp of her own free will and sat by the tent. He could just feel that she was mellowing towards him.

Jarvis took two plastic plates and scooped something from the saucepan onto each of them. He handed the plate to Linda together with a spoon. She thought about telling him where to put it but her hunger got the better of her. She reached up with her bound hands and took the plate, placing it on her lap. Then she took the spoon and looked at the meal before her. It was a mixture of minced beef, onions, tinned tomatoes and tinned peas. It tasted a lot better than it looked. She winced at the pain in her mouth as she tried to chew. With every mouthful it made her even more determined that she was not going to give in to him. Jarvis grabbed a beer from the cool box beside him. He knew she didn't drink alcohol so opened a can of diet Pepsi and handed it to her. Linda held the cold can to her cut and swollen face, the feel of the icy condensation on her skin was exquisite.

"Do you have any Paracetemol?" she asked.

"Why?"

"Why? Oh, let me think. Maybe it's because some vicious prick punched me several times in the face and now I have a friggin'headache," she looked at him with disgust.

Not saying a word, he reached into a pouch on his rucksack and pulled out a small first aid kit. Opening it up, he took out a box of tablets and handed it to her. She popped two of the pills out of the foil and put them in her mouth, swallowing them down with a good swig of Pepsi. Hopefully, it wouldn't be too long before they would take effect and give her some relief.

At five-thirty sharp, two police cars and two SOCO vans pulled to a halt in front of Matthew Jarvis's house. A dark blue Vauxhall Vectra arrived less than a minute later and drove up onto the drive. DS Danny Warren, DC Martin Jackson and DCI Allen Green alighted from the vehicle. DCI Green stood in front of the garage doors facing the assembled team of police and forensics officers. A few of the neighbours had seen the arrival of the police and came out of their houses to see what was going on.

Danny and Martin went straight to the front door, rang the bell and knocked the door. Getting no response they returned to DCI Green.

"Sergeant Anderson, I want you and one other to go and have a word with the neighbours to see if we can get any more background on this suspect." DCI Green addressed a very tall uniformed officer at the front of the group. "See if times and dates of his comings and goings match any of the abductions etc."

He then turned to one of the other uniformed officers.

"Andrews, can you stand guard out here? The rest of you wait here. Danny, it's probably best if we gain access around the back isn't it?"

"Just what I was thinking, Sir. We don't really want an audience," Danny replied.

The three detectives made their way around the side of the house to the back gate. Fortunately, it was unlocked so they entered the garden at the rear of the property. They were accompanied by another of the uniformed officers carrying a 'Persuader', a heavy-looking metal battering ram used for bashing down doors.

Looking at the back of the house they decided that the best mode of entry was through a glass panel in the back door. The uniformed officer dropped the Persuader on to the glass and took out his baton. He approached the door and, shielding his face with his left arm, smashed the glass in the door. Then, reaching in through the hole, unlocked the back door and pushed it open.

Danny was the first to enter and slowly made his way through the kitchen into the hall. After a quick glance into the lounge he continued to the front door which he opened to allow entry to the rest of the team.

"You SOCO guys can come in now. Thanks."

Andy Shaw and two of his team entered carrying their forensics kits. Putting his case on the floor Andy turned to his team.

"Barry can you process the bathroom? We are looking for prints and hair samples or anything else that we can get a DNA sample from. Clive, can you do the bedrooms for the same things please? Also can you see if we can find any latent prints for this chap or anything else that may tie him in to these crimes? Once you're done can the pair of you have a go in the kitchen please?" then, turning to Danny and the other detectives. "Can you chaps try to stay in the hallway for now please, just until we've finished?"

The two forensics officers went upstairs to set about their allotted tasks and Andy, picking up his case entered the lounge. He stood in the centre of the room and surveyed his surroundings. At one end of the room was a dining area with a smoked-glass dining table. Walking over to it he bent over to study the surface. The table had been recently cleaned and the surface was spotless. He remembered his old boss telling him of a case he had worked where they had a glass table. Andy grinned to himself and pulled the chairs away from the table. Opening his case he took out his squirrel-hair brush and a small pot of magnesium powder.

Danny was leaning on the door frame watching his friend with fascination. It surprised him to see Andy sit down on the floor underneath the table.

"What are you doing?" he asked.

Andy laughed.

"People always clean the top surface of their glass-topped tables but very few think to clean the underside," he said, dipping the brush into the magnesium powder and brushing it gently onto the surface of the glass. "When people get up from the table they invariably grab the edge to support themselves as they stand up. I can see quite a few prints coming up already."

"Clever," remarked Danny.

"These prints seem to be a little small, more like a child's. Does he have kids?"

"Yes, two young boys."

Andy continued to work his way around the table and was able to extract several sets of adult prints that he hoped would be good enough. Standing up again, he looked across the room and saw the TV remote on the arm of the settee.

"Another good source of prints," he said as he turned it over and proceeded to dust the underside of the controller. Immediately, several good prints were revealed. "My guess is that our suspect was the Master of the Remote in this house. These prints have got to be his."

When he had finished in the lounge Andy and Danny went into the study whilst Martin and DCI Green entered the garage through a door that lead from the kitchen. A few of minutes later, Martin stuck his head around the study door.

"Andy, have you got a sec? There's something I think you may like to have a look at."

Andy and Danny followed Martin into the garage where DCI green was peering into a large bin on one side of the room. Andy walked over to where Green stood and looked into the receptacle.

"Oh wow," he grinned. "I think we may have hit the jackpot."

Looking around he saw a roll of dustbin liners on the workbench.

"Danny, can you peel off a couple of those bags and lay them on the floor over here please Mate?"

Danny did as requested and bought them to his friend who carefully reached into the bin and pulled out a large dark object. At first Danny couldn't make out what it was but, as Andy turned it, he saw the glass front and realised that it was the broken headlight from Jarvis's car. Andy lay the lamp down carefully on one of the bags.

"Dan, can you be a pal and get my case from the study please?"

Whilst Danny went to fetch the forensics kit, Andy picked up the bin and emptied the contents onto the other bin liner very gently, so as not to lose anything. He sat on the floor beside the pile and took a pair of tweezers out of the top pocket of his overalls.

"Can we have some more lights on in here please?" he asked.

Martin found a mains-powered inspection lamp on the work bench. He clamped it to a shelf above Andy's head and plugged it in.

"Perfect, thanks Mart."

Slowly and carefully, Andy sifted through the debris and extracted several tiny shards of glass which he put to one side.

"Christ, by looks of all that fluff and crap he must have emptied the entire contents of his bloody vacuum cleaner in there," Green observed.

"I know, wonderful isn't it?" smiled Andy. "It's not everyday a suspected gives us so much possible evidence in one place."

Danny returned and deposited Andy's case next to him.

"Cheers Mate."

Opening the case, Andy took out some self-sealing bags. He scooped up the glass shards and dropped them in one, sealed it and wrote on a label which he affixed to the side of the bag before placing it in a compartment in the case.

Andy then set about transferring as much of the fluff and fibres as he could into a larger bag which he also labelled. When he was finished he carefully folded the bin liner and placed that in another sealable bag. Then he turned his attention to the headlight unit. Even before he had dusted the headlight Andy could see several greasy fingerprints on the lens and on the rear of the unit. He carefully wrapped the headlight in the bin liner and placed the whole lot into a very large bag which he sealed and labelled. Looking around he saw a cardboard box. Danny followed his gaze and walked over and looked into the box. All it contained was a packet of sanding discs. Danny took these out and placed them on the workbench and handed the box to Andy. Andy loaded the headlamp into the box and, with a grin, handed it back to Danny.

Whilst Andy carried on looking around in the garage, Danny carried the box back into the house and made his way to the hallway. As he was placing the box on the floor by the front door, a phone in the lounge started ringing. He walked into the lounge and stood looking down at the handset cradled in the main unit. The phone rang several times and he considered answering it. He reached out to pick it up when the ringing stopped. He turned to see DCI Green and Martin in the doorway. He was just about to walk away when the answer-phone kicked in. A woman's voice made the announcement.

" . . . _Sorry, Matt and Linda are not at home to answer your call right now. If you'd like to leave your name and number after the tone, we'll get back to you. Thanks_ . . . "

This was followed by two short beeps and a long one. Danny looked back at the handset as a man cleared his throat and started to leave a message.

"This is a message for Mr Matthew Jarvis. Mr Jarvis my name is Sergeant Bryn Jenkins of Bristol Police. We had a call today with regards to your wife, Mrs Linda Jarvis. It appears that she did not show up for work today so . . ."

Danny picked up the handset.

"Hello?"

"Oh, Hello . . . Mr Jarvis?"

"No, this is Detective Sergeant Danny Warren from Wiltshire Constabulary."

"Oh . . . Have you already gone around there to ask about his wife then?"

"No. We have a search warrant for the premises."

"Now I'm totally confused," Sergeant Jenkins sounded very perplexed.

"What was your call about Sarge?" asked Danny.

"A young lady came to the station this morning and reported Mrs Linda Jarvis missing. Apparently, she lives in a hostel for battered women in Clifton. She took her two kids to school but never made it as far as her place of work. Her friend, Sonya Rae came in just before lunch and reported her missing. She had called the refuge and the school and it would seem that Mrs Jarvis disappeared somewhere between the school and her office. There was a dropped 999 call made from Mrs Jarvis's mobile phone at about ten-thirty this morning. The Operator said that she heard someone shout and then there was a loud noise and the call terminated."

"Any luck finding a cell site on it?"

"Not yet. Someone spoke to their SPOC officer who completed a RIPA request and the phone network's Police Liaison Team said they will try to get the info from the network, but God knows how long that's likely to take. I've asked them to get back to me as soon as they find anything out."

"Great, do you have an address and phone number for Miss Rae? I think I'd like to go and have a chat to her myself."

Sergeant Jenkins read out the details while Danny jotted them down in his notebook.

"Why exactly are you chaps searching Mr Jarvis's house anyway."

"He's the prime suspect in a murder investigation."

"Oh bugger!"

"Exactly. Look Bryn, if you hear anything can you keep me posted?"

"Sure, what's your number?"

Danny gave the sergeant his contact details and hung up the phone. By this time the others were in the room and had been listening to one side of the conversation. Danny filled them in on what had happened and, leaving the rest to finish off the search, he and Martin got in their car. After a quick phone call to Sonya Rae, Danny reversed off the drive and headed off down the road.

Matthew Jarvis pottered around the camp, tidying and checking guy ropes. He was running out of things to do to keep busy. He and Linda had hardly exchanged a word since their meal earlier in the afternoon. She had remained silent and he didn't want to start discussions with her until he was sure she was suitably responsive. He knew his silent treatment would wear her down, it always had in the past. Jarvis looked at his wrist watch, it was nearly six o'clock in the evening. He wandered over to the car and climbed into the passenger side. The news would be on shortly so he was interested to hear if there had been any developments in the murders. Jarvis retuned the radio to a local channel as they were more likely to have updates than the mainstream stations. After a few minutes of listening to some God-awful music and a handful of adverts the Radio News bulletin started. He listened intently as the main news stories were read out then the announcer turned to more local news.

" . . . _Inquiries are continuing into the rapes and murders of two young women in the Shellington area. Police sources revealed today that the missing shoes belonging to one of the victims, twenty-three year old Rebecca Reid, had been discovered in Culverson Park. In the same area, the victim's necklace was also discovered. The police have confirmed that Miss Reid was murdered in the park and her body later dumped in Barrington Woods where it was discovered a few days later by a local couple, Mike and Judith Robinson, who were out walking their dogs._

It was also announced that fingerprints and DNA evidence found at the murder scenes lead Police to believe that both murders are the work of the same person.

Police have described the suspect as being of stocky build, about six feet tall, with short dark hair. He was last seen wearing an Olive Green T-shirt and camouflage combat trousers. He is believed to drive a green or brown Isuzu Trooper with roof lights and bull bars fitted. If anyone sees a man or vehicle answering this description they are requested to call 999 immediately. Under no circumstances should the man be approached by a member of the public as Police have described him as extremely dangerous.

_Other news now and in the House of Commons_ . . ."

Jarvis reached forward and turned off the radio. He sat back in the passenger seat and let out a long sigh. Although he had his concerns it seems that he had covered his tracks well, the Police still had no evidence to link the crimes to him. He grinned to himself and glanced out of the window at his wife who was sitting in front of the tent looking straight at him as he sat in his car. He could see the contempt on her face and knew he had a lot of ground to make up if he was to win her back. She had accused him of killing those girls, how could she know? She had no proof. She probably only said that as a way of getting back at him. Still, it unnerved him a little.

Climbing out of the car Jarvis returned to the camp and sat down in his chair. He noticed her staring at him as he lowered his huge frame into the seat.

"What?" he asked.

"I take it they still haven't got enough evidence to pin those murders on you yet then?"

"I didn't do those murders," he looked away from her gaze.

"You're a liar," Linda snapped. "The description, the car, the whole vicious attack, it had your trade mark written all over it. You did it to get back at me didn't you? Christ, the women even looked like me."

"Shut up. You don't know what you're talking about."

"What do you want from me, Matt? Can't you get it through your thick skull that we are finished? I will never, NEVER come back to you."

He turned and looked at her again.

"We just need a little time to . . ."

"NO," she shouted. "No amount of time is going to make me change my mind, Matt. Can't you see that? You've gone too far this time."

"But Honey . . ."

"Listen Matt, I don't care what you do to me. I don't even care if you kill me like you did those poor girls. Either way, me and the boys will be free of you."

"You've turned the boys against me," he accused her.

"No Matt, you did that all by yourself."

"No."

"Do you know what Thomas said to me the other day? He said, 'I'm glad Daddy doesn't live here with us. He scares me.' Even your own children are frightened of you Matt."

"Liar," he swung his right arm out with lightening speed in her direction.

Linda saw it coming and tried to dodge the blow but the back of his closed fist connected with her temple and she fell back on to the grass. She lay there for a few seconds before slowly pulling herself back to the sitting position.

"I'm not lying, Matt," she said softly. "You're sick. You need help. You can't go through the rest of your life striking out at everyone. You need to be able to control your aggression. You're not just hurting other people, you're hurting yourself. Can't you see that you're turning everyone who ever loved you, against you because you can't control your violence."

Jarvis turned and looked at her again, a real sadness in his expression.

"I really did love you Matt, so did the boys. But that loved died a little bit more with every beating you dished out. The boys could see what you were doing to me, they're not stupid. And each time they got more and more scared of you. When you hit Elliot that day, I could see the extent of that fear in their faces. For the first time I saw just how frightened they were of you and I was scared of what you might do to them, Matt. I put up with the beatings for years because I wanted us to be a proper family. I wanted the boys' lives to be as normal as possible. But it wasn't normal was it, Matt? Each day they were growing more and more afraid of their own father. I had to get them away from you for their own safety."

Matthew Jarvis stared at the ground in front of him and said nothing. Linda decided to give him a little space and time to let him think about what she had just said. Slowly, she got to her feet walked over to the tree, to which he had first bound her, and sat down, her back to the trunk. Jarvis never raised his head.

Danny Warren and Martin Jackson sat with Sonya Rae at the table in the kitchen of her home in Bristol. She had explained to them everything she knew about Linda and her reasons for coming to the shelter. She also told them the events that lead up to her making the missing persons report.

"Have you any idea where she could have gone or why?" asked Danny picking up his coffee mug.

"No, like I said. I have only known Linda for a few short months but in that time we have become very close friends and I am certain that she would not just take off without telling anyone. Besides, she would never leave her kids."

"Ah, yes, the boys. Has someone taken care of them?"

"Yes, someone collected them from school and taken them back to Rowan House," explained Sonya. "As far as they know, Linda has gone to see her mother who's not well. We're trying no to worry the children at this stage."

"When was the last time you spoke to Linda?"

"Last evening. I popped over to the house as I do most evenings. I started my new life at Rowan House as well."

Danny looked surprised.

"I've not always been this self-confident young woman you know," laughed Sonya. "I came out of a very violent relationship. Thanks to my lovely boyfriend I was hospitalised and when I told the doctors what had really happened, Social Services spirited me away before my ex could drag me back home. I didn't press charges, I knew I should have but I couldn't face seeing him again, even in court. The girls at Rowan House were wonderful to me. They made me see that I was not alone and there were lots of others to talk to who had been through the same shit. Oh, sorry."

Danny and Martin laughed.

"Anyway, once I was back on my feet I decided that I would keep in touch with the refuge to talk to other women and try to help them like I was helped."

