Sarah sat on the sofa, cradling a mug of tea. A repeat of a KCOM News report was on the local television channel. A young blond man with a red nose appeared half frozen as he stood outside Slayton police station. A bunch of disgruntled townspeople had gathered in the search for answers. People were scared. They needed someone to blame. As the reporter listed the police’s perceived failings, he seemed more than happy to join in. Such pressure would ensure an arrest. The public needed to see results. She switched off the TV just as an image of Angelica flashed up on the screen.

Sarah had been the same age when her family was murdered. Was that why the Midnight Man had chosen them? What sort of agenda did he have? And what did he want with her? The question gnawed at her constantly, an unnerving hum in the background. As the room fell into silence, she glanced at Sherlock’s empty chair, feeling guilty for worrying about her cat when there were parents in Slayton going through a living hell. Resting her mug on the coffee table, she turned over the page of the photo album she had borrowed from Maggie. Sarah didn’t have many mementoes of the past, but tonight she was not reminiscing. She was looking for clues.

She scanned the photos, picking up things she had missed the first time around. Simon Irving, looking as arrogant as ever with his sweatshirt tied around his neck. Elsie, with her chubby cheeks and homemade clothes which made her look out of place. To think, what had gone on between her and Irving. It made Sarah uneasy in her seat. Switching her focus, she traced her finger over the image of her and David. The pain she felt at seeing her husband’s picture didn’t seem as raw as before. Next to her was Maggie, looking gorgeous in a T-shirt and red shorts, and towering above them both was Lewis, sporting floppy hair and his lopsided grin. He had a look of Elliott about him. With his long lashes and dark hair, she could see the resemblance now. But there was another dark-haired person in the background that she hadn’t noticed the first time around. Was that …? She peered at the image, wishing she could enlarge it. It was. Richie was standing in the background, clean-shaven and youthful, his motorbike jacket held over his shoulder with one finger. Half the town must have attended the outdoor cinema that night. She flicked through the rest of the photos, seeing who else she recognised. Even her DI, Bernard Lee, had turned up with his other half. He was a lot slimmer back then, but she’d recognise him anywhere. The album was a feast of memories and she felt sure the answers were in the past. They had to be. But who would hate her enough to want to make her life hell?