Jameson closed his eyes. He’d really thought they’d find Jane today. Even when they were with Lana, he’d believed that she’d tell them where Jane was. And when it became clear that she had no intention of doing anything of the sort, he had been truly tempted to throw her over that bridge. He hadn’t come face to face with his dark side for quite a while and it didn’t feel good.

‘I don’t know that we’ll ever find her.’

Sarah was quiet for a moment. ‘Why? What happened?’

He didn’t respond.

‘Look,’ she said, ‘if you don’t want to talk about it, I get it. But if you need me, I’m here, OK? Just call.’

He thanked her and promised to keep in touch. When he rejoined Bloom her glass was empty. ‘Tough night,’ he said. He’d never seen his partner this affected. He wanted to know why she blamed herself for that girl’s suicide, but he couldn’t think of the right words. So instead he simply sat and waited, on the slim chance she might want to talk.

‘She was this beautiful little thing,’ Bloom said eventually. ‘With long curly hair and angelic features. Looking at her, you’d think she was the sweetest child.’

‘But?’

‘Let’s just say I’ve been thinking about her a lot lately. This case has brought it all back. She was magnetic and intelligent and so inquisitive about how and why she was different. I wanted to be the person who harnessed all that potential and moulded it into something good.’

‘She was a psychopath?’ Another piece of the Augusta Bloom jigsaw clicked into place. This explained her lifelong obsession.

‘I was naive. She was more vulnerable than I thought. I’d viewed psychopaths as another species, a sort of giant mutation. Then I did what so many of us do. I generalized. I expected her to be exactly the same as these tough, cold characters, but at the end of the day she was just a young girl who knew she was different, who wanted to fit in.’

He really felt for Bloom. There was no guilt as grim as someone’s blood on your hands.

‘What was her name?’

‘Seraphine. Seraphine Walker.’

50