‘You may have closed a significant number of cases. That trophy-shelf alone links these guys to quite a few deaths and disappearances.’

‘We’ll never know how many, though, will we?’ she retorted, too weary to feel real anger, but disgruntled with just about everyone, including herself. ‘That shelf’ll help us a bit. I’ve already seen the relics of Harry Hopkins and Lorna Cunningham … that’s sick enough, but at least it provides proof of who they were and what happened to them. But that was because they had families who were concerned. What about the homeless those two nutcases practised on? How many of them were there? How many were even missed?’

‘Lucy—’ he tried to interrupt.

‘By the sound of it, Torgau preyed on them in exactly the same way, for practice, God knows how many decades ago—’

‘Lucy!’

‘And they didn’t always melt down the evidence. According to Alyssa Torgau, there were others they killed who they just dumped, or hid in ruined buildings. More randomers, Stan, targets of total convenience …’

‘And it’s over!’ he said firmly. ‘Because of you … yeah?’

‘Because of me …?’ Momentarily, the words meant nothing to her.

‘Who else?’

Lucy glanced towards the twisted body of Alyssa Torgau. Several streams of blood had trickled across the gravel before congealing. ‘If it’s such a win, why do I feel so lousy?’

‘Probably because you’re a decent person,’ Beardmore said. ‘Carnage is a never a cause for celebration. But that doesn’t mean this isn’t a result. How’s the hand, anyway?’

Lucy examined her thickly bandaged paw, still baffled that it had happened at all. ‘Eighteen stitches … but I’ve still got to go to Casualty. They want to give me some shots.’

‘Sensible precaution.’

From somewhere to their right, a pair of female voices intruded. They looked round and saw Sister Cassie being ushered into a CID car by Kirsty Banks. At long last, they’d pinned her down for an official interview.

‘Our nun friend again,’ Beardmore commented.

‘She is a friend,’ Lucy replied. ‘And an observant one. She saw me operate the blues and twos at some roadworks on the way in here. And thank God she did.’

‘She doesn’t seem any the worse for wear, I must say.’

‘She’s a tough one, that’s for sure. I didn’t let her go down into the cellar, though.’ Lucy swallowed in revulsion. ‘That place would have tested even her faith in God.’

‘This girl who got the acid in her face … I don’t know whether she’ll ever be fit for interview.’

Lucy shrugged. ‘I’m amazed she’s even alive.’

‘You can probably thank the heroin for that. Knocked her out cold, while that stuff burned her almost to the bone.’

Lucy brooded on the human stew in the plastic drums. ‘She got off easily.’