‘I know. There’s more than one red face in the mobile division this morning, believe me. The old man was like a raving lunatic, apparently.’

‘And can you blame him? Jesus wept! If we’re not careful we’ll have the heavy mob down here offering to hold our hands!

‘Well, I’d better get in to see Ratchette. Do me a favour would you? Find me a decent cup of coffee.’

Amanda nodded.

Kate made her way to the Superintendent’s office, her mind whirling. No mobile units at a rave? It was bloody laughable. The barn where it was held was owned by a local farmer, John Ellis, and if Kate knew anything about it, he had known exactly what was going on. He would sell his own mother for a profit. She knocked on Ratchette’s door.

‘Hello, sir.’

‘Ah, Kate. Bad business this. What do you think?’

‘In all honesty, sir, I don’t think Louise Butler’s coming home. It’s just a case of looking for the body really. Once we ascertain her movements, we’ll know more. Someone somewhere must have seen her.’

‘True. Now listen carefully. I’ve had the big boys on to me today. They’re sending a Chief Inspector over to work with you. I must stress that it’s to work with you, OK? He’s a good man, you’ve probably heard of him. Caitlin.’

Kate groaned. Oh, please, not Kenneth Caitlin!

Ratchette saw her face and snapped at her: ‘Look, Kate, whether you like it or not, the man’s coming. You are a Detective Inspector, I am a Superintendent. You take your orders from me and I take mine from the Chief Constable. Just try and work with him. Whatever his reputation, he gets results.’

Kate looked at the floor. Her heart had sunk down into her shoes.

‘All right?’ Ratchette’s voice was still hard.

‘Yes, sir.’

‘Good. Now before he arrives, have you any thoughts on this that you want to talk to me about?’

‘Actually, yes. In 1984 at Enderby in Leicester two young girls were raped and murdered. There was nothing to go on at all. The police took blood samples from just about every male in the vicinity. The only thing we’ve got here is the DNA of the murderer. I think, if nothing else, we should try and eliminate as many men as possible by DNA testing in the area.’

Ratchette’s wrinkled face was incredulous.

‘You’re joking. Do you know how much that would cost?’

‘A little over half a million pounds. I know it will be expensive, but for Christ’s sake we’re dealing with a maniac.’

‘You realise that some men won’t allow us to take their blood?’

‘Then they will immediately be under suspicion.’ Ratchette shook his head.