"Very commendable," smiled Danny.

"I don't know about that. I just wanted to give something back, you know?" The two detectives nodded.

"So when you saw Linda last evening, did she seem . . . out of sorts or troubled?"

"No, she was her usual chirpy self."

"So, nothing to make you think she was concerned or worried about anything. Nothing unusual at all in her behaviour?"

Sonya thought for a moment, then her expression changed.

"There was just one thing," she continued, "It's probably nothing. We were in the lounge watching TV and chatting to some of the other girls and the News came on. There was a news bulletin all about those terrible murders near Shellington. Well, as you know, Linda used to live in Middle Compton, not far from Shellington. They showed a picture of the two murder victims and one of the girls passed a comment that she thought it was the sort of thing her ex would do. Another of the girls laughed and said to Linda that she was lucky she didn't live there any more as she could have been a target because the victims had a similar appearance to her."

The two detectives exchanged glances.

"Did she say anything about the murders?" asked Martin.

"No," Sonya replied. "Linda suddenly went quiet and said she was tired and went to bed. It was strange because she was fine up until then."

"Do you know if Linda has spoken to, or had any contact with, her estranged husband since she has been at Rowan House?"

"Not to my knowledge, no. I'm sure she would have told me if she had. She was afraid that if he found out where she was he would come and get her back." Sonya suddenly looked horrified. "Oh, my God! You don't think that's what's happened do you? That he found out where she was and has dragged her off somewhere? Oh, my God, the poor thing."

"We're not saying that, we honestly don't know." Danny tried to reassure her. "I will be perfectly honest with you, Sonya. We are the lead investigators in the Shellington murders and we are exploring all possibilities. Matthew Jarvis is one of several people we would very much like to speak to. We have no proof that he was involved in any way, but we have to explore all avenues. When we heard of his history of violence and that his wife had suddenly gone missing we thought it prudent to try to get as much information as possible about it, to see if there was a connection."

"So you do think it was him then?"

"That's not what I'm saying," Danny started.

"You do. You think it's him and now he has got Linda. Oh, my God!" Sonya was on the verge of tears.

Danny did his best to calm her down and reassure her that everything was being done to try to find Linda and return her safely to her children.

"One thing I must ask you is to please treat our conversation in the strictest confidence. If Matthew Jarvis is involved in any way, in either the murders or Linda's disappearance, then the last thing we want is for our suspicions to become public knowledge. If he learns that we even suspect him then we have no idea how far he will go to protect himself or cover his tracks. Our main concern at the moment is for Linda's safety and the safety of others. Do you understand?"

"Yes, yes, of course. I won't say a word."

Danny and Martin rose from the table. Sonya reached out and put a hand on Danny's arm.

"Please," she asked. "Will you promise me you'll let me know as soon as you have any news about Linda?"

"Of course," Danny agreed, he covered her hand with his own and smiled. "You know, Linda is extremely lucky to have you as a friend Sonya."

"Thank you," she smiled back.

As he got to the door Danny produced a card from his pocket and handed it to her.

"If you hear anything from Linda before we do, or remember anything else that may be of use then please, call me on this number okay?"

She studied the card and nodded. After the detectives left she programmed Danny's number into her phone so she wouldn't have to look it up.

The following morning Danny came into the office early. After getting a coffee from the canteen he sat down at his desk to go through the statement that Sonya Rae had made the previous evening. He had been impressed by Sonya and felt that she was a real asset to Rowan House. This tall, slender, beautiful young woman had the outward appearance of the traditional airhead, but this blonde was definitely not dumb. She was a very intelligent and capable young lady and he admired her for managing to extricate herself from her abusive relationship and turning her life around.

He walked across the office and entered the incident room. At the far end was a large, portable display board to which were attached photographs of the victims and crime scenes together with various printouts. There was also a local map attached to the board marked with red circles representing the various crime scenes, residences, etc. Next to the display was a white board used for writing down facts and ideas during their many brain-storming sessions on the case.

Danny walked up to the display and studied it for a few moments. Under the heading "VICTIMS" were photographs of the two murdered girls together with one of Marta Rinikova. Danny pinned a photograph of Linda Jarvis next to Marta. To the right of this there was a heading that read "SUSPECTS" under which was a list of the possible suspects he and Martin had drawn up. He unpinned this and put it to one side. In its place he attached a photograph of Matthew Jarvis they had found during the search of his house. He stepped back and sat in one of the chairs, looking at the board. He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn't hear the man come into the room behind him until he spoke.

"Someone said they had seen you lurking about."

Danny jumped in his seat and turned around to see Andy Shaw standing a few feet away, a large manila folder in his hand.

"Christ Andy, I was miles away then," Danny laughed.

"Sorry, didn't mean to startle you. You look very smart today."

"It's Rebecca Reid's funeral today." He replied. "Martin and I are going along to pay our respects and show a bit of solidarity to the family. What are you doing in at this time of day anyway?"

"I came in to finish off my report from the search of the Jarvis house yesterday. My lads stayed up most of the night processing all the evidence just so you lot could have it in your sweaty hands this morning."

"And?" Danny reached out to take the folder from his friend.

"And," Andy held the folder tantalisingly close to Danny's fingers. "It looks as if you boys have found your murderer. Well done, Mate."

"Seriously?" Danny couldn't believe his ears.

"Yep. Some of the prints taken, especially the ones from the TV remote, were a positive match to the ones taken from Rebecca Reid's trainers. The other samples are at the labs and I am certain that they will confirm a DNA match in due course. I've stressed to them the urgency of the case. Also I managed to match up the broken glass, found in the road behind Denise Foley's car, with the broken headlight unit found in Jarvis's garage. There is no doubt that the glass definitely came from the same headlight."

"That's brilliant," Danny snatched the folder from his friend's hand and started to read.

"Oh, and you remember the red fibres found on Rebecca Reid's clothing? Well, I'm pretty sure that they are from some kind of travel blanket as there were loads of those and the beige fibres mixed in with the rest of the crap in the bin. My guess is he vacuumed out the back of his car at some point."

Danny looked at his friend and grinned. He was so relieved that they now knew for definite who the killer was. All that remained was to catch him. Andy smiled and turned to go.

"Oh, nearly forgot," he said stopping just before he reached the door. "After you nipped off yesterday, I went through the contents of the study. In an address book there was the name and number for a local dentist. I put the details in the file. You may want to apply for a warrant to get hold of the dental records for Jarvis so we can match them against the bite marks on Denise Foley."

"Will do, thanks Andy. Thanks a lot."

"You're welcome," Andy grinned and left the room.

Danny took the folder back to his desk and read through it thoroughly. He was amazed at how much details Andy had gone to in order to piece together the evidence for them. By the time Martin Jackson and DCI Green had arrived, Danny had read the report from cover to cover several times.

"Why are you looking like the cat that's got the cream?" asked Allen Green as he walked towards his office.

"Because we have a positive match on the killer," beamed Danny.

"What?" gaped Martin.

DCI Green stopped dead as his hand grasped the handle of his office door.

"Jarvis?" he asked, turning towards Danny.

"Jarvis," confirmed Danny. "Prints match those on the trainers."

"What about the DNA?"

"Andy Shaw said they were at the labs and he'd requested a priority on them."

"Well I'll be damned. So your hunch was right. Well done lads, well done."

"The only downside is that we have no idea where the bugger is," commented Martin.

"And I'm pretty sure he has Linda Jarvis with him," said Danny. "We have to find them fast, her life could be in danger."

"Right," DCI Green rubbed his hands together." You put the word out that he is to be detained at all costs. In the mean time, I'll chase up the labs for those results."

"You haven't forgotten that it's Rebecca Reid's funeral at eleven thirty this morning have you, Sir?" asked Danny.

"Damn, completely slipped my mind. Okay, let's see what we can get done before we leave. We'll just go to the service and then make our excuses."

"I'm sure the family will understand. Our presence at the service will be enough, I think."

Danny picked up his phone and dialled a number from his pad.

"Oh Hello, Detective Sergeant Danny Warren here, can I speak to Sergeant Bryn Jenkins please."

"Bryn speaking, hello Danny."

"Hi Bryn, any news on Linda Jarvis?"

"None I'm afraid. I take it you chaps haven't got anything either?"

"Sadly, no. We had a chat with Sonya Rea last evening. A very impressive young lady."

"Indeed," agreed Bryn.

"So, Bryn. Have the phone company managed to locate where the call originated yet?"

"They had nothing as of last evening. They said something about trying to ping the handset, whatever that means."

"Yeah, I've heard of that. It's where they send a signal down to the phone and when it comes back they can tell which phone mast it bounces off."

"What if the phone is turned off?"

"Apparently, it doesn't matter if the phone is on or off, it still works."

"Oh, too clever for me to comprehend, I'm afraid."

"Bryn, we are sure that Matthew Jarvis has got Linda Jarvis. We are also sure that her life could be in danger. It's our best hope of trying to locate them."

"Well, I'll give you a ring as soon as I hear anything from them okay?"

"Thanks Bryn, I appreciate it. Bye."

At eleven o'clock Danny, Martin and Allen Green drove the short distance to the Crematorium on the outskirts of Shellington. There were already a few mourners gathered outside the building when they arrived. Within ten minutes of their arrival, the funeral procession turned in at the gates and made its way slowly to the entrance of the chapel. The shiny black hearse carrying the coffin pulled to a halt outside the door and the second car carrying Rebecca's parents, sister and Rebecca's fiancé, Brian Taylor, pulled in behind. The family alighted from their vehicles and waited for the Funeral Director and his team to open the rear door of the hearse.

The door was opened and as the wreaths and flowers were being removed from on top and around the coffin, James Reid and his wife came over to the Police Officers.

"Detective Warren, Gentlemen, so good of you to come," Mr Reid shook Danny's hand warmly.

"We wanted to pay our respects to Rebecca and also reassure the family that we are still working hard to bring Becky's killer to justice." Danny shook Susan Reid's hand.

"We really do appreciate it," she said, barely managing to hold back the tears.

"We may have some positive information to share with you very soon," reassured DCI Green, shaking James Reid's hand.

"You know who did it?" he asked.

"Well, nothing is confirmed but we have a suspect and we are doing everything possible to bring him in."

"That's wonderful news, thank you."

"As I said, nothing is confirmed."

"You've given us hope Chief Inspector, that's the main thing."

The funeral attendants eased the casket out of the limousine and it was taken up on the shoulders of the pallbearers. Mr and Mrs Reid excused themselves and made their way to the head of the line where they followed the coffin into the chapel. The family, friends and Rebecca's work colleagues who made up the remainder of the mourners followed the procession and took up their places in the pews. The three detectives waited until last and seated themselves at the rear of the chapel.

After a short but none-the-less very moving service, the casket disappeared behind the silver curtain and the mourners filed out quietly, to look at the wreaths and flowers that had been displayed in a small outside courtyard, to one side of the chapel. Danny and his colleagues said their condolences to the family and apologised for not being able to return to the Reid's house for the informal gathering that was to follow.

"That's quite all right gentlemen, we understand," said James Reid shaking their hands once more. "We just appreciate that you took time out from your busy workload to come and say goodbye to Becky. It means a lot to us."

"It means a lot to me too, Mr Reid," said Danny sincerely.

"We are so glad it was you who found Becky's car Mr Warren," said Susan Reid. "If it had been somebody else they might have stolen her handbag or even the car. Then we would have had no evidence."

DCI Green was the last to shake James Reid's hand.

"Rest assured, we will not stop until we have the culprit behind bars," he said. "And, I can assure you Mr Reid, when we have made an arrest I will make sure that you are given the good news."

"Thank you, Chief Inspector."

The three detectives walked back to their car and made the short journey back to Police Headquarters.

As they walked in to the office a young female officer approached them. She looked at Danny and smiled.

"Sir, a Sergeant Bryn Jenkins called from Bristol Police. Said he had some news for you."

"That's excellent, thanks Amanda," Danny dropped into his chair and picked up the phone.

Within a few minutes he had the coordinates for the cell tower that had picked up the signal bouncing back from Linda Jarvis's mobile phone. Danny picked up the Post-it on which he had written the details and walked into the incident room, followed by Martin and DCI Green.

Danny consulted the Ordnance Survey map and then rechecked his note. He shook his head and studied the map once more.

"According to the information from the phone network, the mast that received the last signal from Linda Jarvis's phone was here." He pushed a coloured pin into the exact spot on the map where the mobile phone cell was located.

The other two detectives stepped forward and examined the pin's location.

"Are you sure?" asked the Chief Inspector.

"Yes Sir."

"But it's in the middle of nowhere," said Martin.

"No it's not, its right on the edge of Barrington Woods, where he dumped the body of Becky Reid."

"Christ, so it is," Green had a closer look at the map.

"He must know that forest like the back of his hand to have known where to dump her body," observed Danny.

"Do you think he's hiding out in the forest?" asked Green.

"Could be. He is the outdoor type. Also there was a box in his garage that a camp kitchen had come in, but I didn't see any camping equipment in the house, did you?"

The others agreed that they hadn't noticed any.

"But, just supposing he has set up camp in the woods, that forest is bloody huge, we'd never find him," Martin slumped into one of the chairs.

"Not on foot, no," agreed DCI Green. "But maybe from the air we could. I'll have a word with the Western Counties Air Ops unit and see if I can rustle up the helicopter."

Allen Green turned and walked back to his office to make his calls. Fifteen minutes later he returned looking very pleased with himself.

"The chopper is currently on its way to Gloucester Royal Hospital with an RTA victim. As soon as it's released it will be heading down to us. I've had a chat with the Superintendent. We're getting all roads and tracks leading in or out of the forest blocked off. The Forestry Commission will identify all of those for us. They are also going to supply us with a large-scale map showing all tracks, used and unused, throughout the forest. There are a couple of dozen uniforms assigned to us and I've also asked for a dog team to be on stand-by. Unless you chaps have anything better to do I think you should get over to the forest and wait for the helicopter. You can split the men up into teams and place them at different areas around the forest. The chopper will over-fly the whole area and if they see anything suspicious they can guide in the teams on the ground. I'll stay here and coordinate the operation. Any problems or you need more officers, let me know immediately, okay?"

"Yes Sir."

Danny and Martin were impressed at how quickly and efficiently DCI Green had taken the initiative and organised the whole operation.

"I don't know about you but I'm going to change my clothes before we go," said Danny.

"Good idea," agreed Martin. "Don't want to ruin my suit."

With a sense of growing excitement the two men made their way to the changing room where they each had uniforms and riot clothing stashed away. Opening their lockers they quickly changed into their riot shirts and trousers. They also clipped on their utility belts containing handcuffs, mobile phone holder, Radio and extendable baton. They ran wires up inside their shirts for their microphone and earpieces before climbing into their Kevlar stab-proof vests. Finally, they changed into sturdy boots. Leaving the changing rooms they made their way to the armoury where they booked out a taser and some pepper spray canisters. Clipping the taser and holster to his belt Danny looked at his colleague.

"Okay? It's Showtime," he laughed.

"Eddie Murphy does that so much better," laughed Martin.

Linda Jarvis spent a painful, terrifying and uncomfortable night. After she had told her husband the home truths he had fallen into a depression fuelled by the number of beers he had consumed during the course of the evening. As the evening wore on he came over to her and started to apologise, saying he would change and that he would never harm her or the children again if she would only agree to come back to him. The more she tried to explain that it was too late, the more agitated he had become until finally, he snapped. He hit her so hard in the face that her head flew back and connected with the tree trunk, knocking her unconscious. She was only out for a few minutes but when she awoke she was lying on the ground her hands bound above her head, to the tree.

Jarvis was over by the camp kitchen. He stood up and, as he turned, she saw the hunting knife. He slid the knife into his belt and bent down again to pick up two large tent pegs and a mallet. She had no idea what he was planning to do but she feared the worst. A short distance away from her, using the mallet, he hammered one of the tent pegs into the ground. Moving over to the other side of her he hammered the other peg into the ground. He threw the mallet back over towards the camp cooker. As he approached her Linda kicked out at him but Jarvis was too fast and grabbed her leg. Hanging on to it he knelt down and grabbed her other ankle. He sat on her legs, so she couldn't move then, and took a small ball of cord from his back pocket. Taking his knife from his belt he cut two lengths of the cord and tied one length around each of her ankles. Grabbing her left foot he pulled it out to the left and tied the chord to the tent peg. Then he moved over and pulled her legs as wide apart as he could before tying off the other foot.

