‘I remember Rosa. As soon as you said her name I thought of that summer. Finding her, getting her to trust me, until eventually she got into the car with me. When she begged for her life, she said she had a boyfriend. They all say that though, so I just assumed she was making it up like the rest of them,’ he said, releasing Felicity’s mother, who fell to the ground, unflinching as she smacked her head against the leg of the table.

‘How could you do this?’ Jasmine sobbed.

‘It’s not something I planned, it’s just how I turned out. I never talk about my past but I had a very strange childhood. My mother died when I was young so I was raised by my dad, and he had no business raising children. I saw things that no one should see.’

‘Is that a reason to kill people? You could have got help,’ she said, unsure why she was trying to reason with him; the deeds were done, the girls were dead.

‘There is no help for someone like me,’ he said, his face devoid of emotion. ‘My dad would take me with him when he went to see prostitutes; he would pick up women in bars, and I would be in the room when he did whatever he did. Your mother and I worked hard to make sure you had a stable childhood with loving parents. I didn’t want you to turn out wrong, like I did.’

‘So why didn’t you stop? All those women. How could you do that?’

‘I don’t know how to explain it to you. It’s something I need to do to survive.’

‘Why those girls?’ Jasmine asked. ‘Is that the only reason we went abroad? Was it all just a front for your sick and twisted shit?’

‘Your mother wanted to travel and help people, and I saw it as a perfect opportunity to do what I needed to do. One girl went missing in each place, a place where lots of pretty young women go missing every year. No one suspected me. I realised after the first few times how easy it was.’

‘You’re talking about it like it’s a hobby. You’re so messed up.’ Jasmine could feel her breath shortening as the tears sprang from her eyes. She wondered if he had ever considered hurting her, or if he ever thought about her when he was hurting those other girls.

‘It’s a compulsion.’ Frank shrugged. ‘The only way to stop myself from hurting more people was by allowing myself that one thing every year.’

‘Not a “thing”, Dad, a woman, a girl, not much older than me. How would you feel if someone did that to me?’

‘I’m not saying I’m right, I’m just saying this is how I am.’