‘That’s good, Jan, you’ve done the right thing. Now, I want you to tell me what the writing is like? I’m talking about our address, how’s it written? And the postmark, see if you can see where it was posted.’

‘Give me a second.’

There was a silence before Jan spoke again. ‘It’s addressed to you in black ink.’

‘What’s the writing like?’

‘Large block capitals. What’s this about? Do I need to be concerned?’

‘Could you see where it was posted?’

‘It’s a bit smudged, but I think it says Swansea, it’s definitely Swan, and then the rest’s hard to make out.’

Kesey’s hair lifted on her nape. ‘Right, I want you to lock both the doors and make sure all the windows are closed. Don’t leave Ed on his own, even for a single second. I’m on my way.’

Janet was looking out through the lounge window when Kesey pulled up on the driveway about twenty minutes later. She was standing in the open doorway with Edward’s hand in hers when the detective exited her car. Kesey did her best to hide her growing anxiety as she greeted her loved ones, leading them back into the house and locking the door behind them.

‘What’s going on, Laura?’

Kesey sucked air through her teeth. ‘Let’s put something on the telly for Ed, and we’ll go from there.’

Janet fought the impulse to bombard her partner with questions. Kesey was scared. That much was obvious. But why? That was the biggest question, why? ‘Scooby Doo’s his favourite.’

Kesey smiled at her son. ‘Okay, then Scooby it is.’

Edward settled on the sofa to watch his cartoon while munching a packet of white chocolate buttons, an unusual treat at that time of the morning.

Kesey was wearing identical skin tight, thin blue nitrile gloves to those used by Lewis when she opened the letter seconds later. She swallowed, gagged and swallowed again as she began to read:

Dear Miss Piggy,

You’ll know by now that I know where you live. I know where you live, I know where your flabby pink partner lives, and best of all, I know where your oh so vulnerable little boy lives. Edward, isn’t it? One of my most favourite names. I killed a young lad who looked very much like him some years back when my taste for death and destruction first matured.

I want you to know that I’ve still got Lottie, bound and caged as in my photographs. I’m sure you found them fascinating. I’ll tire of her soon, and then she’ll die. Does that make you feel guilty, detective? It’s your job to find her. Your responsibility to keep her alive. But you’re failing dismally. You’re a fuck-up, an imposter. Maybe you should leave the job to someone who actually knows what they’re doing. I’ll need another victim soon enough. A boy, I think, it will make a nice change. A boy with brown hair and green eyes. Does that remind you of anyone? I feel sure it does. I’ve been watching, and I’ve been listening. I’m coming after you and yours, detective, and you can’t hope to stop me. I’m going to tear your life to pieces. A raging tempest is coming your way.

Love and kisses,

Your worst nightmare X