"Please, Matt. Please, don't do anything stupid," she begged.

He ignored her and took the knife from his belt once more and looked down at her.

"Oh, God. No, please. I beg you. Matt please, don't."

Jarvis stepped across her and straddled her as she stared up into his face. He took a tea towel from another pocket and knelt so that he was sitting stride her torso.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, not really wanting to know the answer.

He lifted up her head and used the tea towel to fashion a gag around her mouth. Tears coursed down the side of her face as she trembled under his touch.

"I'm going to take what's mine," he grinned.

He slid the blade of his knife under the top of her dress and pulled upwards. The sharpened blade cut easily through the light summer fabric. He stuck the knife into the ground and took the cut material in each hand. Then, standing up, he ripped the dress from top to bottom, dragging it off her and throwing it into the bushes. Linda let out a muffled cry and sobbed helplessly. Looking down at her as she lay in just her bra and panties, Jarvis licked his lips and picked up the knife once more. He let out a short laugh and, turning the blade away from her flesh, he placed the tip of his knife between the cups of her bra and gently slid it along until the flimsy lace snapped and fell away. Then quickly cutting the straps, pulled her bra off. He grabbed two handfuls of her breasts. He was pleased that she had put on a bit of weight as her breasts were fuller than he remembered. Linda lay frozen to the spot, now too frightened to even cry. He lifted up the lace front of her panties and cut them off her. Lifting them up to his nose, he breathed in the scent of his wife.

He could feel his erection straining at the front of his trousers. He tossed the panties to one side and pulled off his T-shirt. Dropping it on the ground he started to unbuckle his belt. It was then that Linda realised that he wasn't going to kill her, not yet anyway. He had something completely different in mind. As he stripped off his boots and trousers, she started to struggle, desperately trying to free one of her feet, but it was no use. As he stood naked before her she braced herself for the inevitable.

He raped her three times over the next two hours, before he finally retreated to the tent and fell asleep. The first time he raped her she had struggled in the vain attempt to make him realise that she did not want it. She had hoped that some small spark of decency inside him might bring him to his senses. She was wrong. Instead he had done what he always did, resorted to violence. She was sure her cheek was broken and she could taste blood from where she had bitten her tongue during one of his blows. At one point she had a coughing fit as she swallowed what she was sure was one of her own teeth. The gag in her mouth made it difficult as she fought for breath while she choked. Jarvis just laughed and carried on raping her. At last the coughing had subsided and she passed out from the effort.

At the hands of her own husband, Linda Jarvis had lain trussed up, gagged and spread-eagled, naked on the grass all night. The pain in her face and between her legs was intense and she swam in and out of consciousness. She was awoken at six o'clock in the morning by him, climbing on top of her again to rape her for a fourth time. She didn't bother to try to resist, she was in so much pain that her senses were numbed. Eventually, he withdrew and stumbled back to the tent, emerging again fifteen minutes later, fully dressed. Ignoring her completely, he set about cooking himself bacon and eggs for breakfast. He sat and ate his meal, washed down with a cup of coffee. He made no attempt to make her anything to eat or drink, just casually went about washing and drying his dishes and generally tidying up the site. It was if he was on a jolly camping weekend in the woods. When he was finished his chores he loaded some things into his rucksack and walked off into the forest without a word.

Linda Jarvis closed her eyes and groaned, she had no idea if he was coming back or if he had left her to die like some wretched animal caught in a poacher's snare.

As they were heading for the forest, Danny Warren and his partner booked out one of the Police Land Rovers and set off in the direction of Barrington Woods. When they arrived at the track they had taken when Becky Reid's body was discovered, there was a police cruiser already there. As they pulled up alongside it the two uniformed officers got out of the patrol car and came over to them. Danny wound down the window.

"Morning chaps, I'm DS Warren."

"Morning Sir," they replied in unison.

"We have no idea where abouts this suspect is in these woods or if he is even in here, although we are pretty sure he is. I want you to stop anybody from coming in or out by this route, okay?"

"Yes Sir."

"Good. You have a description of the suspect and his vehicle. If you do come across him, don't try to be heroes. He is bloody dangerous and killed at least two people that we know of. There will be plenty of us around these woods so don't be afraid to call for back-up."

"No Sir."

"The chopper will be here shortly. They are going to over-fly the area and see if they can spot him. They will be liaising with me. If they are spotted in your area I will call you and we will all make our way towards you, got that?"

"Yes Sir."

"What are your names?"

"Peters, Sir."

"O'Connor, Sir."

Danny wrote the names on the map, next to the entrance route.

"Good luck, guys, let's hope we catch this bastard."

"Yes, Sir."

The two officers watched as Danny reversed the Land Rover back out into the road and drive off to the next entrance point. Danny and Martin drove around the perimeter of the forest, stopping to check in with the officers stationed at each major entrance routes. They noticed there were a considerable number of minor routes leading in to the woods but they had too few men to cover all of them. They heard over the radio that the helicopter was only twenty minutes away so Danny decided he was going to return to station the Land Rover as near to the telephone mast as he could. Parking up they got out of the vehicle to wait. It seemed like an eternity but eventually they could make out the drone of a helicopter's engines as it approached from the north.

"How far do you think they are from this mast?" asked Martin.

"They could be anywhere up to about a mile I think."

"What? Shit, I thought they would only be a few hundred yards."

"Well, let's hope they are then," Danny looked up and caught sight of the helicopter as it approached across the fields behind them.

The radio crackled into life.

"Tango Charlie Alpha. This is Quebec99 come in please. Over."

Danny reached in through the open door and grabbed the radio microphone.

"Quebec99. This is Tango Charlie Alpha, we have you on visual, on your port side. Welcome aboard guys. Over."

Danny and Martin looked up as the bright yellow and black aircraft approached slowly, the G-WCAO registration clearly visible on its tail and underneath. They waved as the pilot looked out of his side window at them and raised his hand in acknowledgement.

"Tango Charlie Alpha. Thank you. Great to see you too. Over."

The noise from its two Pratt and Whitney PW206B turboshaft engines was deafening as the helicopter passed within a hundred yards of their position and stationed itself above the trees to their right.

"Tango Charlie Alpha. We understand you want us to fly over as much of the area as possible looking for some form of camp. Is that correct? Over."

Danny sat in the Land Rover as the noise level was much reduced, Martin stood in the doorway to listen in.

"Quebec99. Yes, we believe that the suspect may be camping in the forest. He will also have a large four-wheel drive vehicle. If you see any sign of the suspect, his camp or the vehicle can you guide us in please? Over."

"Tango Charlie Alpha. Will do. We will do a systematic sweep of the area starting from the Shellington Road end and work our way up and down so we cover as much of the area as possible. Over."

"Quebec99. Perfect. Let us know as soon as you spot anything suspicious. Over."

"Tango Charlie Alpha. Will do. Quebec99 Out."

The pitch of the engines changed as the huge helicopter turned slowly to starboard and flew over the treetops away from them, gaining speed as it straightened up and disappeared from view. Five minutes later they heard the engines increasing in volume as the aircraft made its first sweep. All the two detectives could do was wait and hope that they found something.

Matthew Jarvis stood motionless amongst the trees and listened. In his hand he held a small shortwave radio tuned into the police frequency. He had purchased it from the chandler's shop the previous day, as he waited to intercept his wife on her way to work. After breakfast he had ventured further into the forest to a small hill where he knew he would get a better signal. He had been monitoring the police radio traffic for most of the morning. Although he had not been named, he was now certain that the police had identified him as the murderer because of the activity taking place around the forest and he could now hear the droning of the helicopter's engines. Jarvis knew it was only a matter of time before the aircraft reached the spot where the camp was. He also knew that the camp itself would be very difficult to spot from the air. The car though, was a different matter. Turning off the radio, he stuffed it into his rucksack and made his way quickly back to the camp.

As he entered the camp, Jarvis paid no attention to his wife, who lay battered and naked, staked out beneath the large oak tree a few yards away from his tent. It was as if she no longer existed to him. In his mind, she was of as little consequence to him as the other girls he had raped and murdered. He took a small hand axe from a box alongside the tent and quickly set about cutting branches from the surrounding vegetation. When he had gathered a large armful he carried it to the car and started to cover the roof and bonnet. He collected two more bundles before he was happy that the vehicle was hidden from view.

Linda was aware that someone was in the camp but was unable to open her eyes to see what was going on. Her face was swollen beyond recognition and the pain and dehydration, together with the onset of hypothermia, was pushing her further into an unconscious state.

Jarvis continued to ignore Linda as he repacked his rucksack with essential supplies. Once he was happy he had everything he needed he once again set out into the forest without even giving his wife a backward glance. Linda, oblivious now to anything around her slipped silently back into her stupor.

Further and further into the woods Jarvis trekked, keeping under the trees so he would not be seen from above. He headed west, avoiding the main routes through the forest, sticking to the little known tracks and animal trails. The sounds of the helicopter got fainter as he hiked further away from his campsite. He was thankful to the hundreds of hours he had spent as a child, exploring these ancient woodlands. There were very few places in these woods he had not explored over the years. Even as a teenager he would bring his gear and set up camp, sometimes for days on end, making out he was on some great exploration. He would set snares to catch rabbits and pheasants. Once, he had even come across a small Muntjac deer that had stumbled into one of his rabbit snares and couldn't get free. With no remorse or bad feelings of any kind he had slit its throat and stood smiling as he watched it bleed to death. That evening he made a camp fire and, after cutting off one of the creature's hind legs, stripped the meat off the bone and threw it in his frying pan. He thought that it was the most delicious meal he had ever cooked and went to bed that night happy and contented.

Now as he fought his way through the undergrowth he smiled as he cast his mind back to that day. Once again, the excitement and adventure of the situation made him happy. Those stupid Police, he thought. They have no idea what he was capable of. He was confident that he was far too intelligent to ever get caught. He didn't need Linda, or the house, or his car. All he needed was his boys. The three of them could live the big adventure and he could pass on all his knowledge to them, of how to survive in the forest. The boys would just love it.

An hour later the trees thinned out he came to a barbed-wire fence separating the woods from open farmland. Jarvis followed the fence for about half a mile, keeping just inside the tree line. He came to a point where the tree line turned at right angles to the main forest and a small wood branched off to the north. Turning right, he continued to follow the fence until the trees eventually stopped at the edge of a minor road. Throughout his trek across the forest he had encountered not a soul. He knew that once out of the forest he would be more at risk and didn't want to run the risk of being spotted by the police. He knew they were stationed all around the woods but felt sure that this particular area would be unlikely to be covered. Nonetheless, he had to remain cautious. A field ran alongside the road to his right, a herd of thirty or so Friesian cows grazed silently. Resting his hand on a fence post he vaulted the wire and landed heavily on the grass the other side. He set off down the field keeping behind the high bramble hedgerow that followed the contours of road. At the far end of the field he came to a track which led to an old farm. Still following the hedge, Jarvis walked the short distance up the track until he came to a metal gateway. He stopped and listened. Hearing nothing he crept forward slowly and peered around the hedge into the farmyard. He stood for several minutes watching and listening, his heart pounding in his chest. There was no sign of life in or around the yard. Surveying the entire yard he could see an old Land Rover, its rear end sticking out of a large wooden shed. An ancient tractor, weeds growing all around it, was abandoned to one side of the yard. Behind the tractor was along black building. The small, enclosed concrete yard in front was covered with cow muck and Jarvis guessed correctly that it was a milking parlour. To the side of the milking shed he spotted a motorbike, a crash helmet hung by its strap from the handlebars. Within twenty yards of where he stood was another old barn that was in desperate need of renovation. After one final look around, Jarvis climbed over the gate and ran to take cover behind the barn. Keeping as close to the wall as he could he sneaked past the front of the barn and ran across the yard, crouching down behind the old tractor. He stayed in this position for a couple of minutes while he waited for his heart rate to slow. Looking across to the motorbike, now only a few yards away, he was pleased to see the ignition keys sticking out of the instrument cluster. He grinned to himself as he steeled himself for his final dash. After another quick look around he darted out from his hiding place and ran to the bike. In seconds he had straddled the machine and pushed it off its stand. Sliding the helmet off the handle bars he slid it over his head and turned the ignition key. One final look around and then he held his breath and pushed the button on the electric start. The 750cc engine burst into life instantly. Pulling in the clutch lever, he stepped on the gear pedal and pulled back the throttle. As the engine roared he let out the clutch and spun the bike around. Straightening up he accelerated away out of the yard, down the track and out onto the main road. He laughed and whooped as he sped down the road and away from the forest. Once again he had outwitted the Police.

The crew of Quebec99 scoured the woodland below for any sign of their suspect. At one point they had flown directly over the camp and seen nothing. The helicopter continued on its way to the far side of the forest. It was on its way back that the co-pilot suddenly turned his head as something bright caught his eye.

"Hold on Barry," he said. "I thought I saw something off to starboard. Something glinted in the sun for a second can we back up a bit and take a look?"

The pilot slowed the aircraft and circled around until they came back to the spot where his colleague thought he had seen something. Again the sun caught the edge of something metal and both men saw the glinted reflection. The pilot hovered for a moment and manoeuvred the helicopter sideways until they were looking down on the area. The pilot tilted the nose of the aircraft down but still, they struggled to see anything.

"Hang on," the co-pilot reached forward at his controls. "Let me turn on the infrared camera."

The screen between the two men burst into life and almost immediately they could see a white rectangular shape displayed on the monitor.

"Sneaky sod must have covered the car with vegetation but the roof was already hot from the sun and that heat signature is showing up through the brush."

The pilot flicked the switch on his radio.

"Tango Charlie Alpha. This is Quebec99 come in please. Over."

Almost immediately he got a response.

"Quebec99. This is Tango Charlie Alpha. What have you got guys? Over."

"Tango Charlie Alpha. We have a heat signature on our infrared. Looks as if it is a vehicle of some kind. Over."

"Quebec99. Great work Guys. If you give is the location we will check it out from the ground. Over."

The pilot relayed the co-ordinates to Danny who checked the Forestry Commission map.

"There," said Martin excitedly, pointing to a spot on the map.

"Look, there's a small track leading down to it." Danny studied the Forestry Commission map to see which units were closest to the location and radioed the co-ordinates to them and instructed them to make their way cautiously towards the spot where the car was believed to be.

Jumping into the Land Rover they pulled away from their parking spot by the mast and made their way to the old lane leading into the forest. Martin studied the map as Danny manoeuvred the truck onto the small overgrown track. The further they got down the trail the more overgrown it was becoming and it was soon apparent from the flattened down grass and weeds that it had been used recently. Cautiously, they continued through the forest. At last they came to the junction of the two tracks and it was clear to see where Jarvis's vehicle had made the turn. Following in his grassy ruts they drove on. After a while, Danny suddenly came to a halt and killed the engine.

"What's up?" asked Martin, looking up from the map.

"Look, over there," Danny pointed straight ahead.

Martin followed his friend's gaze and could see the rear end of a large four-wheel drive vehicle up ahead, partially obscured by the undergrowth. They opened the car doors and could hear the loud roar of the helicopter as it hovered a few hundred feet above their heads.

Without a word the two detectives walked slowly and as quietly as they could towards the vehicle. They were certain that Jarvis would no longer be around, he would have disappeared as soon as he heard the helicopter. Still, Danny was taking no chances and unclipped the holster on his taser. He pressed the button on his radio and spoke softly into his mic.

"All units, please be really vigilant. We have found the suspect's vehicle but there is no sign of him. We believe he may be making his way on foot through the forest. Please keep your eyes peeled and stop anyone you see. Out."

They reached the vehicle and cautiously looked inside. There was no sign of life. Suddenly, Danny felt a tap on his shoulder and, turning his head saw Martin pointing to the left. He looked to where his colleague indicated and saw the green tarpaulin strung out about the small tent. Crouching, they slowly they made their way forward until they could see into the camp. They spent a minute or two observing but detecting no sign of activity, so stood up and walked into the camp. The first thing Danny saw was what he thought was a body beneath a tree, to one side of the camp. Immediately, he ran over to it and although the woman was badly beaten and her face swollen and bruised he recognised her straight away as Linda Jarvis. He knelt down and felt for a pulse in her neck. At first he thought she was dead but then he felt a faint beat in his fingertips.

"Christ, she's alive. Quick get a blanket or something," he instructed.

As Danny started to untie Linda's feet, Martin ran towards the tent. He returned seconds later with a sleeping bag and threw it over the poor woman as Danny struggled with the bonds on her hands. Danny resorted to cutting through the cord with his Swiss Army knife while Martin radioed for assistance.

