‘The team are going down those avenues and a million more besides,’ said Bancho, not holding out much hope, given that nothing had been turned up so far. ‘So this is the third body in as many weeks…he’s working fast. We’d better hope he doesn’t accelerate. Forensics is baffled. Even the lab boys are stumped. The bodies are clean except for a stray hair, they’ve analysed it, but whoever it belongs to is not on any database.’

Bancho wasn’t surprised; he knew better than to rely on someone coming up with an instant answer. When this case was solved it would be as a result of legwork and good old-fashioned detective skills, he told himself–no matter what the public thought.

‘I want results before the press know what we’ve got on our hands. Someone out there must know something…You find the bastard. That’s an order, Bancho. Find him quickly.’

Chapter Eight

Edinburgh castle was floodlit. I stared up at it and daydreamed. The night was black, making my reflection in the glass all too obvious–Brodie McLennan, aged thirty and feeling ninety. I glanced across at the huge mirror that took up the wall opposite my desk. Contrary to public opinion, I am not a narcissist, but it was a good idea to be able to practise my court speeches in advance. The mirror was actually the idea of my grandfather, Lord MacGregor, a former Lord Justice Clerk. He had very strict ideas on the standard of pleadings in court and he was determined I would meet his exacting standards, and that meant paying attention to the superficial as well. The fact that he was on a round-the-world cruise with the second wife that I hadn’t yet met didn’t mean that he wasn’t still interfering with my life, even if it was via the presence of the mirror that constantly reminded me of him. Still, I wouldn’t have it any other way. I loved that old man, even if I never told him.