Bridget nodded, her face shocked and drawn. She loved Laura like a sister and was very fond of Michael. It was all too much. She sat down and cradled Michael’s head on her lap.

‘Ooo-er,’ Michael wheezed, his voice weak. ‘Don’t tell the wife.’

‘Shut up, you idiot, or I’ll poke my finger into that bullet wound.’

Tom left them, picking up the pace so he could catch Ray.

He’d gone a couple of hundred metres before he slowed down. The ground had evened off and now it was descending. The inspector could see light between the trees below. Further on, he could see the still surface of the lake, the water glistening in the moonlight.

A low whistle to his right notified him of Ray’s presence.

‘He’s down there,’ his deputy whispered.

Together, they moved silently through the trees, placing their feet carefully and slowly so as not to alert Lane.

The man they’d been hunting was just beyond the tree line, making his way to the lakeshore. He wore denims and a black sweater; the back of his hair was neatly cut; a normal-looking man if ever there was one.

He was striding calmly towards the lake, dragging a body.

Laura was still dressed in the cut-off trousers, white vest and cardigan she’d worn to work yesterday.

Tom felt his chest constrict at the sight of her limp figure.

She was already gone.

Beside him, Ray made a choking sound that sounded like a sob.

Tom was about to say something when he saw movement in the corner of his eye.

It was Laura. She’d kicked out one of her legs.

She was alive, and still trying to fight her captor as he ploughed onwards.

The arm wrapped around Laura’s neck also held a torch. In his free hand, Lane had his gun. He didn’t have anything to dig with, Tom realised. No shovel. He had no intention of strangling and burying her, like he had with his other victims.

‘Shit,’ he hissed at Ray. Laura slumped again and then tried to pull Lane’s arm away from her neck, kicking again at the ground in a futile effort to slow the relentless march. ‘He plans to drown her.’

They sped down the last hundred metres until they were at the last line of trees before the open ground.

‘There’s no shot,’ Ray whispered urgently, his voice just an octave below hysterical.

‘He’s dropped something,’ Tom replied, squinting desperately. ‘It’s the torch, is it? I can’t see its light any more.’ He pointed at the ground ahead where a redundant object lay on the ground. Lane was facing away from them, striding forward as he pulled Laura behind him. ‘Does he still have his gun? Can we get a shot at him while he’s moving? Ray! Ray!’

His deputy had dived out of the trees and was bounding towards the lake.