"We need an ambulance as soon as possible," he announced to the dispatcher.

"They'll need a four by four. Try the St John Ambulance, they have a Land Rover." Shouted Danny above the roar of the helicopter.

"Martin passed on the information and the location." Signing off he turned to Danny who was checking Linda's pulse again and looking concerned. "They said it would be about twenty minutes."

"Shit. I don't think we can wait that long."

Standing up Danny moved over to a small clearing where he could see the helicopter. He pressed the button on his radio.

"Quebec99. Do you copy? Over."

"Tango Charlie Alpha. Loud and clear. Go ahead. Over."

"We have found a casualty. She is in a very bad way. The only way of getting her out is in the Land Rover. If we can get her out to the main road, can you land in the field so we can transfer her to the helicopter to get her to hospital as soon as? Over."

"No problem, Tango Charlie Alpha. We'll head over there now and wait for you. Out."

The helicopter moved sideways and turned in the direction of the road, the noise decreasing as it got further away.

Danny ran back to the Land Rover and opened the rear door. He moved various bits of equipment to one side to clear the main floor. Running back he felt for Linda's pulse once more.

"Come on," he said. "Help me get her into the truck."

"You really think we should move her?" asked Martin.

"We don't have a choice," he replied.

Martin took Linda's feet whilst Danny slid his hands under her shoulders and lifted her up. She made no sound of movement as they carried her limp body to the Land Rover. The space in the back was cramped but they managed to slide her in and Martin climbed in the back while Danny jumped into the driving seat. Within a few minutes he had turned the vehicle around and they were on their way back out of the forest. It seemed to take an eternity to travel the mile or so back along the track but a few minutes later they emerged from the trees and up to the main road. Glancing along the road Danny spotted a man in a bright orange jumpsuit waving frantically to him about two hundred yards away. Turning out onto the road, as they approached Danny caught a glimpse of the forty foot helicopter sitting in the adjacent field, its rotors still turning wildly. The co-pilot had opened the gate to the field and ushered them through it then ran ahead and stopped them well clear of the turning rotor blades. He helped the two detectives man-handle Linda out of the Land Rover and onto a stretcher. They then carried her over to the helicopter where the stretcher was slid into the open side door of the aircraft.

"Okay boys, we'll take it from here," the co-pilot jumped in beside the stretcher and started securing it ready for takeoff.

"Thanks for your help," shouted Danny over the noise of the engines.

The co-pilot stuck his thumb up and slid the door closed. Danny and Martin ran back to the Land Rover.

"Jesus, I hope she makes it," said Danny as they watched the huge machine lift into the sky.

He started the car again and in less than a minute they were heading back down the lane towards the camp.

Matthew Jarvis brought his stolen motorcycle to a halt on a cobbled walkway next to the waterfront in Bristol harbour. Raising it on its stand, he took off the helmet and slid it over the handlebars. Next he removed the ignition key and put it in his jacket pocket. He walked the short distance to Baldwin Street and took a pavement seat at the small café where he had a clear view of the doorway leading to Linda's office. Looking at his watch, it was already four-thirty so he didn't think he would have too long to wait. A waitress came out of the café and walked up to his table.

"What can I get you Sir?" she asked pleasantly.

"Black coffee," he said, not taking his eyes off the door on the other side of the street.

The girl headed back into the café and returned five minutes later with a small tray. She placed his coffee on the table in front of him and slid his order slip under the saucer. He didn't even acknowledge her.

"Can I get you anything else?" she asked politely.

"No!"

The girl shrugged and went back inside the café.

He had only taken his second sip of coffee when the office door opened and the blonde girl exited with a middle-aged man. They stood talking for a few minutes in front of the door before the man turned and walked off in the direction of the car park. Jarvis stood and dropped two pound coins on the table before following the girl as she walked down Baldwin Street towards the city centre. As he turned the corner he saw Sonya join a queue at a bus stop. He walked closer and leaned against the wall of the building behind the bus shelter.

It was only about five minutes before a bus pulled to a halt at the bus stop and, as soon as the passengers had alighted the small queue started to file on to the bus. Jarvis casually joined the end of the queue and climbed on to the bus and took a seat four rows behind Sonya. The bus made its way through the busy city streets and out towards the St George area of town. As he sat staring at the back of Sonya's head, Jarvis thought about the first time he saw this young woman. She had been walking across the road with Linda. It occurred to Jarvis that, since leaving the camp, he hadn't spared his wife a single thought. He grinned at the thought of her lying tied up and pegged out in the forest, she would be dead long before anybody found his campsite. It was no more than the ungrateful bitch deserved. Now she would never be able to fight for custody and take his boys away from him.

Eventually, he looked up to see Sonya stand and reach up to press the bell button on the handrail. Fifty yards further on the bus started to slow and finally came to a halt alongside a bus shelter at the side of the road. Sonya and another woman made their way to the front of the vehicle and climbed down onto the pavement. As soon as they were out of the bus Jarvis started to move.

"Hold on," he called to the driver who was about to close the doors.

Jumping down he stood by the shelter for a few moments before following after Sonya at a discrete distance. Oblivious to her pursuer, Sonya walked the remaining few hundred yards to her house. Jarvis stood at the corner, next to a street sign stating it was Gordon Avenue. He watched as Sonya went up the path, slid her key into the front door lock and disappeared into the house. He waited for a few minutes before walking casually towards the house. At the bottom of the path he stopped and looked around before walking up to the front door. After another quick look up and down the road he pressed the doorbell.

Sonya had just taken off her jacket and hung it in the hall before going into the kitchen to put the kettle on. She stopped halfway through filling the kettle and placed it on the worktop before walking back through the hallway to the front door. She wondered who it could be. She opened the front door and looked at the stranger standing on her doorstep. Before she could say a word, the man lunged forward and punched her hard in the face. She was thrown backwards by the force of the blow and landed hard on her back at the foot of the stairs. As she raised her head she saw the man walk into her hallway and close the front door behind him. She opened her mouth to scream but he was on her in a flash. He clamped his hand over her mouth and straddled her almost crushing her chest. His right hand emerged from behind his back and she saw the hunting knife. Her eyes went from the knife to his face and instantly she realised who he was. Her mind reeled as she went through the description on the TV News of the murderer and realised too that it was Linda's husband. She started to cry, partly for herself and partly for her friend whom she felt sure had suffered the same fate as his other victims.

Jarvis looked menacingly at her. He placed the blade of the hunting knife to her throat and pressed the tip into her flesh.

"Now," he said. "I am going to remove my hand and we are going into the living room okay? Not one single word or squeak out of you or I'll slit your throat. Understand?"

Sonya nodded her head as best she could with his hand pressing down on her face. Between the tears and the fact that her left eye was starting to swell, she was having trouble trying to focus on his face. Slowly he removed the hand from her mouth and she gasped for breath.

"What do you want?" she asked.

The point of the knife dug further into her neck.

"I told you, not a word. Now get up."

Pulling the knife away, he stood up and stepped away from her slowly, watching her all the time as she got to her feet and steadied herself on the banister rail. She turned and walked unsteadily into the lounge.

"Lay down on the floor, face down. Put your hands behind your back."

Sonya turned and looked at him.

"Don't worry, I'm not going to hurt you as long as you co-operate," he sneered.

Sonya did as instructed and lay trembling as he bound her hands with more of the cord he had placed in his rucksack. When he was finished he lifted her up and threw her backwards onto the settee. She straightened herself up and stared back at him.

"Please," she fought back the tears. "What do you want from me?"

"I want you to tell me where my boys are."

"I . . . can't," she lied. "I don't know."

"Liar," he spat and slapped her hard across the face.

She cried out as the pain in her left eye increased. All she could think about was protecting the children from this monster.

"You have to believe me, I honestly don't know."

He hit her again with a back-hander across the right side of her face this time. She reeled sideways from the blow and yelped again.

"Listen lady, I _know_ that you know, okay? And I'm gonna keep hitting harder and harder each time until you tell me. And you _will_ tell me. We can do this the easier, less painful way. Or we can do it the harder, more painful way. Now, I'm more than happy to go down the latter route after the day I've had so, make your mind up before I do it for you."

"Okay, okay." Sonya tried desperately to think how she could get out of this situation and ensure that he never got to the boys. She took a few deep breaths to clear her head a little.

"Listen," she said at last. "They are in a very secure place. Even if I told you where they are it would be impossible for you to get to them because of the security."

"That's a risk I'm prepared to take. Now, where are they?" Jarvis moved towards her.

"Okay, okay," she said leaning back into the settee. "I'll tell you . . . but it would be better if I could get them to come to you. That way there is less risk of anybody getting hurt. There's been enough of that already."

Jarvis thought for a moment. He looked at the girl trying to read the expression on her face, which was hard to do as her features were getting more distorted by the minute. Her left eye was almost closed, her right eye was filled with tears and her top lip was swelling

"Okay," he said at last. "How do we do that?"

She thought for a minute, hurriedly trying to formulate a plan. It came to her in a flash of inspiration. She decided to act like the dumb blonde he had mistaken her for.

"Well, I don't suppose you know but Linda didn't go home last night. She didn't come in to work today either. Can you believe that? You can't imagine how much extra work I had to do."

"Get on with it," he snapped.

"Between you and me I think she has a fella . . . Oh, sorry, I didn't mean to drop her in it, I mean . . ."

"Will you just tell me how I can get my boys back?" he came towards her menacingly.

"Yes, sorry. Anyway, if I call the hostel where she is staying I can say that I know where Linda is and that she asked me to bring the boys to her as she wants to take them away for a few days. I can get one of the girls to bring the boys here."

Jarvis thought for a while before deciding that this wasn't such a bad idea.

"Do you think they will arrange it?"

"No problem. They know me at the shelter, I used to work there. And they know that Linda and I are good friends. I'm sure they will trust me."

"Yeah, but can I trust you? That's the point."

"Listen, Mister. I don't give a toss how it happens, I just want you out of my house and out of my life. They are your kids, it's up to you and Linda to sort out what happens to them. It's nothing to do with me. I just want to be left alone. If setting this up means you won't hit me any more and you'll leave me in peace then, great."

He thought for a moment then nodded.

"Okay. Set it up."

"You'll have to untie my hands," she said, looking directly at him.

Jarvis grabbed her arm and, hoisting her to her feet, turned her around and cut through her bindings with the hunting knife.

"One scream for help or one sudden move and I'll gut you like a fish. Do you understand?"

"Loud and clear," she rubbed the life back into her wrists. "Can you pass me my handbag?"

He looked around and picked up her handbag from the armchair behind him. Before he gave it to her he opened it and had a quick look inside. Satisfied there was nothing in there she could use as a weapon against him, he tossed the bag to her. Sonya rummaged through the contents of the bag until she located her mobile phone.

Scrolling through the numbers she found the one she wanted. Sonya looked across the room at Matthew Jarvis, took a deep breath and pressed the call button. The number rang several times and she was afraid it would go to voicemail, but at last it was answered.

"Hello, Danny Warren."

"Oh . . . er . . . hi Danielle. This is Sonya, how are things at the refuge?"

"Sonya, hi . . . is . . . er, is everything okay?" Sonya could hear the confusion in Danny's voice.

"Not really. Danielle. I need to ask you a favour."

Danny listened silently as Sonya continued.

"Linda got in touch with me about half an hour ago. Yes . . . I know . . . she's fine. She wants to take the boys away for a few days and wonders if you can drop them around here to my place. She will call in later and pick them up. Is that okay."

"Sonya, is Matthew Jarvis there with you?"

"That's right," she replied.

"Are you at your house?"

"Yes."

"Are you okay? Has he hurt you?"

"A little."

"Okay, now listen. We're going to get you out of there. You just stay calm and try to stall him as much as possible."

"Okay, any idea what time you will be here?" she asked.

Danny looked at his watch.

"About eight. I'll contact the local lads so they can keep and eye on the place until I get there okay?"

"Okay, thank you so much. I look forward to seeing you later."

"And Sonya."

"Yes?"

"We have found Linda Jarvis. She's in hospital. She's been badly beaten but she's going to be okay."

"Thanks for that Danny," tears welled up in her eyes again.

"You just hang in there Honey, Okay?"

"Okay." She hung up the phone, dropped the handset onto the settee and put her head in her hands.

"Well?"

She looked up at him, he could see she was even more upset but he didn't even bother to wonder why, he wasn't interested.

"What did they say?"

"Danny and the boys will be here about eight o'clock."

"For Christ's sake, can't they get them here any sooner?"

"No," she said indignantly. "They have to get them washed and changed and give them their tea. Then they have to pack some clothes if they're going away. You obviously know nothing about bringing up children."

He walked over to her and leaned forward. At first she thought he was going to strike her again and flinched. Instead, he reached down and picked up the mobile phone. He prised the back off the handset with his knife, removed the battery and tossed the phone across the room. He put the battery in his pocket.

"Wouldn't want you to do anything stupid like calling the police would we?" he laughed and flopped into the armchair to wait for his children to arrive.

Bryn Jenkins hung up his call from Danny and leapt into action. He went straight to his superior's office and updated his Inspector.

"Okay," said Inspector Wallace. "Contact Myers and get some men over to the house. Be discreet, take one of the unmarked vans. If this Jarvis chap gets a whiff of you he'll make a bolt for it and we don't want it to be our chaps who lose him, got that?"

"Yes, Sir."

"I suppose I will have to keep Superintendent Cunningham informed. He's sure to want to take an interest so don't cock it up, Jenkins."

"No, Sir," Bryn Jenkins left the office and made a few quick phone calls. Then hurrying down to the locker rooms he was pleased to see several other officers hurriedly changing into their riot gear. He quickly changed into his own and the men, eight in total, regrouped in the yard next to a large white transit van. The unmarked van, its engine already ticking over, had been fuelled and was ready to roll. Opening the back doors six of the men climbed in and took their places on the two benches that ran either side. Sergeant Jenkins climbed into the driver's seat and a plain-clothed officer got in beside him. Bryn pulled out of the yard and onto the main road. With no lights or sirens they made their way quickly through the city towards Sonya's house. Because of the evening traffic it took a little over fifteen minutes to make the journey but at last they turned into Sonya's street and pulled to a halt on the opposite side of the road about a hundred yards away from the house.

The police officers in the van sat there watching the house for a few minutes before Bryn Jenkins spoke.

"Lawrence, why don't you take a slow walk past the house and see if you can spot any sign of life."

"Yes Sir," PC Lawrence was half out of the car when Bryn spoke again.

"And Lawrence, try not to make it obvious."

"No Sir."

Constable Lawrence crossed the road in front of the van and walked as casually as he could towards Sonya's residence. As he reached the front of the property he slowed down to a snail's pace and looked directly into the front window.

"Jesus Christ, look at him," Bryn Jenkins shook his head. "He couldn't make it look more obvious if he went up and banged on the bloody front door."

The men in the back chuckled at their sergeant's frustration. Bryn Jenkins watched as Lawrence walked to the corner, turned around and sauntered back past the house. Eventually, he came back across the road and climbed back into the van, a triumphant grin on his face.

"Your a prick," Bryn Jenkins glared at him and the men in the back laughed.

"What?" PC Lawrence was perplexed. He was completely unaware he had done anything wrong.

"Did you see anything going on while you had your nose pressed to the window?" Bryn said sarcastically.

"I didn't have . . ."

"Did you see anything?" his sergeant cut him off halfway through his protestation.

"No Sir," Lawrence looked down at the floor and sulked. The men in the back sniggered.

Sergeant Jenkins thought for a few minutes then, turning in his seat he addressed the men in the back.

"Thomas, Pearce, I want you two to go back up the road here and circle around, down Birch Tree Avenue and come out at the other end of Gordon Avenue. If you can lurk somewhere around Fairview Lane, then if he does make a break for it and goes that way, you can head him off, okay?"

"Yes Sir," they said and opened the rear door of the van.

"Let me know when you are in position."

The two officers set off back up the road and turned left out of sight.

Jarvis sat staring at Sonya across the room. Not a bad looking girl, he thought. Not really his type, but a cracking body. He checked his watch, seven-thirty. For the first time since he left the forest he thought about his camp and wondered if they had found it. Linda would have been dead long before they manage to find her so that was one less problem to worry about. He chuckled to himself as he opened the top of his rucksack and took out the shortwave radio. He turned it on and played with the dial for a minute before he heard voices. It was just a patrol car talking to the dispatcher. He turned the dial again and another voice crackled out of the loudspeaker.

