Amy took the sheets and shuffled them. She handed them back, pointing at one particular story.

“Here,” she said.

The main story on the page reported on the swarms of seven-spotted ladybirds terrorising the city, but halfway down, there was a smaller article:

Suspected Kidnapper at Large in Maternity Hospital

Police have received reports of an attempted kidnap that was perpetrated in the early hours of yesterday morning. The attempt, which involved a pair of newly born identical twins, took place at the city’s maternity hospital. The mother of the twin boys was able to alert the nurses and prevent the person from making off with the babies, but as the suspect has not yet been apprehended police are warning all mothers of infants to be vigilant. The suspected kidnapper is described as being female, of unkempt appearance, rather thin, of average height with long black hair. If anyone has any information, they are asked to contact the police immediately.

Harper said, “Wow.”

“Creepy, right?”

“Yes.” She read the article again. “This is from 1976?”

“Do you think it might be related?”

Harper shook her head slowly. “I don’t see how. Our suspect wouldn’t even have been born then.”

Amy said, “Well, I thought you’d want to see it. I got the shivers when I read it the first time.”

Harper put the copies back in the envelope and tucked it under an arm. She could smell herself now, and it wasn’t good. She glanced up at the door to her flat, thinking, hot shower, then bed. But the confidence she’d had that she would fall asleep immediately was fading away as her mind started to work on this new information, calculating, extrapolating, creating new working theories. Say it was the same person in both cases—if they were at least twenty when they did it in 1976, then they’d be at least sixty now, so therefore … Leave it, she told herself, concentrate on Natasha. Natasha was there. She had a motive.

“Thanks,” said Harper, “I really appreciate it. And thanks for bringing it over, too. You didn’t have to do that.”

Amy stood, placed a hand on her hip. She had that forties movie-star thing right down. “Aren’t you going to invite me in?”

The flat was in no state to be seen by guests. No one had been into it for months except Harper, not since her little sister visited at Christmas and pointed out to her with a measure of disgust that she lived like a teenage boy. She couldn’t let Amy see it, not yet. Harper frowned, looked at her watch, said, “Hey, I’d love to, but I’m exhausted and I have to get up early because of the case, and—”

“Don’t worry,” said Amy, all flirtatiousness completely erased from her voice and manner. “I get it.”