Willis coloured slightly. He had not been a DS for long and this was his first big case. No one else had mentioned this fact except Spencer. But what more could he expect from the man? He was the most ignorant, bigoted and self-opinionated officer in the whole of the division.

‘Well, thanks for the little reminder, Spencer. All this new empathy policing should be just up your street, I reckon. Since we’re obviously looking for a complete and utter pratt, we can all just follow your line of thinking, can’t we?’

Spencer looked as if he had been slapped across the face. ‘You cheeky little bastard!’

Willis grinned. ‘And you’re a miserable old bastard. Know your trouble, Spencer? You never got further than DS, did you? Well, if you listened to yourself sometimes, you might find out why.’

Willis walked away, leaving Spencer open-mouthed with astonishment and rage. But against his will a phrase sprung to mind which he could not ignore: The truth hurts.

How many times had he said that to other people?

Too many.

He forced his mind back to the case, looking at the blown-up photograph of Geraldine O’Leary on the wall.

It was one of the pictures taken in the morgue. Her greying face with the splintered nose was pinned up beside another smaller photograph taken a few months previously by her husband. In it Geraldine was laughing, her eyes crinkled at the corners. She looked what she was: a beautiful young wife.

Spencer shrugged. Willis was right about one thing. The man who murdered her had to be caught, and fast. Before he struck again.

Chapter Four

Chapter Four

1948

The two small boys walked fast. Driving rain was pelting into their faces. The smaller of the two had red-rimmed eyes and had obviously been crying. A large clap of thunder boomed overhead, followed by a flash of lightning that lit up the sky.

‘Come on, George, for Christ’s sake.’ The bigger boy began to drag his brother along by his coat sleeve. As they turned into a small cul-de-sac George tried to pull away.

‘I’m not going in there. I mean it.’

Joseph sighed loudly and faced his brother. He did not like the job he had been given. In his heart of hearts he couldn’t blame Georgie for running off, but their mother’s word was law. He looked into the terrified little face before him.

‘Look, Georgie, the sooner you get in there, the sooner it will be over. Now come on.’