It is not the first time you have come to my attention. It was you – or some unusually creative police officer – who gave me the name ‘the Crucifix Killer’.

It is a tawdry name, lacking in imagination. But I understand it’s the best you can do, and I forgive you.

I find myself less forgiving when it comes to your choice of vocabulary. ‘Evil’, ‘degraded’: I am afraid you are mistaken. I am neither of those things and it is bordering on insulting that you choose to brand me as such.

But they are not the most annoying aspect of your report. It is your last statement that makes me – I must confess – positively angry. ‘However grandiose they think they are, they are nothing more than a common criminal – and they will be caught.’

This is mistaken and insulting: I am far, far more than a common criminal.

And I will not be caught. The police can no more catch me than a fly can catch the spider in whose web it is caught. The spider is a different order of being. It is the predator: the fly is the prey.

That is how I stand in relation to the hearty boys and girls in blue.

Remember this, Alice. Remember this when you write your drivel. And remember that beautiful daughter of yours.

Joanna. A lovely name, for a lovely girl. It would be a shame for her to be caught in a spider’s web …

I have something else: a message for your friend on the force, the delightful Nadia: She and her colleagues will hear from me soon. My work needs further elaboration.

And – just so you know I am who I say I am, ask your friend on the force where the girl’s house keys were. I left them in an unusual place.

I trust you are well.

Yours faithfully

The ‘Crucifix’ Killer

She took a photo of the letter, then typed a message to Nadia.

This came in the post. I guess it’s going to be of interest to you guys

She sent it and sipped her tea. Seconds later the front door opened. Tom had made it home quickly. She’d not been expecting him for another five minutes or so. It wasn’t much, but still.

‘Tom?’ she called. ‘Is that you?’

Tom

The house was quiet, so his first thought was that there was something wrong with Jo.

Something seriously wrong, something so wrong she wasn’t even crying. If she had been, at least he would have known she was alive.

It made sense. What else would have made Alice ask him to come home immediately? And of course she wouldn’t have told him what it was or he wouldn’t have been able to think straight to drive. She wanted him back before she gave him the bad news.

Then he heard her voice.

‘Tom? Is that you?’