Barrett stayed in the barn examining the body. This victim was much younger than Dennis Wade. He knew that serial killers usually had a type and the two victims appeared to be almost opposite, but he suspected there would be something that linked them. His gut was telling him that this killer was sending a message rather than simply killing for twisted pleasure, and he believed the key to deciphering it lay in the method the murderer was using to kill. Why hang the victim? Why remove the little finger? Barrett knew that when he could answer those questions, he would be close to catching his killer.

Turning away from the body, Barrett walked around the open-plan living space the victim had once called home, inspecting the objects she once owned. On one of the walls hung pictures of Wendy, alive and well, enjoying various outdoor pursuits. There was a photo of her doing archery, another of her riding a horse and another of her hiking somewhere hilly. She looked happy and smiley in the pictures, nothing like how she appeared now. Her red hair was always tied up in the photos but had been worn down when she was killed. Strands of it hung over her face, obscuring one of her open eyes. Just like Dennis Wade, she had wet herself.

When Bob Roland appeared at the scene he did not look happy. He hated being called out on a Sunday, especially if it interrupted a premier league match he was watching on TV. Bob Roland was an avid Arsenal fan and as he took off his team scarf in order to get into his whites, Barrett smirked to himself.

‘We’ve got another one, Bob. Same MO as Wade. Hanged and finger removed.’ Barrett stood on the pavement below a large chestnut tree, its branches laden with snow. The sky was thick with snow clouds and the light was beginning to fade.

‘Two one down when I left,’ Bob muttered to Barrett, still stuck in football mode.

‘Sorry to hear that.’ Barrett knew very little about football and cared even less.

‘So, you say it’s the same as the bookshop victim?’ Bob snapped into the job with effortless speed as he pulled on his overalls.

‘Looks that way.’ The inspector was rubbing his hands together trying to get warm.

‘Let’s take a look.’ Bob led the way back into the barn. ‘Have you identified the victim yet?’

‘All the post out there is addressed to a Wendy Matlock. It would appear that she is our victim. If you can give me a time of death that would be great, Bob,’ Barrett asked as Bob approached the body.

‘I’d say she’s been here for at least twelve hours,’ Bob suggested. ‘But I’ll be able to confirm when we get her into the morgue. Who found her, Ian?’