Pierce levels her gaze with Archer. ‘Something’s not quite right about you. You have been involved with two of the killer’s victims and I want to know why.’

‘Two? I only know Jamie.’

‘Really? I received the phone records from Mike Hamilton’s phone. It seems you and he were having quite the conversation. You were going to sell him your story. How much did he offer you?’

‘What? That’s impossible. I never offered him anything. He wanted it but and I rebuffed him.’

‘Of course you did.’ Pierce sighs and leaves the incident room.

In that moment the extra pieces of the puzzle begin to fall into place.

‘Shit!’

She needs to talk to someone immediately and hurries across to Klara’s office.

‘I’m so sorry, Grace. I know about Hamilton’s phone. Pierce insisted on seeing the records.’

‘Don’t worry about that. Listen, my phone was stolen and smashed by that moped rider and it wasn’t working for two days. Remember?’

‘Yes.’

‘When I took it to the Apple Store the sales guy told me the sim was missing.’

‘Perhaps it had fallen out.’

‘But then when my new sim was activated I started getting these messages from Mike Hamilton asking to follow up about a conversation I never had with him.’ Archer feels her skin crawl. ‘Oh God . . . My phone really wasn’t smashed. It must have been switched.’

‘By who?’

‘It was him. @nonymous. Perhaps he knew Hamilton was taking an interest in me and my phone was a way of getting closer to him for his revenge. Perhaps it was also a way of tracking progress with the investigation. He had my photos, my emails, my WhatsApp. That bloody device opened up a lot of opportunities for him.’

Chapter 47

47

A CALL COMES THROUGH WITH A sighting of Oliver Merrick near the grounds of a school in Holloway. Klara is on the case with the CCTV and locates him within ten minutes. There is a buzz in the office; a renewed vigour dispelling the dog-tiredness brought on by the long hours and sleepless nights. There is a palpable sense that they are within touching distance of the killer.

Oliver Merrick.

His name is on their lips and lasered on their brains, the letters smoking. His mugshot is a new addition to the photo library on all their mobile devices. The hunt has formed, the hounds are gathering. They can smell blood. Archer watches them with a mix of admiration, trepidation and doubt.

She has read Merrick’s file again and questions his ability to overpower any person, other than a child, of course. But then again, as Quinn suggested, perhaps Merrick has changed his physicality. In the interview tapes Quinn had gone to town on him describing him in the way only Quinn could:

‘You’re an overweight, pasty-faced, doughnut-eating bastard kiddy-fiddler.’