That probably meant he was on the other line to the ANPR team, chasing up their request for a plate check on Joseph White’s Jaguar. The delay meant their automatic search had turned nothing up, and that they were checking for partial reads, although a negative there would increase the chances that White was already outside the city, somewhere number plate recognition systems still offered little or no coverage.

Somewhere like Cold Christmas.

It had come to Hawkins as she’d stood outside White’s flat, thinking back to her earlier conversation with him. He’d shown a tiny reaction when she’d asked about supposedly haunted buildings and séances. At the time, she’d read it as oversensitivity to public derision of his beliefs. But after what they’d seen at his flat …

She waited for the electronic secretary to finish and left Frank a short message, explaining that she and Mike had just arrived at Cold Christmas, and to meet them at the ruin if he got the message before she’d updated him again.

They reached the end of the track and Hawkins pulled on to the verge, turning off the engine.

‘It’s a short walk from here.’ She flicked on the interior light and laughed at the large male in the passenger seat, still clinging to the grab handle above his head. ‘For someone who drives everywhere like his hair’s on fire, you make a terrible passenger.’

He scowled. ‘Feel free to swap seats anytime.’

They stepped out of the car, and Hawkins was relieved as her eyes adjusted to find that, despite the partially clouded sky, a three-quarter moon provided enough light for them to see without torches.

Which meant their approach would be far less obvious to anyone already outside the tower.

Mike followed her around the corner to the stable block. ‘No cars,’ he observed. ‘You sure we ain’t wasting our time?’

‘He could be parked nearby,’ Hawkins insisted. Her mind flashed back to the books scattered all over Joseph White’s spare room, pages left open as if he’d been studying them before leaving in a rush. She had recognized the type of symbolism, too close to the markings used at the murder scenes for it to be coincidence. White was involved.

But further scrutiny had exposed an even more disturbing connection between the symbols on the pages. And the more titles she had picked out in torchlight through the glass, the more often she saw the same words …

Devil worship.

Immediately, she had thought of Cold Christmas, and its reputed links to satanism. The church also fitted the pattern of murder scenes to date: isolated, unused, ignored.

Hawkins glanced back the way she and Mike had just come, half expecting to see a young man following them in, reminding herself when she saw the empty path that the killer had arranged all his previous meetings during daylight hours.

But he might come here to prepare.