‘Yes,’ Connie said. ‘Yes, he will. He’s unstable. He’s dangerous. Whatever fantasy is in his head will prove unfulfilling one way or another. When that day comes, his emotional dam will burst. Has that already happened? Maybe, maybe not. Which is why we assume alive, so we proceed as speedily as possible before he does kill again. At the moment, calling him out via the press seems an option worth pursuing.’

‘So be it,’ Overbeck said. ‘But a word of warning. This tactic requires us to reveal to the families of all our missing persons that their loved ones are part of a larger scheme that is at best terrifying and at worst shows that their precious abductees are in the hands of a ruthless killer. So I’m going to need results.’

‘I understand—’

‘Let me qualify that. I’m going to need fuck-up-free results. No one dies because of the decision I’ve just taken. This man has kidnapped the daughter-in-law of an extremely prominent philanthropist, a little girl and a physically vulnerable adult. For this to end well, each one of them needs to survive unharmed. I’m assuming also that you’d like your career to continue with your reputation intact hereafter.’

Connie folded her arms and stepped even closer into Overbeck’s face.

‘I suspect that sort of professional intimidation is more effective on people with a different history than mine. I’m going to do my best to make this work because lives hang in the balance. Not for any other reason. But nice try.’

‘Whatever the fuck it takes,’ Overbeck said. ‘Press conference in one hour. Make me proud.’

‘That was better. Has no one ever told you, you’re much more effective when you’re motivational rather than threatening,’ Connie said.

‘Has anyone ever told you not to shit where you eat?’ Overbeck replied, walking away.

Baarda gave it a few seconds before taking her place.

‘Everything all right?’ he asked.

‘She likes me,’ Connie said. ‘Which is what I need from our skeleton man, too. Let’s get to work.’

Wearing the skinniest jeans she could find and a t-shirt so tight it might as well have been sprayed on, Connie sat on a chair on the small stage in the press room, alone. It was a far cry from normal police press conferences. A representative from the media liaison team had gone into meltdown while Connie was explaining how she needed the press call to go. There wasn’t to be a uniform in sight. No panel. No desk, nor formal microphones. Just informal clothes and a lapel mic. She wasn’t going to wear any makeup, and there would be no questions taken when she’d finished speaking.

‘You’re still representing Police Scotland,’ the liaison officer had groaned. ‘We have protocols. The families of the missing persons will be watching too, and they’ll expect a level of respect.’