It was a picture of Louise Butler and Terry recognised her at once as the girl who had run out in front of his car on the night of the rave. The girl who was being chased by the bloke in the weird headgear. He had had to swerve to avoid them. He read the article and frowned. They believed she had been murdered by the Grantley Ripper although as yet no body had turned up. He ran his hands through his hair. Should he go to the police?

If he went to them he would have to admit that he left her there. That he was high as a kite on Ecstasy and had thought they were larking about!

He screwed up the paper and threw it on the kitchen table.

He knew what he would do. He would talk it over with Charlie when he got in from work.

Terry relaxed a bit now that he had made a decision. Charlie would know what to do. He always did.

The search for Louise Butler had been going on for over two days. Police had covered every piece of waste ground, undergrowth, field, wood. Even the quarry.

Nothing.

Kate Burrows and Kenneth Caitlin were getting worried. If something didn’t break, and soon, they would be back to square one. Frogmen had dragged the local river. Every shed and garage and outbuilding had been searched. Louise Butler had disappeared off the face of the earth.

Every sex pest and rapist had been interviewed and their whereabouts checked out.

Still nothing.

The Grantley Ripper looked set for a long reign of terror.

Kate sat in her office staring at the files in front of her. She rubbed her eyes with her finger and thumb of her right hand. She was bone tired. Caitlin was off at the BBC studios, he was appearing on Crimewatch later in the evening. He had walked in and taken over and the marvel man had come up with nothing. Kate looked around her at the busy incident room.

Phones were ringing, computer screens were displaying information, and still there was nothing to go on. She thought again of the Leicester murders. If they could get even some of the men in Grantley to take the blood test they would be halfway home. Because if only three thousand of the potential five thousand male suspects took the test, that was three thousand they could eliminate. There was also the chance that the man himself would go for the test. If they sent haematologists around local firms and offices then men would be honour bound to take the blood test when they saw their colleagues taking it. A subtle form of coercion.

But no one in authority would even countenance the idea. Money. It all came down to bloody money.

Kate chewed on her bottom lip. There must be something she had missed.