She had just started to convince herself that she had been overreacting when her phone rang, startling her badly enough that she slopped her drink down the front of her shirt. Going to the sink to put down her dripping glass, she pressed receive on the phone. It wasn’t a number she recognized.

‘Yeah?’

‘Miss Evans? It’s DI Parker again.’ He cleared his throat, clearly uncomfortable. ‘Thank you for sending through the images so quickly.’

‘No problem.’ Heather licked a drop of lemonade from her hand. ‘Are they of any help?’ She and Nikki had spent some time trawling the internet for more information, and a woman called Elizabeth Bunyon had been named as the latest victim of the so-called Red Wolf copycat. They had looked at the same photo of the woman, on so many news sites, until Heather felt she’d never forget her face.

‘Yes, and no. We have copies of some of them already, of course, as everything Reave sends and receives in prison is monitored.’

‘I saw that,’ Heather broke in. ‘The stamps.’

‘But the earlier letters are interesting, at least. Miss Evans, I think the key to this isn’t in the letters, but more his reaction to them. He didn’t know your mother had passed away.’

A cold shiver walked down the back of Heather’s neck. ‘You’ve told him? What did he say?’

There was a beat of silence as DI Parker took a breath. ‘Very little, really. Michael Reave rarely says anything much, which has long been a source of frustration. But we need him to talk, and quickly. I’m sure you understand why.’

In the kitchen, Heather frowned, wondering where this was leading.

‘I can imagine.’

‘He didn’t know about you either, that Colleen Evans had a daughter. When your name came up, his behaviour changed. I …’ DI Parker cleared his throat again. ‘I know we spoke about it briefly earlier, but would you really be willing to come in and speak to him? It’s not something we ask lightly, I promise you.’

Heather blinked. This was exactly what she had wanted, when she had initially brought up the idea with Nikki, but now that it was being presented to her on a plate, she felt wrong-footed.

‘He’ll talk to me?’

‘He wants to talk to you.’ Parker gave a small grunt of wry amusement. ‘You’re the only one he will talk to. And as I said, Miss Evans, we desperately need to find out what he knows about these new … incidents. If he knows anything at all.’

Heather looked up at the kitchen window, catching sight of her reflection. Her face was pale and her eyes were lost in dark shadows. She found herself thinking of her last day on the newspaper, and the feelings of strength and rage she’d had before it all went to shit. That Heather wouldn’t even hesitate.