The direction the conversation had taken caused the hairs to stand on the back of Chandler’s neck. ‘And how did you make him do that?’

From being open and talkative Mr Wilson suddenly clammed up. It left Chandler to guess how: lessons, chores, lectures or worse. Something disturbing enough to turn an orphan into a killer. He decided to tread carefully. ‘When did David – Gabriel – leave?’

‘At eighteen.’ A brusqueness had developed in the voice. A need to finish this call. ‘And he hasn’t been back since. We don’t want him back. He turned our house into a den of sin, Sergeant, a den of sin. Like something from Sodom and Gomorrah, harlots invading my house, parading around as naked as Eve in the Garden of Eden. Me and my wife had to scrub the floors and furniture clean.’

There was a rustle from the handset on the other side and Chandler thought he could hear sobbing. The gravelly tone was replaced by a woman’s voice. Dina.

‘You’ve upset my husband, Sergeant. We just want to forget all about that boy. That Devil child!’ She spat this out. And hung up.

Chandler leaned back in the chair, letting it all soak in. From lacking any credible leads, he was struggling to identify the most lucrative avenue to follow. What he did know was that something had happened in that house. A set of foster parents trying to instil their zealous beliefs into a vulnerable teenager, leading to an event, or series of events that sent young Gabriel over the edge.

42

With a theory and the foundations of some evidence Chandler went to corner Mitch again.

And nearly made it. But for the phone call. It was one of hundreds that had come into the station, offering information on the man they were busy hunting. But this time the caller was different – it was Gabriel himself.

From the front desk Nick waved his hands frantically, catching Chandler’s attention. Covering the microphone on the headset, he whispered, ‘It’s him.’

The station immediately went quiet. Everyone knew who the young constable meant. None more so than Mitch, who charged out of his office to demand that the call be put straight through to him.

The officers gathered around the meeting table in what had once been Chandler’s office. Perched by the speaker-phone Mitch glared at each one of them. ‘Everyone stay quiet. I’m doing the talking,’ he said, jabbing a finger at his chest to hammer home the point.

The light on the phone started to blink. This was it. Mitch switched the phone on to speaker and pressed the button.

‘Mr Wils—’

Gabriel interrupted immediately.

‘I’m calling to let you know that I’ve changed my target for the moment.’

Mitch quickly recovered his stride. ‘Changed from?’ he asked.

‘Instead of fifty-five I’m taking ninety.’