" . . . _yes Bryn, we're about ten minutes away I think. Where are your men situated?_ "

" _We are parked up a hundred yards or so from the property and I have two men stationed on the corner of Fairview Lane and Gordon Avenue_ . . ."

Sonya gasped and Jarvis's face dropped as they heard the name of the road announced.

". . . _There is no sign of anything at the house and the suspect and Miss Rae are believed to be still inside_ ," the voice of Sergeant Bryn Jenkins continued.

"You double-crossing little whore," Jarvis jumped to his feet and lunged towards Sonya.

She tried to dive to one side but he was too quick for her. Grabbing a handful of her hair he tried to throw her back onto the settee but she missed and landed heavily on the floor. In a flash he pulled the knife out of the back of his belt and thrust it at her.

"You are going to tell me where this refuge place is and you're going to tell me right now or I will kill you."

Sonya realised that she had no choice because she knew he meant what he said. Reluctantly, she told him the address.

"Bitch," he spat and plunged the knife into her abdomen.

She screamed in agony and clutched her stomach as he climbed off her. She looked down at the blood as it spread rapidly across her blouse and onto the floor. Through eyes filled with tears of pain and terror she saw of him rush past her and into the kitchen, on his way out of the back door. She pressed down on the wound to try and slow the bleeding. The blood oozed through her fingers and her head swam. She tried to swivel her body so she could lean against the couch, the pain was intense. She knew she had to try and reach the telephone on the hall stand and call for an ambulance but she didn't know if she could make it. She was getting fainter by the minute.

Danny's Police Land Rover came to a halt a few yards down the road from the house. Seeing Danny's arrival, Bryn and his team alighted from the van and crept down the road to take up positions close to the house. Danny, Martin and two officers huddled around the front door ready to rush in at a moment's notice.

"Ready?" whispered Danny.

The men gave him the thumbs up and he took his taser from its holster and pressed the doorbell. Nothing happened for several minutes. Danny was about to press the doorbell again when heard a noise behind the door. There was a loud thud on the door from the inside and the sound of someone trying the catch. Then, with a huge effort, Sonya pulled open the door and stumbled over the threshold. Danny instinctively reached out and caught her as she fell. She was barely conscious and was bleeding profusely. Danny carried her down the steps as the other officers rushed into the house. He laid the girl on the path and pressed the button on his radio.

"Ambulance, as fast as you can. We have one female casualty, with what looks like stab wounds to the abdomen."

As Danny relayed the information to the dispatcher, he knelt beside Sonya and pulled her blood-soaked shirt up and unbuttoned the top of her trousers. The wound was about an inch long but he had no idea how deep it was or how serious. Taking out his handkerchief he folded it and pressed on the wound to try to stem the bleeding.

"Don't worry Sonya, everything's going to be okay. You're going to be fine," he reassured her.

Sonya opened her eyes and looked at him.

"He's going to Rowan House," she said weakly. "He forced me to tell him where it was. He wants his boys."

Martin and the other officers came back out of the house.

"No sign of him," he said. "We missed him."

"Only just," said Danny. "He's not far away and I know where he's going."

Danny looked around and saw Sergeant Jenkins.

"Bryn, can we get someone to take care of Sonya until the ambulance arrives."

"Of course."

"Can I be of assistance?"

They looked around at a young man standing at the foot of the path, the top part of his green overalls was pulled down and tied around his waist by the sleeves. He walked quickly towards them and knelt beside Sonya.

"I'm Andy Summers," he said. "I'm a paramedic. I live next door. I came out to see what all the fuss was about."

"Perfect," said Danny. "Andy, I don't know if you already know Sonya but please can you take care of her until the ambulance arrives? Sonya has a stab wound to her stomach, I have no idea how bad it is. I have to go, we have to get this man quickly before someone else gets hurt."

"No problem," Andy replied as he looked down at his stricken neighbour.

Danny turned back to Sonya.

"Hang in there Honey, you're doing great," he encouraged. "Everything's going to be okay. Andy will look after you until the ambulance gets here. I have to go but I'll come to the hospital as soon as I can."

Sonya smiled weakly.

"Make sure you get him," she whispered.

Danny stood up and reluctantly left Sonya in the hands of the medic.

"He's on his way to the refuge Bryn, do you know where it is?"

"Certainly do, follow us. I'll call for backup. Unless he's got transport we will get there before him."

Bryn instructed Lawrence and one other officer to remain behind whilst the other officers ran to their vehicles. With sirens and lights this time, they headed back into the city traffic.

Once in Sonya's back garden, Jarvis had vaulted the fence at the bottom. He ran through the garden that backed onto hers and burst out into Birch Tree Avenue that ran parallel to Gordon Avenue. Once in the street, he ran as hard as he could to the end of the road. A car turned into the avenue and as it was about to accelerate away he dashed out in front of it, bringing the vehicle to a screeching halt. The poor woman driver had to slam hard on her brakes to avoid hitting the big man. Jarvis ran around to the driver's side and, yanking open the door, reached in and pressed the button on the driver's seatbelt. The poor frightened woman started to protest but he grabbed her by the hair, dragged her from the car and threw her into the road. Then, he climbed behind the wheel, slammed the car into gear and took off at high speed down the road.

"MY BABY," screamed the woman as the car raced away.

At the end of the road Jarvis turned left abruptly and accelerated away. He was suddenly startled by a cry and looking in the rear-view mirror realised that there was a very frightened toddler strapped into a child seat in the back.

"Shit," he muttered, the baby continued to cry.

He knew roughly where he was going although he did not know the exact location of the shelter. The car was old and the brakes had seen better days. Once or twice he had come very close to hitting the car in front. Halfway across the city he heard sirens and the vehicles ahead started to slow and move over to the left. Checking his rear-view mirror, Jarvis looked past the weeping child at the traffic behind. He saw a white van, its headlights flashing alternately. This was followed by a Police Land Rover and a high-speed patrol vehicle. He slowed and pulled in behind the car in front letting the police convoy pass. As the first vehicle approached Jarvis turned his head and looked over his left shoulder at the child behind him so he would not be recognised by any of the occupants of the police cars. The vehicles raced past in the direction of Clifton. He guessed that they were heading for the refuge, he would have to rethink his plan of action.

When the traffic started moving again he followed at a more sedate speed to allow himself more time to think about what he was going to do. Passing back through the city centre, he swung right at College Green, passed the cathedral and up Park Street. He decided he had better get rid of the car. The woman from whom he had stolen it would have reported the crime by now. They would have soon put two and two together and realised that it was he who had taken it. With the child still on board every police officer in the South West would make finding the car their priority. As he rounded the triangle at the top of Park Street, Jarvis heard more sirens. Accelerating, he turned left and, after a further two hundred yards, turned left again into a residential street. Bringing the car to a halt, he glanced in his rear-view mirror in time to see the police car race past the end of the road. His eyes dropped to the young child who stared back at his reflection. The boy had stopped crying but was still clearly distraught. His face was streaked with tears and his bottom lip quivered as he looked at the man in front of him.

"Sorry kid," Jarvis opened the car door and climbed out. He slammed the door behind him and walked away without a backward glance.

After walking for nearly twenty minutes he went into a small newsagent, picked up a daily paper and took it to the counter.

"Will that be all?" asked the elderly shopkeeper.

"Yes, thanks." Jarvis handed the man a pound coin. As he pocketed his change he asked, "can you tell me how to get to Crompton Avenue?"

"Certainly," replied the man, "keep going straight down here, take the second right and Crompton Avenue will be the first turning on your left."

"Thanks," Jarvis left the shop. Ten yards from the store he folded the newspaper, stuffed it into his jacket pocket and walked on, following the shop-keeper's directions.

The Police convoy pulled to a halt in front of the old Victorian Mansion that was home to the dozen or more women, and their children, who had taken refuge there in order to extricate themselves from their former violent relationships. Two patrol cars, their blue flashing lights bouncing off the adjacent building, were already parked in the street along from the house. The women and staff were unaware of the drama unfolding in their midst until the police vehicles started arriving on their doorstep.

Several faces looked anxiously out of the windows as Danny Warren and Bryn Jenkins exchanged a few words before turning and walking up the path towards the big house. At the top of the steps Bryn reached forward and pressed the doorbell.

Within seconds, the large oak door opened a few inches and a chubby young woman with a worried look peered around it at the two officers.

"Good afternoon," said Bryn, "I'm Sergeant Bryn Jenkins and this is Detective Sergeant Danny Warren. Do you mind if we come in for a moment?"

The woman glanced past them at another patrol car that was just pulling up behind Danny's Land Rover. She looked back at the two Policemen.

"Yes . . . I mean, No . . . Come in," she said nervously, opening the door wider.

Danny and Bryn entered the hallway and the woman closed the door behind them, bolting it top and bottom.

"Is the Manager here?" asked Danny.

"How can I help Gentlemen?"

The two men turned in the direction of the voice. A tall, slender woman in her fifties stood in the doorway of a downstairs office.

Danny walked towards her, hand outstretched.

"DS Danny Warren," he shook her hand and was surprised at the strength in her grip.

"Alice Clavell," the woman smiled, "Thank you Brenda. Gentlemen, please, come into the office."

She turned and the men followed her into the small room. Alice took her seat behind the desk and waved Bryn and Danny to two chairs in front.

"I take it this is about Linda Jarvis?" Alice asked.

"Sort of," Danny started, "Miss Clavell, we have found Linda . . ."

"Oh thank God. Is she all right?"

"Linda is fine, or will be. Miss Clavell, Linda was abducted by her ex-husband and taken to his hideout where she was brutally beaten and raped."

"Dear God," Alice put her hands to her mouth.

"Luckily, we found her in time and she was flown to hospital. With time and care she will make a full recovery. Matthew Jarvis managed to evade capture but forced his way into Sonya Rae's house."

Alice Clavell's mouth dropped open but no sound came out.

"I'm afraid Sonya has also been injured but she too is being taken care of in hospital."

"Is she going to be all right? What happened?"

"It seems Jarvis went to her house in order to find out where his boys are. He threatening to kill her, he beat her before stabbing her in the abdomen. She had no choice but to give him the information and we believe he is on his way here to try to get his children back."

Alice sat back for a few moments, digesting the news she had just heard. Finally, she sat forward and took a deep breath to steady her composure.

"I must get the staff and mothers together and inform them as to what is going on."

"We don't want you to be overly concerned Miss Clavell. We have several officers here already and I have requested backup," said Bryn. "Don't worry, we will soon have the whole building surrounded. He won't be able to get in."

Danny and Bryn spent a few more minutes talking with Alice before going back outside to discuss their plan of action with their fellow officers. Alice, meanwhile, called the staff and house residents together in the lounge and informed them of what was happening. The ladies were remarkably calm about it and seemed more concerned about Linda and Sonya's well-being.

Danny and Martin were impressed with how Bryn took charge of the operation to stake out the area around Rowan House. Officers were posted around the house and grounds and cars were posted at either end of the road to stop and question anyone wanting access to the street.

For Matthew Jarvis the situation was becoming increasingly frustrating. He was sitting in a bus shelter opposite, and just sixty metres from, the turning into Crompton Avenue. From his position behind his newspaper he watched as a succession of Police vehicles pass by and turn into the road where his two boys now lived. Two Police officers positioned their cars so that they blocked any vehicular entry into the avenue. They got out of their cars and were joined by four other officers who stationed themselves in front of the vehicles.

Jarvis had no idea how many Police officers were already in Crompton Avenue but, apart from the two cars at the entrance, he had seen four cars and a van turn into the road. He guessed that the four vehicles he had seen en route were already outside the hostel. He spat on the pavement. It didn't matter to him how many Police were there he was not leaving without his boys.

Jarvis stood and closed his newspaper. He left the bus shelter and walked along the footpath in the direction of the turning. As he drew opposite he slowed his pace slightly so he could see what was happening in the street. One of the Police officers leaning against the bonnet of his patrol car, uncrossed his arms and stood up straight as he stared back at Jarvis. Jarvis raised his folded paper in salute at the officer and carried on walking. The officer, perceiving the man as no potential threat, sat back against his vehicle to resume his conversation with his colleagues.

Jarvis smiled to himself as he walked. Looking into the avenue he was able to see where and on what side of the road the hostel was situated, by the number of Police vehicles parked in the road. The roof of the Police Land Rover stuck up above the other cars and, as that would have been one of the first vehicles on the scene, it was safe to assume that it was positioned right outside the property. Armed with this knowledge, Jarvis continued walking until he came to the next road that ran parallel to Crompton Avenue. Looking back towards the Police roadblock, none of the officers on duty paid him any attention as he crossed over the road. The sky was beginning to darken as he entered the street. The avenue was lined with large Victorian houses, set back from the road, positioned amidst large gardens. He could see that several of the buildings he passed had been converted into apartments and their front gardens given over to parking. Looking back towards the entrance of the street he estimated that he was roughly level with the hostel in the next street.

Jarvis stopped and turned and looked at the imposing building in front of him. In front of the house the huge tarmac parking area stretched from one side of the property to the other and continued down the left side of the building. He walked quickly across the car park and alongside the house, keeping as close to the building as possible. Jarvis stopped as he reached the corner of the building and gazed out over the large expanse of lawn at the back. A large patio spread out immediately behind the house. Down the left side of the garden a small grassy path was separated from the main lawn by a Beech hedge about five feet high. On the other side of the path an eight-foot high wall ran the length of the garden. He dashed quickly across the short distance to the safety of the hedge. Bending over, to keep from being seen by anybody in the house, Jarvis hurried along the path until he came to a large well-cultivated vegetable plot. From the cover of the hedging he looked about to make sure the coast was clear. The hedge extended right and ran across the garden shielding it from view from the house. A large green house and a large wooden potting shed were situated along the right perimeter wall. Satisfied that there was nobody about, Jarvis followed the contours of the hedge to the opposite side of the garden and then followed the wall, passing behind the greenhouse and shed. The wall continued until it turned at right angles to form the perimeter along the bottom of the garden.

Needing to see over the wall in order to ascertain whether or not he was indeed level with the hostel, Jarvis looked around for something on which he could stand. Looking back towards the house he realised that, if he ventured out from behind the potting shed, he could be seen, over the top of the hedge, by anybody on the third or fourth floors of the building. He remembered seeing a water butt alongside the greenhouse so, retracing his steps, went back around the side of the shed. The large green barrel sat eighteen inches off the ground atop two lines of breeze blocks, allowing watering cans to be filled from the tap at its base. Jarvis lifted the lid and looked inside. Fortunately, because of the recent dry spell, the butt was only half full. He pulled the plastic down-pipe from the guttering that ran around the greenhouse and lifted it out of the way. Then, putting his shoulder against the barrel he heaved it off its breeze-block base. The butt crashed to the ground spilling its contents across the earth. Lifting the base of the barrel, Jarvis made sure that it was empty before dragging it back down the garden. Turning it upside down, he man-handled it into position against the wall and stepped back to admire his handiwork. He needed something else to act as a step to get on top of the barrel. Peering around the side of the shed he noticed a wheel barrow a few yards away. He looked up at the house and stood watching it for a few moments. Seeing no sign of life on the upper floors, Jarvis crept out from behind the shed and retrieved the wheel-barrow. Using the barrow as a step he climbed up onto the upturned water butt and looked over the wall into the garden in Crompton Avenue. The garden was rather neglected and several large shrubs had been allowed to grow unchecked, giving plenty of cover. He quickly climbed over the wall and dropped into the garden below. He made his way further onto the property ensuring that he was shielded from the house by the undergrowth. A short way in, Jarvis stopped, crouched and listened intently. For a few moments he heard nothing then, he turned his head quickly to his left as he heard the distinct crackle of a two-way radio. Muffled talking was followed again by the sharp crackle. He made his way over to the left perimeter wall and followed it for a few yards. Numerous trees lined the wall of the adjacent garden so he knew there would be some cover once he was over there. The problem once again was getting over the wall. Creeping along the wall Jarvis stopped suddenly and almost laughed out loud. His prayers had been answered. An old motorbike, grass and weeds growing up through its wheels and around its engine, leaned against the wall about half way down the garden. Still shielded from the house by the bushes, he climbed up onto the seat of the bike and carefully peered over the top of the wall and was surprised to see that there was far more cover in the garden than he was expecting. Right along the garden the trees were planted almost up to the wall itself and between the trees were large shrubs.

