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‘Nothing,’ Poe said, putting everything back. ‘It was just something her ex-husband said. Thought it was worth checking out.’

Poe looked into the back garden. The light was fading but he counted eleven feeders hanging from trees and shrubs, and another seven on the dedicated bird feeder she had. More fat balls than anything else – fat was what the birds needed at this time of year.

A large, stone birdbath dominated the middle of the lawn.

With the birdwatching hobby a dead end, Poe followed Pearson back into the kitchen.

‘What do you think happened here, Sergeant Poe?’ Pearson asked.

‘I’m not sure. Nothing makes sense. If he’s selecting victims at random, why choose a hard target like Rebecca? Security conscious and lives in a village with high foot traffic. And why take her, but leave Howard Teasdale in situ?’

‘Teasdale was a fat man. Perhaps he was too heavy to abduct. Or he could be adapting,’ Pearson said. ‘Maybe killing Howard Teasdale didn’t do for him what he thought it would.’

‘Possibly. Although we can’t assume that the order the fingers were found is the order the victims were killed or abducted.’

‘Maybe Rebecca Pridmore is the only one that matters then. He’s hiding her murder among two others?’

‘Maybe,’ Poe agreed. He’d heard worse theories. He thumbed Bradshaw a text asking her to profile BAE. He also told her that she would be with him in the morning. If he wasn’t allowed to remove Rebecca’s laptop from her home, Bradshaw would have to forensically examine it where it was.

Before he read her immediate response his phone rang. It was Flynn.

‘They’ve identified the third victim, Poe.’

Chapter 14

The third victim was called Amanda Simpson. ‘Mandi’ to her friends. She was twenty-five years old and worked as a retail assistant in Barrow. Her boyfriend was in the Duke of Lancaster’s Regiment. He was serving in Cyprus and hadn’t heard from her over the Christmas period. He’d called her estranged family and asked if they would check she was OK.

They couldn’t find her.

Her boyfriend then emailed a mate he’d gone to school with who was now a cop. The cop had called it in and Nightingale had sent two of her team to check it out. Amanda lived in a one-bedroomed flat in a part of Barrow with a large student population. Poe knew the area but not well.

After they’d established that she was missing, the detectives checked the photographs on her fridge and the borders of her dressing-table mirror, searching for anything that could identify her as a potential victim. There weren’t many photographs as she lived her life online. Nightingale hadn’t sent two idiots, though. They contacted the boyfriend and got the passwords for her electronic devices.

It was in a photograph on her iPad that they found what they hoped they wouldn’t. Amanda and her boyfriend were having a meal out somewhere. Abroad, judging by their clothes and suntans.

She was holding a glass of fizz.

And one of her fingernails was pierced with the same teddy bear stud they’d found in the font

in Saint Luke’s Church in Barrow …

As soon as he ended the call with Flynn, Poe’s phone rang again. It was Nightingale.

‘How you getting on at Rebecca’s house?’

‘I’ll be back with Tilly tomorrow to check her laptop, but otherwise I’m nearly done.’

‘And you’re OK?’

‘I am.’

For several moments she was silent.

‘What are you after, ma’am?’ Poe asked. No way was this just a welfare call.

‘I’m a good superintendent, Poe,’ she said eventually. ‘And that means I know when to say I’m struggling.’

Poe said nothing. That couldn’t have been easy.