As she hung up to the station, her phone rang. It was her father, Elias.

‘Imogen.’

‘It’s not really a good time right now.’

‘I know you’re busy and I’m sorry to bother you. I just wondered if you had given any more thought to meeting your brothers.’

She wished she hadn’t answered the phone. With Caitlin lying dead before her, Imogen immediately started thinking about her dead mother, something she had been ignoring quite well so far. In Imogen’s mind, her mother was where she always was. The sadness in Elias’s voice forced her to face the truth.

‘I’m sorry, I just don’t think I’m ready yet. I know it’s important to you, but I just need more time,’ she said, aware that she was on the verge of crying all of a sudden. She could hear the ambulance sirens fast approaching. She needed to get back to work.

‘I understand. I hope you are well.’

‘I’ll call you soon, I promise,’ she said, hanging up the phone before she lost control of herself completely.

The ambulance Caitlin’s grandfather had called arrived. Imogen shook her head at the paramedics as they ran past her. Caitlin was gone. There would be no resuscitation.

Chapter Thirty-One

13 days ago

Parker was wearing the university maintenance staff uniform. He found this made him entirely unmemorable if not invisible. He was able to walk in and out of rooms without suspicion, as long as he was careful not to bump into any of the other maintenance staff, who would have surely recognised him as not being one of them. He had been watching and waiting to see how the faculty reacted to Hugh Norris’s death. For the most part, everyone was suitably distraught. Gillian Mitchell was clearly not; he could see right through her. He had yet to determine whether she knew about the murder before it happened, whether she had orchestrated it in some way. He’d watched and followed Gillian all morning – she had stopped and spoken to colleagues about the tragedy that had happened, expressed her concern for her own safety and exasperation at the lack of information from the police. There was something mechanical and rehearsed about her performance. She was almost definitely a sociopath. Playing to the crowds.

A part of the building had been cordoned off by police and the students were desperate to find out what had happened. He heard lots of whispers about a shooting, or terrorism, some other ludicrous conspiracy theories. The police were everywhere, searching the grounds; this was not a good time to be in the middle of it, and yet it was the best time, because it was when he might see the monsters. The way people reacted to a trauma was always very telling.

He followed Gillian Mitchell back to her office. She was just about to go in when Parker saw the familiar faces of DS Adrian Miles and DS Imogen Grey. He had known this was a possibility, but seeing them here like this made him feel vulnerable and exposed. One turn of the head and it could all be over. He watched from the corner for as long as he could. He had a bond with them; he didn’t see them as the enemy but he didn’t want to take his chances. He watched on affectionately as they approached Gillian Mitchell. She put her sad mask back on and answered their questions. He wanted to tell them not to believe her, to arrest her, but another part of him wanted to deal with her himself, to mete out his own brand of justice. He looked forward to it, but it scared him that he felt that way. He became increasingly annoyed at Gillian for lying to them and maybe even more annoyed at them for falling for it.