‘We are doing everything we can to find him, Mrs Kilpatrick, but now we know Eddie has been targeted by the man responsible for the deaths of two other victims, we really need to find a link. Is there anything you can tell us that might shed some light?’ Barrett asked hopefully.

‘Is he dead?’ She turned to Palmer ignoring Barrett’s question.

‘We are working on the assumption that he is alive.’

‘Mrs Kilpatrick. Barrett moved his chair closer to her. ‘We need to know if your husband knew either of the deceased. Do the names Dennis Wade or Wendy Matlock mean anything to you?’

‘Dennis?’ Her gaze remained fixed on Palmer. ‘My husband used to play golf with a man named Dennis.’

‘Do you remember his surname?’ Barrett asked urgently.

‘I’m not sure I ever knew it.’ She looked down at her hands, her eyes resting on her splayed fingers.

‘What about Wendy Matlock? Does that name ring a bell?’ Palmer encouraged.

‘No. I’ve never heard of her.’ Susan’s voice was fractured.

‘Mum?’ The young woman who had been sitting on the sofa appeared in the doorway looking concerned. She was wearing a baggy sweatshirt and leggings. Her hair was pulled up in a scruffy bun and she had a tattoo running down her neck. ‘What’s the matter?’

‘DI Palmer,’ he said getting up and shaking her hand.

‘What’s happened?’ She stared at him with the same fear on her face as her mother had.

Palmer looked at Susan, not feeling it was his place to tell the woman what had happened, and watched as the mother beckoned for her daughter to come and sit by her side. Palmer could see now that the woman was much older than he had first thought. From a distance she appeared to be in her twenties but on closer inspection it was clear that she was closer to forty. He noticed there was no wedding ring.

‘Tell me.’ The tattooed woman said, placing her hand on her mother’s shoulder.

Barrett and Palmer were quiet while Susan told her daughter the news.

‘So he’s dead?’ The woman turned to Barrett with a look of horror on her face.

‘We don’t believe so.’ Barrett tried to focus on her face rather than the large floral tattoo that snaked up the left side of her neck.

‘Do you know a Wendy Matlock or Dennis Wade?’ Palmer asked.

‘No, sorry.’ She blinked back tears trying to be strong for her mother who sat completely still and ghost-like.

‘Dad used to play golf with a Dennis, didn’t he?’ Susan said to the woman who still hadn’t been properly introduced to the policemen.