Chandler steered Heath into the cell. He was like a drunk after a heavy night, manoeuvred without trouble or resistance. Not what Chandler would have considered the conduct of a dangerous killer. But what was the conduct of a dangerous killer?

As he entered his former office, Mitch was flicking the mouse furiously, eyes cast on the glowing screen.

‘So . . . do you believe his story? Or Gabriel’s?’

Mitch tore his eyes away from the screen. His voice was flat; he clearly hadn’t forgotten that Chandler had confronted him in the interview room. ‘Mr Barwell’s story seems plausible, even more so with the continued absence of our second suspect. We need to find him and find out who this Seth might be.’ With that his eyes returned to the screen, the store closed, blinds drawn.

Chandler sat down at Tanya’s desk and got to work. He felt like a dog that, despite the constant abuse, came running back to its master. He forced himself to focus on the job in front of him. In the database for Missing Persons he trawled for people named Seth, hoping to find a match. The search engine brought up a result immediately. A complete blank. He recalibrated it to include the last decade. Murdering fifty-four people without drawing undue attention would take some time, even for the most brilliant mind – which Heath was certainly not. Or so it seemed. Again the search drew a blank. No Seths. He began to think that the name was the barely remembered thought of a frightened man.

Or an intentionally false lead to distract them.

Frustrated at being mocked and cast aside, then brought back into the fold only to immediately hit a dead end, he leaned back in the chair. Staring out the window at Gardner’s Hill in the distance, Chandler’s feet jack-hammered on the floor with growing impatience. The impatience forced an idea through. So far they had been unable to locate Gabriel but that didn’t mean they couldn’t locate the place both had described in detail: the woodshed. Gabriel might even have wound his way back to it seeking shelter, confident the police wouldn’t be able to find it.

‘I have to get out of here, Nick,’ he whispered, even though Mitch was tucked away in the office and Yohan and Suze were wrapped up in their own tasks. ‘I’m going to try the Hill. They both mentioned the same shack, so it must exist.’

‘Yeah, but they both claimed not to know where it was,’ Nick reminded him.

‘It must be somewhere near Turtle’s. Where Heath was caught trying to steal the car.’

‘I might be new around here and all, Sarge, but that’s a lot of ground.’

‘I know but maybe I can track it down. At least I can give it a shot.’

‘And what do I tell him?’ asked Nick, arching his neck towards Mitch.