‘The Yorkshire Ripper killed thirteen women, sir, and was finally caught during a routine inquiry. Otherwise there’s no knowing just how many more he would have killed. What we have here is a chancer. The psychological profile is of a man who hates women, that much we already know. A man who has a job that could possibly have brought him into contact with the victims, though I don’t think so myself. If the women knew him, there would be someone else who knows him as well in the same capacity. The psychologist also says he’s likely to be married. That narrows the field down a bit, if it’s correct. He also has a knowledge of the area so is obviously a local man. Other than the dark-coloured car seen at the scene of the second murder, and a dark green car seen at the first, we have nothing whatsoever to go on.’

Caitlin watched her. Women were always so emotional. They took their cases personally.

‘Well, I’m appearing on Crimewatch this week. Maybe something will come of that. Someone who’s not from the area could have been driving through and seen something.’

‘Yeah, and pigs might fly.’ Kate’s voice was bitter.

Caitlin took another puff on his cigar.

‘Pigs can fly already, or so the druggies think when they see the police helicopters.’

Kate closed her eyes. The man thought everything was a big joke. She stood and picked up her jacket from the back of her chair.

‘Where you off to?’

‘I’m going to see how the search is going on.’

‘Leave that to the uniforms, they’ll let us know soon enough if they find something. It’s bitter cold out.’

As Kate opened her mouth to answer, the phone on her desk rang. She picked it up.

‘I’ll be straight down.’

Caitlin heard the excitement in her voice.

‘Who was that?’

‘I think we may have a breakthrough. Come on.’

Geoffrey Winbush walked hesitantly into Grantley Police Station. The desk sergeant smiled at him.

‘What can I do for you, son?’

‘It’s about the disappearance of Louise Butler. I think I may be able to help like. I think I saw her.’

The desk sergeant was all business now. Opening the security door, he led the boy through to an interview room.

‘What’s your name and address, son?’

‘Geoffrey Winbush, 122 Tenerby Road.’

The sergeant wrote it all down.

‘Well, sit yourself down. There’ll be someone to see you in a minute.’

Leaving the boy sitting at the table, he went back to his desk and phoned up to Kate. Sergeant Mathers hoped that the boy could shed some light on the case.