Jarvis looked towards the house and could see two uniformed Police officers, in conversation, by the opposite corner of the house. Taking in as much of the surroundings as the foliage would allow, he could see that, on his side of the building, a large single-storey extension had been built at right angles to the main house. As he watched, one of the Policemen disappeared from view down the side of the house leaving only one officer to guard the back of the property.

Whilst the remaining officer watched his colleague departing, as silently as he could, Jarvis climbed up on top of the wall and lowered himself down the other side. Keeping out of sight behind the shrubbery, Jarvis made his way, as slowly and as silently as a cat, along the perimeter wall. When he reached the end wall of the extension he sat down, with his back against the brickwork, to plan his next move.

Danny, Martin and Bryn stood next to Bryn's van discussing the situation. Danny was beginning to get frustrated as the high Police presence was almost certainly going to deter Jarvis from even attempting to reach the house. On the way to the hostel he had mentioned to Martin that he would rather have tried to keep a low profile and lay some sort of trap for Jarvis. He had been planning on discussing it with Bryn. However, when they arrived, there were already two Police cars in the avenue. Now the road had been sealed at both ends and there were Police everywhere. He was sure that Jarvis would go straight to ground again. Danny had radioed in to base and informed DCI Green of the situation. His boss was of the same opinion that Jarvis would not try anything with such a large Police presence. Danny said they would stick around and monitor the situation just in case. This was really the Bristol forces jurisdiction so he and Martin didn't really have much say in how it was going to be handled.

Danny heard a car engine behind him and turned to see a large black Vauxhall sweep up the road towards them, blue lights flashing behind the radiator grill. The uniformed officer brought the car to a halt alongside Bryn's van and a tall, middle-aged man in a well-cut suit emerged from the rear of the vehicle. Bryn snapped to attention when he saw the man and walked over to greet him. After a few words he led the man over to Danny and Martin.

"Sir, this is Detective Sergeant Danny Warren and Detective Constable Martin Jackson. Gentlemen, this is Superintendent Cunningham."

"Pleased to meet you, Sir," Danny offered.

Cunningham ignored him completely and looked about at the house and the Police presence.

"Well done Sergeant," he said to Bryn, "you seem to have everything under control. He would have to be extremely stupid to try to get anywhere near here."

"Yes, Sir," Bryn gave a sideways glance to Danny.

"The only problem is, Sir," suggested Danny, "such a high profile Police presence could make him go to ground."

"Our main priority is to ensure that the women and children in this establishment are safe," Cunningham replied.

"With all due respect, Sir, Matthew Jarvis is an extremely dangerous individual, responsible for at least two murders and several serious sexual and physical assaults. Surely our priority should be to put him behind bars as soon as possible before anybody else gets hurt?"

The officer drew himself up to his full height and glared at Danny.

"When I want your opinion, I'll ask for it," snapped Cunningham. "You do well to understand that you are on our turf now and I am only allowing you to remain here under sufferance. I haven't passed any comment on how your lot failed to arrest him when you had the chance or how you let him get this far, but he is in our City now and our overriding concern is for the safety of our citizens."

There was plenty he wanted to say in reply but Danny held his tongue. He knew that a certain amount of what the Superintendent said was true, that it was their responsibility. He took offence at the accusations of his own men's incompetence but decided to let that one slide, at least for the time being. Bryn, looked passed his superior towards Danny.

"Sorry," he mouthed, silently.

Cunningham looked again at the house and nodded.

"Carry on Sergeant, you know where I am if you need me." With that he turned, got back into his car and was chauffeured away.

The three officers watched as the vehicle disappeared down the road.

"I'm sorry about that," Bryn apologised.

"Don't worry," said Danny, "It's not your fault your boss has got his head so far up his own backside that he doesn't understand what's going on around him."

"He does tend to do things a little differently in the City, you see. The Superintendent thinks we should be concentrating more on preventing crimes happening rather than expending our efforts on trying to apprehend one individual in a population of nearly half a million."

"But if that individual's a serial killer and rapist . . ."

"I know, I know. You're preaching to the converted," sighed Bryn. "I'm in the same mindset as you. I prefer good old-fashioned policing methods. When a person broke the law you went after them and brought them to justice. Nowadays, it seems the idea is to prevent them from doing anything in your area so they go somewhere else and it becomes another forces problem."

"That's not what we were doing," Martin interjected. "We had him cornered but gave us the slip."

"I know it wasn't and I wasn't for one minute suggesting you did," Bryn replied, "let's face it, you two wouldn't be here now if you were trying to pass the buck now, would you?"

"Well it's nice to know we feel the same way," said Danny trying to defuse the tension. "All we have to do now is try and work out what Jarvis's next move is going to be."

"Well I haven't a clue," said Bryn, "you chaps know him better than me."

"I think he's going to go into hiding," said Martin.

"Hmm," Danny looked thoughtful. "Part of me thinks he will too. But I can't get rid of the feeling that he is such an arrogant bastard, he just might try to get one over on us. He's been lucky to get away with it so far but maybe he's beginning to think he's invincible."

Jarvis stood up and peered around the side of the building at the Policeman standing at the opposite corner. Behind him, where the wall joined to the building, he had found a small pile of builder's rubble left over from the construction of the extension. He had already retrieved half a house brick and gripped it tightly in his hand as he watched the Policeman. Jarvis decided that he should act now before the man's colleague returned.

Bending down, he picked up a stone and, from his position behind the wall, tossed it so that it landed on the patio only a few feet away. The sound of the stone skittering across the paving slabs got the officer's attention and he turned to look in that direction. Jarvis peered through the shrubbery and tossed another pebble. The officer took a torch from his belt and shone it over to the corner of the extension. Another small stone landed on the patio and the constable started to walk slowly towards Jarvis. He got to within a few feet of where Jarvis was hiding and shone his torch around, trying to pinpoint the source of the noise. Jarvis rustled the bush slightly, causing the officer to step another pace nearer. Another rustle and another step was all it took to get the policeman into position. As the officer swung his torch around at the shrubbery Jarvis stood up and before the man knew what was happening, Jarvis hit him square in the face with the brick and the officer went down.

In one swift movement, Jarvis dragged the prostrate policeman into the bushes. As the man lay unconscious on the ground, Jarvis started to remove his uniform. He had removed the officer's belt, trousers and Kevlar vest and was just about to start removing his shirt when the policeman started to regain consciousness and, on realising what was happening, the officer grabbed Jarvis by the arm and tried to pull him off balance. Jarvis, however, was bigger and heavier than the policeman and easily pushed him off. The officer tried to call out but Jarvis was ready for him and hit him hard in the mouth, stifling his cry for help. Jarvis reached behind him and retrieved the brick and pounded it into the poor man's forehead with a sickening thud. Blood spattered over Jarvis's hands as he continued to hammer the brick into the officer's skull. By the third blow the man was dead but Jarvis hit him twice more to be certain. He realised that he couldn't get the officer's shirt off him without getting more blood on it. Nevertheless, he pulled it over the man's head, turned it inside out and pulled in on over his own T-shirt. The blood would be on the inside and the Kevlar vest would hide any that soaked through, he thought. The shirt and vest were a bit of a tight fit but they would have to do. Stripping out of his camouflage pants, he climbed into the rest of the uniform and attached the belt and radio. Stepping out from the shrubbery he realised that the officer's cap was lying on the grass. Picking it up Jarvis thought it was fortunate that the man's colleague hadn't returned and spotted it. The cap was a bit of a tight fit but he pulled it on and tilted it down slightly, better to conceal his features.

Looking around cautiously, Jarvis studied the back of the building. The ground floor rooms at the back were in darkness but the upper floors were illuminated. Walking slowly across the patio he stopped as he reached the end of the building and cautiously peered around the corner. He could see a police car parked at the end of the drive but there was no sign of any officers. He hurried back over to the single storey extension and tried the door. Surprisingly, the door swung silently open. Glancing back towards to corner of the house, he slipped inside, closed the door silently behind him and locked it. He turned and gazed around the room. Along one wall many coats hung from brass hooks, below which were a garden bench and a boot rack. Children's shoes and Wellington boots of various sizes spilled out across the floor. Cupboards lined the back wall and continued along under the window. A small sink was set into the worktop. To his left, Jarvis noticed a door that he presumed led into the main house. Stepping over to the door, he tried the handle, the door swung inwards slightly and Jarvis peered in to the large kitchen. In the centre of the room was a large wooden table surrounded by bench seats. A huge stainless-steel cooker stood against the outside wall, shaded by the biggest cooker-hood he had ever seen. At the far end of the kitchen was a door leading to another room. The door stood open slightly and light from the hallway spilled into the kitchen, reflecting off the sides of two enormous refrigerators standing against the wall adjacent to it.

Jarvis stepped slowly into the kitchen and closed the door behind him. As silently as a cat he made his way around the table towards the door at the opposite end. He was half-way across the room when the door opened and a short, well-built woman walked in. Jarvis stopped dead and, seeing him, the startled woman, gasped audibly and her hand went up to her chest.

"I'm so sorry to have startled you," said Jarvis in a friendly tone. "I did knock but there was no answer so I let myself in. I took the precaution of locking the door behind me. Better safe than sorry."

"You gave me such a shock. I wasn't expecting anyone to be in here," the woman still stood with her hands on her chest staring into the gloom at the man.

"Sorry," Jarvis smiled. "PC Roberts."

He stepped towards the woman.

"I expect you know why we are here?" he asked.

"Yes," replied the woman.

"I have been asked to keep a guard on the Jarvis boys. It's just an additional precaution. I take it they are in their room?"

"Yes . . . I . . . er . . . assume so."

"Would you mind showing me which room is their room?"

The woman looked a little perplexed. She was still a little shaken by her scare but, she supposed, he was a police officer and the more precautions that were taken the better. Everybody in the hostel was in a nervous state so having a policeman in the house was a little reassuring.

"Um . . . yes, I suppose. Follow me."

The woman smiled and turned to walk back out of the kitchen. Jarvis followed, keeping his head lowered. In the light of the hallway Jarvis realised that a small patch of blood was visible on the tunic, just above his Kevlar vest. Making out he was adjusting his radio, he covered it with his hand just as the woman turned to face him. As she saw his unshaven chin the woman hesitated and frowned.

Jarvis realised what she was looking at and made light of it.

"Oh dear, I must look a sight. I was off duty when I got the call to come in," he laughed. "I expect my sergeant will go mad when he sees me. It's not my fault I didn't have time to shave."

The woman smiled.

"They are on the third floor, this way," she said and led him up the stairs to the second floor landing.

A couple of women talking on the landing glanced in their direction as they continued up the stairs to the third floor. Jarvis kept his head down to avoid being recognised. He had no idea whether or not Linda had any photographs that she might have shown the other women. They walked a little way along the third floor landing until the woman stopped and looked at a cream-coloured door.

"This is Linda's room," she said softly. "Brenda is in there keeping an eye on them. They are a bit shaken up that their mother is missing."

Turning to the door the woman knocked softly. Jarvis stepped back against the wall and lowered his head. A few seconds later the door opened.

"Hi Brenda," the woman smiled, "this police officer has been posted up here to guard the boys."

Brenda peered around the door at Jarvis who nodded to her.

"Evening Miss," he said casually.

"Oh, right . . . yes. You had . . . er better come in," she said. "Thank you Maureen."

Maureen turned to go.

"Well, I'll leave you to it," she said to Jarvis.

"Yes, thank you," he smiled, "you have been very helpful."

Brenda turned back into the room and Jarvis followed. He turned and shut the door, locking it. Turning back he lunged at Brenda, catching her off guard and pushing her against the wall. His left forearm was across her throat as he pulled the knife from his trouser pocket with his right hand. He held the blade of the knife to the side of her face.

"Not one sound," he hissed, "or you're dead, understand me?"

Brenda nodded as best she could, tears of fear and pain welling up in her eyes.

"Sit on the floor, over there next to the radiator," he relaxed his grip and pushed her across the room. He slid the handcuffs from their holder on the back of his belt as she sat down. Kneeling next to her he slid the knife into the waistband of his trousers, snapped one cuff on her wrist and looped it around the pipe leading to the radiator. He grabbed her free arm and pulled it close enough to snap the other cuff on. Standing up, he walked over to a chest of drawers. Finding nothing of use in the top drawer he tried the next. Reaching in he pulled out a silk scarf and a handkerchief and walked back to where the terrified Brenda sat, shackled to the radiator.

"Where are my boys?" he whispered.

"In their bedroom, over there," she sobbed.

He glanced in the direction of the room before stuffing the handkerchief into Brenda's mouth and tying the scarf around her face to prevent her from making any sound. Jarvis stood up and walked slowly towards the closed door to the boys' bedroom. He stopped, took a deep breath and turned the handle. The door swung open and he stepped into the door.

"Hi boys, Daddy's here."

Danny sat on the wing of the Land Rover talking on his mobile phone. He had called DCI Allen Green to fill him in on the day's events.

"So Superintendent Cunningham thinks we dropped the ball does he?" Allen Green could feel his hackles rising, "I don't know who he is but he sounds like a real arrogant bastard to me."

"Yes Sir," agreed Danny. "Virtually accused us of incompetence."

"Cheeky bugger! So what's his plan of action then?" Green stood up from his desk and gazed out of his office window at the darkening sky.

"Basically, to do nothing. He's not interested in trying to find Jarvis. He just wants to stop him from getting anywhere near the refuge. Bryn, sorry, I mean Sergeant Bryn Jenkins seems to think that the Superintendent's tactics are to frustrate Jarvis so that he gives up and moves off somewhere else where he will become another force's problem."

"So he's got no intentions of going after Jarvis?"

"Apparently not, Sir."

"So was exactly is he doing?"

"Just flooding the whole area with uniformed officers and blocking all roads leading to or from the refuge, Sir. Like I said, he wants to frustrate Jarvis into giving up and going away."

"The man's an incompetent idiot," fumed Green. "How the hell was he ever made up to that rank?"

"No idea, Sir." Danny was secretly pleased that Green was getting so worked up about it. He felt that this type of Policing was not the correct way. Villains should be hunted down and taken out of society not moved on.

"I've got a bloody good mind to take this further and put in an official complaint." Allen Green sat down at his desk and scratched his head.

"Yes, Sir," Danny smiled to himself.

"What do you think, Danny? Do you think he'll give up and go away?"

"At first, I thought he'd go to ground and wait it out. But then I got to thinking about what he's done so far. He's taken more and more chances and each time he's gotten away with it. I think, he's such an arrogant sod that he will still try to get in, despite the place being surrounded by the entire Avon and Somerset Constabulary."

"I think you're right. Hopefully, he'll slip up and we'll have him. But I don't think he'll go down without a fight."

"No, Sir. Actually Sir, I've had an idea. Do you think it may be worth trying to get back control of the situation by taking the boys out of there, or at least letting Jarvis think we have? He wouldn't have gone away yet. I'm certain he is watching the house, trying to work out a plan."

"You mean move them to another location which would then force him to follow? It might work."

"Whatever happens I think the boys should be removed from the house for their own protection anyway."

"I agree. You do what you think is best Danny, you're my man on the ground. Just keep me in the loop okay?"

"Yes, Sir," Danny ended up the call, slid off the car and walked over to where Martin and Bryn were standing looking at the house.

Martin looked around.

"What did DCI Green have to say?" he asked.

"He's not happy with your boss," Danny looked at Bryn and laughed.

"I don't know anybody who is to be honest," Bryn shook his head.

"Look guys, I've been thinking. Jarvis has come here for one reason and that is to get his boys, right?"

The other two men nodded in agreement.

"By the boys remaining here it is putting, not only them but the other residents, in danger. Not to mention tying up half the Constabulary. I think we should remove the boys but make a big show of it."

"What do you mean?" asked Martin.

"Despite what Superintendent Cunningham thinks, Jarvis is not going to go away. He's going to get in some how. Maybe not tonight or tomorrow, but at some point the Policing has to end."

"I understand that, I meant about making a show of it."

"I am certain that Jarvis is in a position where he knows exactly what is going on at this house. He is probably even watching us as we speak." Martin and Bryn gazed across the street at the big houses set back from the road as Danny continued. "I think we should take the boys out and make a big fuss of putting them in the Land Rover. We can get the other ladies and their kids to wave them off. Then we can take them to a safer place where we would have more control over the situation. Bryn's guys can decrease the Police presence here and Superintendent Cunningham can sleep soundly in his bed, safe in the knowledge that Jarvis was, once again, someone else's problem."

