‘Well, stop bloody acting like her, then. Eat your breakfast, fatso. I’m off for a shower. What time is your meeting?’

‘Not until eleven. Laura and Michael stayed in Cork last night. I’m giving them a chance to get back.’

‘Can we have a chat?’

‘Snap.’

Laura and Brian had both intercepted Tom as soon as he entered headquarters.

‘Can’t it wait until after this meeting?’

‘Eh, I want to talk to you about the guards who handled the investigation in Cork,’ Laura said. ‘I’m not sure it’s for everybody’s ears.’

‘Interesting. I want to talk to him about the investigation in Kerry,’ Brian added. He blinked several times. He’d recently taken to wearing contact lenses but the heat was making his eyes dry. He was happy, however, to stick with vanity over comfort. Although not yet forty, Brian was already balding; he had to at least dispense with the glasses. Not to mention the fact that far more blokes had come on to him in the last three months than in the last three years.

‘As they say in the hip shows you kids watch, let’s walk and talk,’ the inspector said, breaking into a stride.

By the time they arrived at the incident room, his growing sense of unease had become a whole ton of concern.

‘Right,’ he said. ‘Give this lot in here the salient facts about the investigations at the time, but maybe leave out some of the more colourful commentary. It’s relevant because it paints a picture of how the women were perceived and the responses to their disappearances, but terms like the village bike are not something I want bandied around. Even if it’s just reporting what somebody else said, you can’t presume that every officer in here is going to dismiss it. I don’t want that kind of rubbish seeping into people’s heads.’

Laura and Brian nodded and followed Tom into the team meeting.

Somebody, most likely Ian Kelly, the sergeant in charge of rank and file, had managed to source a few fans and had placed them strategically around the large room, blowing welcome gusts of air. The windows were opened as wide as they could go. It was makeshift air conditioning, but it would have to do.

Pictures of the five confirmed victims, taken when they were alive, had been pinned to the boards beside the recent snap of Fiona Holland. Smiling women, all unaware of the tragic fate their futures held.

‘Thank God I have a buddy who works in electrical supplies,’ Ian said, handing Tom a report of the uniforms’ activity from the previous day. ‘Seeing as we blew all our funds on those poxy see-through boards. Great investment, what?’