She watched Adrian study the pictures for hints and clues. She had to admire his resilience. You could tell the people who had written him off as guilty because they had a sheepish look on their faces around him. There were others who clearly didn’t believe he would be accused without some possibility of truth behind the accusations.

‘You go home if you want, Grey, I’ll speak to the DCI, I’ve got a few things to do here.’

‘You sure?’ she asked, but the truth was she was happy to go; she was so tired. She hadn’t slept since this case had started; somehow the news that Parker was back had made her feel a little safer, which was admittedly an odd thing to feel about the presence of a serial killer. Sometimes when she was half asleep she could hear him whispering into her ear, telling her everything was going to be all right, half memory, half imagination. A remnant of the last time she was with Parker as he held her hand, comforting her, making sure she was OK as they waited for an ambulance after a bullet had ripped through her. Knowing that they had at least some answers also took the heat off, even though Parker being linked to this case could complicate things dramatically. If anyone found out they knew he had killed people and let him go, they would have bigger problems than a disciplinary hearing.

Chapter Twenty-One

Six months earlier

Abbey sat eating her sandwich on one of the marble benches opposite the fountain near the statue of Cary Grant by the harbourside area in Bristol, posed to look as though he was walking through the square. She watched a little girl as she splashed in the fountain, up to her ankles in the water. Her father sat nearby on a bench, looking at his phone, occasionally mumbling encouragement at his daughter. Abbey remembered days with her father in the park, no mobile phone to distract him, his attention on her, making sure she had fun. With no mother to look after her, she had always been very close to her father, until she wasn’t. She hadn’t seen him in over a year now, and that wasn’t even unusual any more. They had lost each other, and they couldn’t find a way back after everything that had happened, after everything they had done. She couldn’t forgive him for the actions he had taken after she had left university and he struggled with who she became after she was sexually assaulted.

It was a warm day in late September and people were still desperately clinging to the last trails of summer. Abbey had her university books next to her. She heard a loud scream as the little girl fell face first into the water. The girl’s father came rushing over and pulled her out. As her little legs left the water, they started to bleed in little starbursts. She had fallen in some broken glass. The square was surrounded by pubs and someone must have tossed a bottle into the fountain. Panicked, her father dumped her in the pushchair and rushed away, presumably to get her to a doctor. Silence descended on the square again and Abbey was pulled from thoughts of her broken relationship with her father.