‘As in I’m repressing something, even from myself, and it’s coming out in the form of sleepwalking?’ This time he was looking directly at her.

‘Exactly.’ She sat back. ‘So, Mr Shields, can you think of anything in your past that was not adequately addressed at the time? Even if you can’t share it with me, perhaps it’s time to get it out into the open and face it. If there can be a release, a catharsis, then healing will follow.’

‘And the sleepwalking would stop?’

‘I’m certain of it.’

There was a silence. Then Freddie Shields shrugged. ‘There’s nothing.’

She had expected this. Keeping her voice even, she said, ‘Talk to your mother. You’re an adult now. Talk to her about what scared her when you were small and walked in your sleep. If we can’t address the main issue, let’s start with smaller things. Think of taking down a wall, brick by brick.’

He nodded. ‘I will, if you think it would help, but I don’t think I can mention what is happening now.’

‘One brick is good enough. But maybe she’ll understand more than you give her credit for. Mothers can be remarkably tough where their offspring are concerned.’

Soon, the time was up. Before he left, she said, ‘Earlier, I mentioned a professor of psychology that I work with. May I share your history with him? No names, just the background and your present somnambulistic activities.’

He agreed without hesitation. ‘Please do. Anything that might put an end to it. I’m terrified I’ll injure someone.’

‘Thank you. I’ll see you again later in the week, if that’s all right?’ Laura checked her diary. ‘Shall we say Friday at two? That’s good for me.’

‘I’ll be here. And thank you, Dr Archer.’

After he had gone, she made herself a strong coffee and called Sam Page.

CHAPTER TEN

Jackman paced his office. He had just left a meeting with Superintendent Ruth Crooke. Between them, they had been trying to thrash out this man’s motive. Why would he be stealing photographs of boys? They hadn’t managed to come up with anything helpful, so in the end Jackman had gone back downstairs.

Sadly, speculations were all he had. He couldn’t afford to sit around and wait for the next intrusion. He stopped pacing and sat at his desk, idly spinning the globe.

How does he even know these photos exist? he thought to himself. Does he actually know each of these women personally? Why get into the house at night when the occupants are there? Why not wait until they’re out? He appears almost to want to be seen by them. And why kill the old lady, when he hadn’t harmed anyone else? What the hell was that all about? None of it made sense.

Though he had already tried to find a common denominator among the women whose photographs had been stolen, he decided to look at them again.

He began with Annie Carson. The picture of her son, Callum, had been taken two years before, when he was ten. Annie worked from home as a part-time bookkeeper and lived in a tiny Fen village called Fenton Mere.