‘Tell me, Stephen,’ he said. ‘Did you ever give Fiona a bracelet like this, or see her wearing one?’

He held up the evidence bag, straightening it out to reveal the silver charm bracelet inside.

‘Nope. Never gave her anything like that. The only thing I ever gave that little slut was a length of me—’

‘Thank you,’ Tom interjected. ‘That’s all I need for now.’

‘No.’ Linda shook her head. ‘I can’t see it. He’s a little shit and he might just beat some poor girl to death one day by accident, but no. I can’t see him as a serial killer.’

They’d retreated to the inspector’s office, leaving McCabe with a free legal aid solicitor.

‘We’ll know if he’s Steve Moore in a couple of minutes, anyhow,’ Tom said. ‘I’ve just got a text saying a photo has arrived from Waterford. What did you think of his description of Fiona’s brother, Fergus?’

Linda cupped her mouth and considered.

‘How old is Fergus?’

‘Twenty-three.’

‘And the first victim was six years ago. Fergus would have been seventeen – a bit young, but not beyond the realm of possibility. Maybe he has an unhealthy attachment to the sister and has been taking out his frustrations on other women.’

‘Hmm.’ Tom pursed his lips. ‘But at that age, where would he have kept Pauline before he murdered her? How mobile would he have been?’

‘There’s that. And also, the theory would hold more weight if all the victims looked similar to his sister. You’ve five women of very differing appearance. Your serial killer has an issue with a type, not a look.’

‘The father, maybe?’ Tom suggested. ‘He travels for work. His wife told us that. He’s a strong man. Allegedly worshipped his daughter – maybe she’s an unintentional victim. He snapped because he can’t control her.’

‘Hmm. Look into his background,’ Linda said. ‘A successful business, loving wife, grown-up family – it’s not entirely ludicrous, but it would be one of the more unusual cases.’

The door to Tom’s office opened and Michael appeared. The inspector knew from the look on his face that their theory about Stephen McCabe/Steve Moore had been proven incorrect.

‘It’s definitely not him. Here’s the picture of Steve Moore.’

He placed a scanned photograph on an A4 sheet between Tom and the psychologist. The picture showed Pauline O’Hara’s former partner at a party, one arm draped around somebody who’d been cut out of the picture. He had black hair and small dark eyes, too close together, but a winning smile – quite the baby-faced charmer. He wouldn’t have passed for even a relative of Stephen McCabe.

‘There’s more,’ Michael continued. ‘The local guards in Waterford spoke to Moore’s former employer and they say he took a job with another branch of their wholesale firm. In Galway.’