He cupped her face, his palms on the curls stuck to her cheeks. Leaning forward, he rested his forehead on hers.

‘I’ve been meaning to tell you something and I don’t think it can wait any longer. I think I’m in love with you.’

She cried again, from relief or happiness she wasn’t sure, and he pulled her close, every fibre of his body thanking God that she was safe.

Behind them, the inspector leaned over Charlie Lane. The serial killer gazed up at Tom, his expression like that of a lost little boy.

He wasn’t an ugly man. He could even be described as quite pleasant-looking.

But as he’d said himself – he was a monster.

‘Where’s Fiona Holland?’ Tom said, his voice low and dangerous.

A puzzled look crossed Lane’s face, replaced with a knowing one.

Then he passed out.

CHAPTER 38

All the lights were still on in Tom’s house when Willie dropped him off in the early hours of the morning. He hadn’t been in touch with Louise all night, though he’d presumed somebody at headquarters had told her what was happening. She was probably worried sick.

Charlie Lane had been taken to hospital under armed guard. If he was deemed fit enough, they’d interview him in the morning and try to establish Fiona Holland’s whereabouts. They were still going through his bank details and the property register to establish if he owned another house or had a rental somewhere.

A team had been deployed to search the woods at Lough Dan, in case he’d already murdered and buried the girl.

But it was looking for a needle in a haystack. They’d need him to talk in order to find her.

Tom kicked off his shoes inside the front door and threw his suit jacket onto the end of the banisters. He was fit to collapse.

He went to the kitchen first, where Louise usually waited up for him when he was late.

She wasn’t there. He poured himself a glass of water and stood at the sink drinking it.

A few seconds later, he heard Louise call his name.

Tom put the drink down and walked into the hall. His wife was standing in the door frame of the sitting room. Her eyes were red, her cheeks puffy. She’d been crying.

‘Oh, Jesus, Louise. I’m so sorry. I should have rang to tell you we were all okay. It was just crazy. Were you worried?’

She nodded.

‘Can you come in here for a moment?’ she said, her voice hoarse.

The inspector frowned. Something was wrong.

He followed his wife into the sitting room.

Sean McGuinness sat on the edge of the couch, his big hands cupped around a mug of coffee.

‘Sean!’ Tom exclaimed. ‘I’ve been looking for you all day. Did you hear what …’