‘Right – so here’s what we know, or can assume given that he left via the fire escape. From there he makes it down to the street, a stranger in a strange town, so to speak. If I was him, I’d head towards somewhere I know. Or something I know. That means whatever he used to get into town.’

‘A bicycle,’ recalled Chandler.

‘Exactly. But cycling out of town is conspicuous. And we know no cars, or large vehicles, have been reported stolen. This leaves something smaller, a quad bike perhaps? Something like that might not be noticed by the owner for a while. Especially if it was stowed in a barn.’

‘Okay, let’s suppose that,’ said Chandler, coat-tailing his young constable’s assumptions. ‘Then where? All the way out of town on a quad? And further? Pretty dangerous once it gets dark with the ’roos licking dew off the white lines.’

‘Back roads?’

‘Possibly. Hard for us to cover.’

‘Or he stayed in town,’ offered Nick.

‘Possible,’ said Chandler, ‘but there aren’t too many places for a stranger to hide here. And he said he was in fear of his life. Scared people don’t stay still.’

‘Assuming he’s innocent, of course,’ said Nick. ‘If I was a killer on the run, I’d look for someone to get me out of town.’

Chandler nodded, as impressed with Nick’s deduction as he was with the zeal with which it was delivered. He added to it. ‘Maybe he acts like a lost tourist. He’s picked up people blagging lifts or has blagged lifts himself so knows what to say, what to do. He uses his charm to get into the car and forces them to drive him out of town.’

‘It’s how I’d do it,’ said Nick.

‘That’s good thinking, Nick,’ said Chandler. ‘Get on to Tanya, Luka and Jim and tell them to be on the lookout for locals heading out of town, in case it’s under duress. Get them to check the vehicles but warn them to be subtle about it – don’t escalate things.’

‘I could be your resident expert on this,’ said Nick, quickly undoing some of his good work. ‘I have an insight into how a serial killer’s mind works.’

Chandler was about to remind him that police work had little to do with TV but was interrupted. Heath was calling for attention.

Leaving Nick on the phone to Jim, Chandler entered the holding area.

‘Who’s that?’ barked Heath from inside the cell.

‘Sergeant Jenkins,’ said Chandler and shook his head in disgust. The disease of using formal titles was catching.

‘You can’t keep me in here, Sergeant! I don’t wanna be trapped while Gabriel’s loose out there.’

‘For all we know he’s escaping from you,’ Chandler reminded him.

‘You know fuck all.’ Heath paused. ‘We can’t both be suspects for the same thing.’