Fleet was thinking of what Randy had said about the messy nature of the murders, as well as the fact Lance’s ‘suicide’ had been so poorly staged. As for Melissa, Randy had already told Fleet that her body had likely been in the water less than twenty-four hours before it had washed up alongside one of the busiest walkways in the docks.

‘Unless the killings were deliberately sloppy,’ the pathologist suggested. ‘To throw you off track.’

Again, it was something Fleet had already considered, but he couldn’t bring himself to buy it. His instinct was that Randy had been right the last time they’d spoken. The person they were looking for was highly volatile. It was passion that was driving them – rage, impotence, obsession – not money. The irony being, Richardson in that sense would have been a perfect candidate. His whole career seemed powered by fury.

‘The killer isn’t a professional,’ said Fleet. ‘For whoever’s behind this, it’s deeply personal.’

The two men stood in silence. After a moment, Randy took out his packet of cigarettes again. Fleet declined with a gesture. He kept his eyes fixed on the surface of the water, an ache building behind his frown.

‘So if it’s not Richardson,’ Randy said, lighting his second cigarette, ‘it must be somebody else entirely. Someone who’s punishing all three of them? For something they did? The murder of Ben Draper being the obvious infraction. Except we just agreed that whoever killed Lance and Melissa also killed Ben.’

‘You agreed that,’ said Fleet, his frown deepening. ‘All of a sudden I’m not so sure. Unless—’

Voices were raised further along the docks, and Fleet and Randy turned. A news van had pulled up beside the police cordon, and a pair of uniformed officers were busy trying to prevent a camera crew breaching the perimeter.

After watching the commotion for a moment, Randy turned back to Fleet and cocked his head. ‘Unless what? Don’t keep me in suspense, Detective Inspector.’

‘It’s nothing. I …’ Fleet watched the news team for a moment longer, his thoughts slowly crystallising in his head. You never know, came Holly’s voice, a fresh perspective might help.

‘Rob?’ Randy prompted. ‘What’s on your mind? You’ve got a look like my first wife used to get just before she decided it was time to redecorate.’

Fleet turned to him. ‘We’ve been looking for a killer,’ he said. ‘But maybe, all along, we should have been looking for another victim.’

Randy narrowed his eyes. ‘You mean three isn’t enough for you?’

‘No, I … Shit.’ Fleet had started frisking himself to try to find his mobile, and realised he must have left it in his car. ‘Can I borrow your phone?’