‘Well, I’ve arranged for a couple of uniforms to go to her mother’s house to notify her of Anna’s death. She lives in Altrincham, not far from the bar, actually. They should be there soon. As for her fiancé, he’s called Rory Knox. He works for a company in London but he’s been away on business this week. They gave me his number and I managed to get in touch with him. He was driving back from Bradford, poor bastard.’

‘What’s wrong with Bradford?’ I joke.

Tom and Liam both laugh.

‘I haven’t told him anything except that we need to speak to him; he’s on his way here. Should arrive within the hour.’

‘Thanks Tom, top notch. Please can you prep the interview room?’

3

The lift doors slide open and a tall man – well over six foot – wearing a white shirt, pink pinstripe tie and a three-piece charcoal grey suit walks out. His hair is dark, slicked back with a generous helping of gel.

The soles of his patent leather shoes squeak as he approaches the nearest desk. He oozes sophistication. He exchanges a few words with Liam who nods, gets up and accompanies him to my door.

‘Erika,’ he says, leading the man into the room, ‘this is Mr. Knox.’

‘Please, call me Rory,’ he says, scratching his neck nervously. ‘Forgive me for being blunt, but why am I here?’

‘Rory, I’m Detective Inspector Erika Piper and I’m afraid I’ve got some bad news. Please take a seat.’

Liam sits down on my side of the desk. Rory sits down on the other. I take a breath.

‘This morning, we found the body of Anna Symons. We have reason to believe that she was murdered.’

The skin on his forehead creases as he frowns.

‘Anna? Murdered? No, you must have the wrong person,’ he says, shaking his head. ‘I spoke to her last night, she was fine. She was just about to curl up on the sofa with a book. It can’t be her.’

‘I know it’s a lot to take in,’ I reply, ‘but we are certain that the body is Anna’s. I’m sorry.’

Rory sits forward in his chair, his head falling into his hands. Strands of hair break loose from behind his ears. His world as he’s known it has ended; everything will be different from this point on. He glances up after a minute.

‘How?’ he croaks.

‘Are you sure you want to know the details?’

‘Tell me.’ It’s almost a growl.

‘She was found at The Ice Bowl in Altrincham, the autopsy is not back yet so we can’t be 100% certain, but we believe she died from blood loss from a laceration to the throat.’

‘Like in Blood Ice?’ he asks, his head snapping up to look at me, eyes wide.

‘We believe there may be similarities between the two deaths, yes.’ I decide to spare him the extraneous details, though I know he is picturing the scene from the film in his mind’s eye. He begins to slump forwards in his chair and lowers his head to look at the floor, the reality of it all seeping in to his bones.