Bryn laughed out loud at this remark.

"Brilliant idea," he said. "Where will you take them?"

"Not sure at the moment. Martin, will you check in with DCI Green and get him to arrange a safe house? Bryn, you and I will have to have a chat with Alice Clavell and let her know what we are going to do."

Martin took out his mobile phone as Danny and Bryn walked towards the house.

"You really think this chap is watching what's going on?" asked Bryn.

"I'd bet my badge on it," replied Danny. "Wherever he is he's not far away."

The two boys looked on in horror as their father closed the bedroom door behind him. Thomas gave a little whimper of fear as he realised his father was in the room but Elliot remained silent. He knew better than to make any noise. He was old enough to fully understand that his father was not supposed to be here and he also knew why the Police were outside. Nobody had told Elliot but he knew, he had seen and heard so many unpleasant things in his short life that he was far more clued up than anybody gave him credit for, except Linda, of course. He missed his Mother so badly and desperately wanted her right now. The boys had not seen their Mother for several days and didn't know where she was or even if they would ever see her again. Now, the worst imaginable thing in the world had happened, their father had walked back into their lives.

The boys huddled closer together on the bed and watched as their father crossed the room and, keeping well back from the window, gazed down at the three Police officers at the end of the drive. Jarvis turned back to his lads and grinned.

"Guess what boys, you're coming on a little trip with Daddy. We're going camping."

Elliot still said nothing. Thomas looked back at his father, tears rolling silently down his face.

"I want Mummy," he whispered. Elliot squeezed his hand reassuringly.

"Well you'll have to wait a little longer to see her," Jarvis said a little too sharply and regretted it instantly as he saw the little boy's lip quivering.

He smiled and sat on the bed opposite.

"Mummy is getting the camp ready for us," he lied and, seeing the boy's face change, continued. "Mummy and Daddy have made up. We are getting back together and we're all going to live as a family again."

Elliot knew this was a lie, he knew his mother would never agree to get back with his father but also knew better than to say so. For one thing, he did not relish the thought of the beating that his father would almost certainly give him but, for another, he knew that Thomas needed hope. Since their Mother had disappeared, Thomas had been withdrawn and desperately unhappy. All he wanted to do was curl up in the foetal position on his bed and cry. Seeing his little face light up now lifted Elliot's heart. Even though he knew that his father was lying, Thomas could not destroy the little bit of hope that his younger brother now clung to like a lifeline.

Jarvis stood and walked back to the window. One of the plain-clothed men started to make a phone call whilst the other, together with the uniformed officer, started walking towards the house. Jarvis realised that he had made it this far but had not really thought his plan through, he had no idea how he was going to get the boys out again. Looking back at the boys huddled together on the bed he came to a decision. He was going to try to take them out the same way as he came in, but that was going to be tricky.

"Get your shoes and coats on," he smiled. "We're going to see Mummy."

Just then a loud knock on the front door was clearly audible.

"Quickly," he snapped.

The boys jumped off the bed and scrambled to find their shoes.

Alice Clavell opened the door to the two Policemen.

"Come in, Gentlemen," she smiled.

"Miss Clavell," said Danny as they entered the hallway. "We have decided it would be better for everyone if we moved the boys to a safer environment. That way we can protect them better and take the danger away from the rest of the residents here."

Alice breathed a small sigh of relief. Whilst she was concerned for the safety of the boys, she was also concerned about the safety of everyone else at Rowan House. If that man managed to find his way in to the building, Lord knows what he could do.

"That sounds like a very good idea," she said. Then turning to a woman who was passing through the hallway on her way to the lounge she said, "Oh Maureen, be a love and show these gentlemen to Linda Jarvis's rooms would you, Dear?"

"Certainly," she placed her cup down on a small table in the hall. "If you'd like to follow me?"

They started to ascend the stairs and were about half way to the second floor when Maureen laughed.

"Funny isn't it," she said, "in all the years I've worked here I can't remember us ever having the Police on the premises and yet this is the second time this evening that I've shown a Policeman up to the third floor."

"What do you mean?" asked Danny.

"Earlier," she explained, "the officer who was sent in to guard the boys in their room."

Danny and Bryn exchanged glances.

"I didn't detail any officer to guard the boys," Bryn looked concerned.

Danny grabbed Maureen's arm and stopped her on the stairs.

"Maureen, who let this officer in the house?" he asked.

"Nobody, he came in through the kitchen," she answered. "Goodness, he did make me jump. I opened the kitchen door and he was just standing there in the darkness. Frightened the life out of me I can tell you."

"What did he say?" asked Danny.

"Nothing much, seemed a nice man. He apologised for startling me and said he was sent in to guard the boys and asked me if I would show him to their rooms."

"Can you describe the officer?" asked Danny.

"Why? Is something wrong?" Maureen looked concerned now.

"Please," urged Danny, "It's important."

"Oh my God," Maureen's hands went up to her mouth, "do you think that could have been the boys' father?"

"Maureen. Please! Can you describe him?"

"Well . . . he was kind of tall . . . about six foot maybe. Very big built but I didn't get a good look at his face as his cap was pulled down low. He looked down a lot too, I thought he may be a bit, you know . . . shy. Oh, and he had some dried blood on the collar of his tunic. I thought at first that he may have cut himself shaving, but he had stubble . . . said he had been off duty and hadn't had time to shave."

"So he was wearing a Police uniform?" asked Bryn.

"Yes, I had no reason to doubt that he wasn't a real Police Officer."

"I bloody knew it," Danny thumped the wall.

Bryn nodded in agreement.

"I'd better let the men know," he said. "This changes everything."

Whilst Bryn got on his radio to call for back up Danny asked Maureen to give him directions to Linda's rooms. He then asked her to go back downstairs with Bryn.

"Bryn," he asked, "can you ask Miss Clavell to round up all the people downstairs and shut them in the lounge out of harm's way? Can you also let Martin know what's going on and get him in here pronto?"

"Of course," the Welshman replied.

"Thanks. We'll try to get as many people as possible downstairs or locked in their rooms. Martin and I will head up to the third floor and try to take this guy down."

"Be careful," urged Bryn. "As soon as I have this lot organised I'll bring a couple of chaps up to help out."

Bryn shepherded Maureen back downstairs and Danny continued up to the second floor. Keeping an eye on the stairs leading down from the third floor, he made his way along the corridor knocking gently on each door and alerting any residents who were in their rooms. Some chose to go downstairs but most locked and barricaded themselves in their rooms. As he was making his way back along the corridor, Martin appeared at the top of the stairs.

"Christ," he gasped, I didn't realise how unfit I was getting."

Danny clapped Martin on the shoulder and laughed.

"Come on," he said, heading towards the next flight of stairs.

Slowly, they climbed the stairs, moving as silently as they could. Finally, they reached the top of the stairs and turned right. As they stepped into the corridor they noticed that the second door along stood open a fraction. Danny unholstered his taser and used hand signals to Martin to slow down as they approached. Standing either side of the door, on Danny's signal he kicked the door fully open and they rushed into the room. Taking in the scene it was obvious that they were too late. Martin checked out the empty bedrooms whilst Danny crouched beside Brenda and removed her gag.

"Where did they go?" he asked as he unlocked the handcuffs.

"He took the boys and left about five minutes ago," she sobbed.

"Okay, you stay here Brenda and lock the door after us. Don't let anyone in until we tell you it's safe to do so, understand."

Brenda nodded and, rubbing her wrists, struggled to her feet. Danny and Martin left the room again and, as they entered the corridor they saw Jarvis exiting a room directly opposite the stairs. Seeing the two policemen, Jarvis, holding Thomas tightly by the wrist, pushed Elliot ahead of him and started to run down the stairs.

"JARVIS," shouted Danny, "STOP!"

The two men raced after them turning the corner in time to see Jarvis and the boys on the half-landing. Danny pointed his taser and fired at the big man. Jarvis threw himself against the wall almost knocking Elliot over. The electrodes hit the wall and fell to the ground useless. Throwing his spent taser to the floor the two policemen continued after them. Jarvis was on the second floor by the time Danny and Martin reached the half-landing. As they too reached the second floor landing Jarvis and the boys were nearing the top of the second staircase. Jarvis stopped momentarily when he saw Bryn three steps from the top of the stairs. With only a moment's hesitation, Jarvis let go of his son's wrist and ran towards the Sergeant. Bryn was taken by surprise at the speed of the man and was not quick enough to dodge as Jarvis's right foot hit him square in the chest and he went over backwards. Bryn looked up in time to see Thomas race past his father and down the steps.

"THOMAS!" shouted Jarvis as the boy leapt into the arms of one of the officers following Bryn. The officer turned and immediately hurried back down the stairs carrying the frightened child.

Jarvis turned, grabbed Elliot's wrist and continued to run down the corridor dragging the lad behind him. Danny and Martin started after them.

"DANNY!" called Bryn, "Here, catch!"

Danny slowed as he passed the stairs. From his crumple position on the stairs Bryn threw a bright yellow object in Danny's direction. Danny caught the object in mid air and grinned.

"Thanks Bryn," he called as they continued the chase.

At the far end of the corridor Jarvis stopped and tried the door handle of the last room. To his surprise the door was unlocked. Dragging his young son after him, Jarvis ran into the room. He let go of the boy's arm and the child fell heavily and rolled across the floor. Slamming the door shut, Jarvis locked it and dragged a sideboard across in front of it. A woman suddenly appeared from one of the bedrooms and stopped dead on seeing a Police Officer and a crying child in her room.

"What the hell is going on?" she demanded.

Jarvis took three paced towards her and punched her hard in the face. The woman staggered backwards a few feet, cracking her head against the door frame, and fell unconscious to the floor. Elliot sobbed as he looked on in terror. Jarvis walked over to the window over-looking the back garden. Just as he had hoped, a few feet below them, the flat roof of the extension stretched out away from the house.

Danny's voice boomed out in the empty corridor.

"Jarvis. Let the boy go and give your self up. You can't get away. We have the entire building surrounded. It's over Jarvis."

Jarvis looked around as the door shook with a loud thud.

"Over here now," he hissed.

Elliot got to his feet and did as his father demanded. Jarvis flicked the catch on the window and slid the sash up as high as it would go. The cool night air gushed into the room sending a chill through Elliot.

Another loud thud shook the door. Jarvis lifted the boy up and held him out of the window. The sash cord was weak so Jarvis had to hold the window up with his shoulder as he struggled to lift the boy out.

"No, Daddy. No," the terrified boy dangled in his fathers grip, his legs flailing.

"Keep quiet and keep still," spat Jarvis. "You only have to drop three feet. Ready?"

Another hard thud on the door and this time the lock gave way.

Before the boy could reply his father let go and he fell the few short feet to the roof of the extension. Jarvis looked back into the room at the sideboard starting to slide as the two men in the corridor pushed hard against the door. Holding the window up, Jarvis lifted one leg out of the window. He was sitting, straddling the window sill as Danny burst into the room. Assessing the situation in an instant, Danny lifted the bright yellow X26 taser and pointed it at the fleeing man.

"Jarvis, stop or I'll fire," he commanded.

Jarvis laughed and ducked his head under the window sash. Danny pressed the trigger on the device and heard the explosive hiss of the small nitrogen gas charge. From out of the cartridge two pointed electrodes streaked across the room, hitting Jarvis in the side and in the back. This time the barbed electrodes clung tightly to his clothing as the device discharged in excess of five thousand volts into the man. Jarvis screamed as his body convulsed. Still lucid despite the agony of the electric current flowing through him, Jarvis threw himself forward and his weight pulled him out of the window. The electrodes were ripped from his body as he crashed in a heap on the flat roof, narrowly missing his young son. After only a second or two he was on his hands and knees scrambling to the edge of the roof. Looking over into the neighbouring garden he stepped off the roof and onto the top of the perimeter wall only a couple of feet below.

"Come on," he lifted Elliot down and made him sit on the top of the wall."

Jarvis looked back in time to see Danny climbing out of the window behind him. He jumped down from the wall, landing on the path running around the side of the house.

"Jump," he shouted, "I'll catch you."

Elliot sat frozen to the spot. The wall was six feet high but it seemed far more to the terrified child. Jarvis reached up and grabbed the boy's ankle and pulled him off the wall. Elliot screamed as fell through the air. His shirt rode up and he grazed his back against the brickwork as he descended. Before he hit the ground, his father grabbed him and tucked him under his arm. As Danny dropped to the flat roof, Jarvis was running down the next-door driveway carrying his son. Danny leapt from the rooftop to the path in one jump. As his feet hit the ground he threw himself forward and rolled. The Police training centre he had attended had shared a lot of their facilities with the nearby Air Force training centre and the many hours of parachute training they had been forced to endure were now paying off. Scrambling to his feet again, he took off down the drive. As he reached the end of the drive he saw Jarvis bundling Elliot into the front of a Police cruiser parked in front of Rowan House. Jarvis pushed the boy into the passenger seat and climbed in beside him. Danny ran towards the car as the engine fired up. He heard voices and looked up the driveway to see Martin, Bryn and a few officers running down the drive towards them. The tyres screeched as the Police car pulled away from the kerb. Danny ran into the road but, on realising that Jarvis was coming straight at him with no intentions of stopping, jumped back to the safety of the footpath. As the car disappeared down the road, Danny ran to the Land Rover.

"Quickly," he shouted as Martin raced towards the car.

Bryn and a couple of other officers ran towards another Police cruiser parked a few yards down the road. The engine of Danny's Land Rover fired into life. He was grateful that it had the bigger petrol engine as they stood a better chance of catching up with Jarvis. He flicked on his siren and flashing lights as he saw the Police car Jarvis was driving reach the corner at the end of the avenue and turn left. He gunned the big V8 and raced off down the street in pursuit. At the end of the road he too turned left and accelerated away. He could see the car's tail lights and was grateful that the traffic had quietened down from the earlier rush hour. As it weaved through the city Danny was pleased he had the power under the bonnet but wished the vehicle was a little more manoeuvrable. Because of the Land Rover's height and suspension, cornering at high speed was an experience. Luckily, as soon as they saw the lights and heard the sirens, most people moved out of his way so the number of sharp manoeuvres he had to make was reduced considerably. Danny realised that his lights and siren gave him the advantage in the pursuit but became disheartened as the lights on the roof of Jarvis's car suddenly burst into life. Immediately, other road users started to respond by moving out of his way and the stolen police car accelerated.

Swinging around Clifton Triangle against the on-coming traffic, Jarvis turned into Berkeley Place and hurtled down Jacob's Wells Road.

"Hold on," Danny pulled across the road and followed, narrowly missing a bus that was coming around the corner. Once clear of the junction he put his foot on the gas once more. A quick glance in his rear-view mirror saw Bryn's cruiser following him through the now stationary traffic.

At the bottom on the road Jarvis took a right at the roundabout into Hotwell Road.

"Where do you think he's heading?" Martin asked.

"My guess is he will head out through Shirehampton to join the motorway at Avonmouth," replied Danny. "I think he wants to put some miles between us."

Jarvis's car seemed to pull away from them as they followed him around the bend into Merchants Road. As they followed the A4, Danny was surprised when Jarvis, instead of taking the left lane to follow the river, took the right lane and turned into Brunel Way. Now on the dual carriageway, Jarvis floored the accelerator. The big BMW lurched forward and started pulling away from its pursuers. Danny also put his foot down but the distance between the two cars kept growing. As he turned on to the A370 Jarvis laughed. He reached up and flicked the switch that cut off the blue flashing lights. Glancing in his mirror he could see the lights of the following cars a good half a mile behind. He thought that if he could put enough distance between them then he may be able to turn off somewhere and lose them. He leaned forward in his seat and rubbed his back with his left hand. The muscles in his back hurt like hell where they had been forced into spasm by the taser. As he ran his fingers down his spine he felt the hilt of the hunting knife that was tucked into his waistband at the back. He pulled it out, threw it on the dashboard above the instrument panel and looked over at his son. Elliot sat silently in the passenger seat, his hands gripping tightly on to the seat belt that ran across his chest. His frightened expression never changed as he stared out of the windscreen at the road ahead.

At least he had one of his kids, thought Jarvis. He was really pissed off with Thomas running off like that but he had to admit that it would have been a damn sight more difficult to get away with that little brat in tow too. In a way he was pleased that the kid was gone. He didn't really have much time for the snivelling little Mummy's Boy. He knew the child didn't really like him and the feeling was mutual. Elliot was different. On the couple of occasions when they had gone fishing or camping together they'd had a good time. He knew that there was a lot of ground to be covered before the boy forgave him for the beating he had given him, but Jarvis was sure he could win Elliot around.

