She shook off the thought, and tasked her remaining three team members with tracking down someone who was looking more and more like a prime suspect. Because if they were right about the killer making face-to-face contact with his victims, it was now even more important to find the man seen outside the Paranormal Society headquarters; perhaps waiting for another member who believed themselves to be possessed. The same man she had subsequently pursued along Oxford Street, and who escaped their raid on his own spiritual group at the abandoned factory.

The man with few if any confidants among his peers. And a history of violence.

John Mardell.

51

Hawkins checked her phone for the seventh time since leaving the car park as she climbed the steps of 17 Cavendish Square and rang the bell.

She shook her head. Still no messages from her team, although it had been just ninety minutes since their meeting at Becke House. It was probably unrealistic to hope for results this fast. But pressure was mounting.

The operations room had been empty forty-five minutes ago, when Hawkins had returned from the chief superintendent’s office, having provided Vaughn with an update on the current state of the case.

She spent the meeting listening out for her phone, hoping that one of the team might produce an early result in their renewed search for John Mardell. But no such message arrived. She had called each of her officers upon leaving Vaughn.

Chris had returned to Mardell’s home, but there were still no signs of life at the house, and no leads from the neighbours, few of whom even knew the suspect’s name, on whether he’d been seen since their raid on the abandoned factory in Brentford.

Frank and Aaron were working their way around the home addresses of the other arrested members of Millennial Dawn, all still incarcerated at Southall station. The idea was that Mardell might have made contact with some of his peers’ families, perhaps to explain what had happened, maybe to use one as a bolt-hole. Malcolm Byford had described Mardell as having few if any allies in the group, but he could have been mistaken. Or lying to help a friend.

So far, however, the tactic had borne no results.

Hawkins had also roped in a couple of constables to run some checks on their suspect’s phone and credit cards, but Mardell’s mobile had been off since before the raid, and none of his cards had been used in subsequent hours. They were waiting for a more detailed account of his recent usage history from both operators, in the hope that a pattern, and therefore potential hiding places, might be identified.