Heath was weeping as he peered around a door at the end of the hallway, his camera hanging around his neck on a brown leather strap, a box of safety matches in one hand, and a razor-sharp modelling knife in the other. He willed the interfering pig to go, to walk away, to leave him alone to indulge his desires as he’d planned for so very long. But the pig was still there. She was sticking her snout in. Just as Mother had said. He could see the interfering bitch as clear as day.

Heath glanced behind him as his mother’s high-pitched voice rang out once more, filling the house with non-existent sound, so loud that he feared the pig detective would hear.

‘The police are out to get you, Henry. I told you they’d come back. They always come back. You’ve got a knife in your hand. So, why not use it? Cut her piggy throat. Send her to oblivion.’

He blew his nose one nostril at a time, sending snot to the tiled floor. ‘Shut up, Mother! She’s listening. Please shut up. She’ll hear you.’

Heath glared at the front door as the detective knocked again, and then she bent down to look through the letterbox, as her hog sergeant had before her.

‘Could you open the door, please, Mr Heath. It’s DI Kesey, Laura Kesey, West Wales Police. I’m looking for Megan Weller.’

Heath so wanted to pound her into the ground, to plunge the knife into her body time and again for daring to invade his personal territory when he was so very close to making his ultimate fantasy reality. But he still had his doubts. The threat of prison loomed large in his increasingly conflicted mind. Killing the Syrian was one thing, a pleasant enough distraction, but a pig detective was another thing entirely. ‘What shall I do, Mother? Tell me what to do.’

‘You’ll have to kill her, Henry. Open the door and kill her. That’s what you want to do, so why not do it? Less thought more action. That’s what’s needed. Come on, there’s a good boy.’

‘Really? Are you sure, Mother? Three in a day? That seems a little excessive, even for me.’

His mother’s face swept down, coming within inches of his. ‘Aren’t you man enough, Henry? Your father wouldn’t have hesitated like this. He had the balls for the job when it mattered most. Perhaps you’re too much of a worm.’

Heath screamed as Kesey knocked again, bang, bang, bang. ‘Don’t mention that man!’

‘Open the door, Mr Heath. Open it now, or I’ll call for backup to break it down.’

‘Did you hear that, Henry? What are you waiting for? You’ll have to kill her. Act now, or you’ll miss your opportunity.’

Heath felt his core temperature rise as he approached the front door, ever so slowly, ever so cautiously. He stopped, counting to five inside his head before opening it, the knife still gripped behind his back. He squeezed the shaft ever tighter for fear of dropping it.