As they approached the village of Congresbury, Jarvis slowed and glanced in his mirror, his pursuers were not in sight. As he crossed the bridge over the River Yeo, he took a left turn at the bend in the road. Increased his speed after negotiating a right-hand bend at the other end of the High Street, he hoped he had given the Police the slip as he sped out the other side of the village.

A little way behind Danny slowed as they approached the bend. He knew that after this bend the A370 continued on in a straight line for about a mile. Glancing to his right as he came over the river, he saw no tail lights from Jarvis's car, so swung the steering wheel hard to the left. The Land Rover wallowed on its suspension and Martin grabbed the edge of the dashboard to stop from being thrown into Danny. Bryn driving the following car, braked hard as he came over the bridge and with tyres screeching and smoking he followed the Land Rover to the left. As they careened through the village Danny asked Martin to turn off the blue lights.

"Why?" asked Martin.

"Because he can see us a mile off," replied Danny.

In the following car Bryn saw the Land Rover's lights go out and, guessing Danny's reasoning, extinguished his own lights.

As they came out of the other side of the village, Danny saw the tail lights of Jarvis's car in the distance just before it disappeared around a left-hand bend.

Jarvis was sure he had lost his pursuers but did not slow down. He wanted to put as many miles between them as possible. As they approached the village of Langford the road narrowed and they entered a series of bends. The hunting knife on the dashboard slid from left to right as Jarvis negotiated the bends at speed. Eventually, they passed the Veterinary College and Jarvis turned left at the roundabout. A minute later Danny approached the roundabout and turned right. A hundred yards on he stopped at the junction with the A38.

"Shit," said Danny, "which way."

"Right," suggested Martin, "I think he would head west. The other way heads back towards Bristol."

"No," said Danny pulling out to the left, "the Mendips are his stomping ground. I think he's heading this way."

A little way further down on they saw a car cross over the road about two hundred yards ahead. Their headlights illuminated the silver fluorescent strip along its side.

"Bingo!" laughed Danny.

The car was already out of sight as Danny turned the Land Rover right into Langford Lane. The road was narrow with many bends. Jarvis sped along, the bushes at the side of the road brushing against the nearside door. Without slowing down, Jarvis entered a bend to the left followed immediately by another to the right. As the Police car lurched around the curve in the road the hunting knife slid along the dashboard at high speed, hitting the quarter pillar and falling off onto the floor. Elliot had to move his legs quickly out of the way as the knife fell into the foot well. He turned and glared at his father.

"Sorry Buddy," his father laughed.

As Jarvis continued to drive he did not notice Elliot sliding the knife across the rubber mat with his foot. The boy pushed the weapon until it was up between the door sill and the seat runner. Elliot put his foot on the knife to stop it sliding about and relaxed a little.

Realising that he had been driving a little too fast, and safe in the knowledge that he had shaken off the police, Jarvis slowed the vehicle down a bit. His muscles still ached like hell but he was feeling less on edge. At the end of the lane he turned right and then, after a few yards, left and started his ascent into Burrington Combe. Not far behind, as he approached the junction, Danny could see the Police car's lights as it climbed the hill. Bryn followed close behind as Danny took the same route. The trees closed in around them as they ascended the narrow, winding road up through the Combe, the light from their headlights bouncing off the limestone cliffs either side of the road.

At the top of the hill the road curved around to the right and continued straight for a couple of miles. About half a mile on Jarvis noticed the headlights of two cars in his rear-view mirror. He saw no blue lights so assumed they were ordinary road users. Only a few hundred yards behind, Danny had his prey in sight. On the straight, wide road he pushed his foot down and listened to the growl of the huge V8 engine as it went to work. The big all-terrain tyres gripped the tarmac as they ate up the distance between them. Bryn was glad that, although his Volvo had a much smaller engine, its turbo charger enabled him to keep up with Danny.

After another half mile Jarvis was surprised to see that the following vehicles had halved the distance between them. He was not overly concerned but increased his speed a little. When he eventually reached the junction with the Old Bristol Road and turned right they were only a few hundred yards behind him. He continued on to the small town of Wells where he took the A371 towards Shepton Mallet.

The two Police cars followed at a safe distance. Danny did not want to get too close in case Jarvis realise and made a run for it again, but he didn't want to stay too far back and risk losing him again either. There was a risk that Jarvis might hear any radio broadcasts so Martin changed the frequency on the radio and contacted their headquarters.

The same thought had crossed Bryn's mind as they were leaving Burrington Combe. He had changed frequency and contacted base. The radio operator patched him through to Superintendent Cunningham who listened intently as Bryn explained what had happened.

"So where are you now?" asked Cunningham.

Bryn knew exactly what Cunningham was going to say next and was ready for him.

"Sorry Sir, bad signal. Lost you a there. Please can you repeat?" Bryn looked at the young constable sitting alongside him and grinned. The officer grinned back.

"I said, where are you now?"

"Sorry Sir, still didn't get that. We'll continue the pursuit and try another frequency."

"No," Cunningham shouted into the microphone. "Stand Down, I repeat, Stand Down. Do not continue with the pursuit. That is an order. Do you understand?"

"Sorry Sir, that was completely garbled. I'll update if there are any developments. Out."

"You'll be in for it when we get back Sarge," said the young officer.

"I'll worry about that when the time comes," grinned Bryn.

Behind the wheel of the stolen Police car, Jarvis was formulating another plan, he was heading back in the general direction of Shellington. Now that the Police knew who he was they would not be expecting him to return there but, having spent most of his life in the area he knew the surrounding countryside like the back of his hand. He knew all the wooded areas and places that most people did not even know existed. He would set up camp and work on rebuilding his relationship with his son. He knew it would not be easy but once the boy knew that his mother was dead he would have no one else to turn to.

Jarvis had been making good time until he reached the small town of Castle Cary. As he entered the town from the north his way was blocked by workmen. The road side was littered with Water Department vans, their amber flashing lights bouncing off the surrounding buildings up and down the street. As he approached a man with a hand-held STOP sign stepped in front of him. A mechanical digger was changing its position in the road to scoop out more earth from a large hole that had been dug in the tarmac. Water bubbled out of the hole and ran down the road towards his car. He brought the car to a halt in front of the man who raised his hand in a gesture of thanks.

As Jarvis and Elliot sat watching the cumbersome yellow digger manoeuvring, Danny saw they had a chance of stopping Jarvis. He gunned the accelerator and hit the blue lights. In the car behind, Bryn followed Danny's lead and the two cars raced towards the stationary Police car.

Jarvis glanced in his rear-view mirror and realised what was happening. Ramming the car in gear he shot forward hitting the workman standing in front. The man was thrown up onto the bonnet of the car before tipping off backwards, over the nearside wing and on to the road. Jarvis drove at the digger and at the last minute veered across the road and onto the pavement. The gap between the digger and the house was smaller than he had anticipated and as he tried to squeeze past at speed, the right wing hit the front wall of the building causing the car to bounce sideways into the rear of the JCB. Elliot screamed as the car hit the digger, snapping off the nearside wing mirror and smashing the window in the passenger door as they crashed through the gap.

"DADDY PLEASE STOP!" screamed Elliot as Jarvis pulled back onto the road and pressed hard on the gas pedal.

One workman ran to the aid of his fallen colleague whilst another dialled 999 from his mobile. The driver of the digger at first sat stunned in his cab then, realisation dawned on him as he turned and saw the two Police cars rapidly approaching. Putting the big mechanical beast into gear he pulled forward a few feet leaving enough room for Danny and Bryn to drive behind him. The two police cars squeezed through the gap and Danny put his foot on the gas once more.

Once past, Bryn stopped the car and told the young officer to get out and help the injured workman. The young man jumped out, ran around to the back of the vehicle and grabbed the First Aid Kit from the boot. No sooner had he slammed the boot lid down again than Bryn took off after Danny.

In less than fifteen minutes Danny saw Jarvis's car turn right at a roundabout and take the slip road on to the A303.

"Get on the radio and see if you can rustle up the chopper from Devizes," he suggested.

Martin did as requested and within a couple of minutes they relaxed a little in the knowledge that the helicopter had been scrambled and was on its way.

"Where do you think he's heading?" asked Martin.

"No idea, but we mustn't let him out of our sight. Trust him to pick a bloody pursuit vehicle," Danny was frustrated as Jarvis was clearly increasing the distance between them.

He glanced in his mirror to see another set of flashing blue lights in the distance behind him and smiled. He liked Bryn a lot and was pleased that he was still with them. The chase continued for another ten miles or so before Jarvis saw the turning he was after. A small slip road curved off to the left and back under the road to continue south across country. As they came out from under the A303 the high hedges either side hid them from view from the dual carriage-way and Jarvis laughed.

Elliot, realised that the following Police cars, not seeing them leave the main road, would probably miss the turning. Sitting up in his seat he reached up and pressed one of the buttons on the console surrounding the rear-view mirror. Instantly the roof lights burst into action, spinning and flashing their blue and red beams.

"YOU STUPID LITTLE BASTARD, WHAT DID YOU DO THAT FOR?" shouted Jarvis as he slapped his son's hand away from the control and flicked off the lights before back-handing the boy in the face.

"LOOK THERE!" Martin pointed across the field on the opposite side of the road.

Danny followed his gaze just in time to see the blue lights being extinguished.

"Shit!" he exclaimed as he realised they were only yards away from the turning.

Danny slammed on the brakes and just managed to make it around the slip road without rolling the Land Rover. As they came out from underneath the dual carriageway the height of the Land Rover gave Bryn a much clearer view of their lights sticking up above the top of the hedgerow. The Welshman started to slow as he approached the turning and followed them on to the B3089.

The wind whistled through the broken side window of the car as Jarvis careened along the country road. The steering wheel shook violently as he tried to take the bends in the road. He assumed, correctly, that the steering had been damaged in the collision with the building. This did not slow him down though, his main priority was to get away from the Police. On and on they sped, all the time Elliot sat crying silently in the passenger seat. He was shaking, partly with fear and partly from the icy blast that rushed in through the broken window. Suddenly he was thrown against the door as Jarvis swerved violently off to the right following an even narrower road.

The hedgerow had decreased in height so Danny and Martin had no difficulty in following the car's progress as they looked across the open fields. Turning right they continued the chase and, as they approached the village of Tisbury, they spotted Jarvis exiting the village to their left. In the centre of the village they too took the sharp left onto the Chicksgrove Road. The road being fairly straight meant that the chase sped up. Danny, in hot pursuit, could still see the tail lights of Jarvis's car up ahead.

"Here come the Cavalry," laughed Martin, leaning forward in his seat and looking up into the western sky. "He won't get away now."

Danny ducked his head down and looked up to where Martin was pointing. He could see the flashing strobe navigation lights of the Police Helicopter.

"Ha," he laughed, "You can run Jarvis, but you can't hide now."

From his lower position in the car Elliot had also seen the helicopter, silhouetted against the lightening sky to the east, as it closed in on them across the fields. He looked at his father who was concentrating on driving and was oblivious to the chopper. Elliot had seen many Police programmes on TV and knew that once the helicopter joined the pursuit there was very little chance of a criminal getting away. If he could only get his father to stop the car it would be over that much quicker.

Jarvis started to slow as they approached a bend to the right. As they started to enter the bend Elliot could see a railway line off to the left. He suddenly had an idea. Reaching down with his left hand he felt the cold steel of the hunting knife's blade. He ran his hand along it until he could feel the hard rubber of the hilt. His small hand closed around it as he lifted it slowly off the floor. As Jarvis fought against the juddering as he steered the car out of the bend, Elliot turned quickly in his seat and plunged the knife into his father's side, just below his ribcage.

Jarvis yelled in agony and grabbed for the knife. As he did he lost hold of the steering wheel. The car swerved to the left clipping the parapet of the railway bridge. It bounced across the road and glanced off the opposite wall. For a second Elliot had visions of them crashing through the wall and plunging to the railway line below. As the out of control vehicle came off the opposite wall they swerved back across the road. Jarvis instinctively stamped hard on the brake pedal. The patrol car narrowly missed the end of the wall of the bridge and came to rest, nose down in a small drainage ditch at the side of the road. Jarvis was thrown forward and yelled in pain as he smacked his face on the steering wheel.

In a flash, Elliot pressed the button releasing his seat belt and dived to his left and out of the open window. Jarvis grabbed at the boy, his huge hand grasping his son's foot. Elliot fell, face down against the door, wriggling and kicking to get away. As he thrashed, his trainer slipped off and he tumbled to the ground. In a second he was up and running back across the bridge. Jarvis flung open the car door and struggled out, the boy's shoe in one hand and the other hand pressed hard against the knife wound in his side. He flung the trainer to the ground and took off after his son.

"COME BACK HERE YOU LITTLE BASTARD!" he yelled.

Elliot ran as fast as he could. Crossing back over the road he made for the fence that continued on from the bridge parapet. Scrambling between the bars he slid through the grass and brambles down the embankment to the railway line. He could hear the helicopter overhead as it decreased its altitude to get a better look. Jarvis struggled over the fence, more determined than ever to get the boy. He was going to teach the little shit a lesson he would never forget.

As Jarvis reached the bottom of the embankment Danny pulled the Land Rover to a halt on the bridge. Martin picked up the radio handset and called for back up as Danny leapt out of the driver's seat and ran to the fence.

"JARVIS!" he shouted.

Jarvis looked around to see the Policeman climbing over the fence and took off in pursuit of his boy.

Elliot was a good thirty yards in front of his father but because the grass at the side was so uneven he twisted his ankle. He cried out in pain and limped on to the stone gravel alongside the railway line where the surface was more even. The stones hurt his feet but he hobbled on. Jarvis, seeing the boy was hurt made more of an effort. Within a couple of minutes he was only a few yards behind his son. Looking back, Elliot suddenly realised how close his father was to catching him. In an effort to get away he veered left and tried to dash across the line. Jarvis reached out and grabbed at his jacket. As he tried to dodge the hand, Elliot misjudged his footing and tripped over the iron rail, landing hard on the gravel bed on the opposite side of the track. Jarvis stopped and stood, breathing hard and looking down at his son.

"I'm gonna teach you," he said and started to move towards the boy.

Elliot's hand closed around a lump of gravel almost the size of his fist.

"GET AWAY FROM ME, I HATE YOU!" he screamed and tried to scramble backwards away from his father.

As Jarvis took another step closer, Elliot twisted around and flung the missile as hard as he could at his father. The rock struck Jarvis square on the cheek with a dull thud. The big man yelled in pain and staggered backwards a couple of paces.

"NO!" shouted Danny who stopped dead on the other side of the track. His words were drowned out by the roar of the express train as it tore down the line between him and the boy.

Standing between the tracks, Jarvis never saw it coming. He was struck square on by the train and was thrown twelve feet into the air before his lifeless broken body hit the ground with a sickening thud some thirty yards further along the embankment. When the last of the carriages had flashed past and the train receded down the line, Danny crossed the track and knelt by the boy who sat silently staring at the crumpled body of his father.

Danny looked back towards the bridge in time to see Bryn's car coming to a halt behind the Land Rover. He could hear the droning of the helicopter as it attempted to land in an adjacent field and he looked back at the boy.

Elliot held his hand up to see blood running down his finger.

"I'm bleeding," he said.

Danny took a handkerchief from his pocket and wrapped it around the boy's finger where the sharp rock had cut into his hand.

"Come on, let's get you back to the car so we can patch that up," he said, helping the lad to his feet.

Hand in hand, they walked slowly back towards the bridge.

"Daddy can't hurt us any more can he?" Elliot looked up at Danny as they started to climb back up the embankment.

"No he can't," answered Danny, glancing back over his shoulder at the body lying in the grass.

"Do you know where Mummy is?" Elliot asked hopefully.

Danny looked back at the boy and smiled.

"Yes I do and as soon as we've patched up your hand we're going to take you to see her."

Bryn opened the back door of his patrol car and the boy climbed in, holding his hand up so as not to get blood on the seat.

Elliot thought for a moment.

"Can we stop off at McDonalds on the way?" he grinned.

###

### About the Author

Doug Hilditch is happily married to his wife, Tess and they live in Somerset, UK with their two cats. Doug works as a Fraud Risk Analyst/Investigator. His hobbies include writing, travelling and music.

By the same author

### Morgan's Inheritance

