‘One quick game before lunch.’ Barrett smiled and accepted a glass of fizz from Palmer. ‘It is Christmas day after all.’

Epilogue

11.00am Thursday 3rd January

Barrett and Palmer arrived at Rampton Secure Hospital, a high-security psychiatric hospital, in time for their appointment with Doctor Giles Megaw, the chief psychiatrist at the unit.

The drive from Cambridge to north Nottinghamshire had been longer than they’d expected. The snow had long since melted and the ground was now hard with frost as the inspectors got out of their car and made their way to the front entrance of the imposing building.

After showing their badges to the guards the men were led down a long corridor before being shown into an office at the end.

‘Doctor Megaw.’ Barrett shook hands with the short man who wore a blue shirt with navy trousers.

‘Have a seat, gentlemen.’ He pointed to two leather chairs on the other side of his desk before sitting back down in his own seat.

‘How’s the patient?’ Palmer asked.

Megaw considered this for a moment before answering. ‘Not fit to stand trial if that’s what you’re asking.’ He looked over his reading glasses at them.

‘We wanted to talk to you because there has been a development.’ Barrett sat back in his chair and crossed one leg over the other. ‘It has a bearing on your patient.’

‘Oh?’ The doctor rested his chin on his hand and waited patiently.

‘It seems that Mr Mirren was related to one of his victims. Edward Kilpatrick was Robert Mirren’s biological father.’

‘How can that be?’ The doctor, who was flustered by the news, began sorting through the file he had on Robbie, which lay in front of him on his desk. ‘Robbie did not know his father.’

‘The DNA matches. Edward was his father. Now, we don’t know any of the details because Robert’s mother is dead, but DNA has confirmed it to be true. And we have Edward’s diaries that mention a GM. Robert’s mother was Georgia Mirren.’

The psychiatrist sat back in his seat absorbing the information.

‘Edward Kilpatrick sexually abused my patient,’ he said steadily.

‘Yes, we know.’ Barrett confirmed uncrossing his legs and leaning forward. ‘We don’t believe Edward Kilpatrick had any knowledge that Robbie was his son. He wasn’t even usually involved in the scouts. It was a case of him being in the wrong place at the wrong time. We’ve spoken to Mrs Kilpatrick–’

‘That must have been an awkward conversation,’ the doctor blurted out, interrupting.