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Most of the building exterior had been vandalised. Graffiti plastered the walls, and there was no clear path through it which avoided the debris of glass and brick underfoot. Kim knew this would once have been the foyer to the event space and that the double doors ahead led to a hall that had once had a dividing curtain for smaller events.

No matter how slowly she tried to traverse the space, the shards and gravel crunched underfoot. A scurrying noise to her right did nothing to ease her nerves. Approaching slowly to remain undiscovered wasn’t working.

She took a deep breath, burst through the door and stopped dead at the sight that met her.

Leona Carter was tied to a chair, her head lolling backwards. A swollen bruise was evident on the left side of her face.

A figure towered over the seated figure, brandishing a knife in front of her.

‘Wake up,’ screamed Carly Spencer. ‘I want you awake when I kill you!’

‘Step away,’ Kim called out, keeping her voice calmer than she felt.

During their two conversations, Carly had seemed to be the most together person they’d spoken to, and the one least affected by her time in the spotlight. She’d recently lost her mum to natural causes and closed down a lucrative business. Kim could now see the link between all of those events, and the timing had been staring her in the face.

‘Don’t come any closer,’ Carly said, turning.

Kim didn’t dare move closer. The distance between Carly and Leona was two feet. She was more than fifteen feet away.

On her best day, Kim had no chance of covering the ground before a fatal wound was delivered.

This wasn’t a situation where she was in immediate danger. She wished it was: she’d swap places with Leona Carter in a heartbeat. But it didn’t matter if there were a hundred officers in and around the building. Not one of them could have physically restrained or disarmed the woman before she made her last kill.

And Carly knew it. She knew it was over and that she wasn’t leaving this building without handcuffs. The only question remaining was whether she would leave one more dead woman behind her.

‘Why, Carly?’ Kim asked, simply, even though she already knew the answer.

‘Of course you need to ask that,’ Carly spat. ‘I can imagine it now, a loving mother who encouraged and guided you. A mother who only ever wanted the best for you. A mother who?—’

‘I was taken into care when I was six years old,’ Kim said, giving as much detail as she was prepared to offer.

‘Lucky you. I only wish that had been my fate.’

‘But that?—’

‘Couldn’t have been any worse than what I suffered. You already know that abuse doesn’t have to be physical. That woman ruined my life.’

‘What did she do, Carly?’ Kim asked.

‘You’ll never understand. You’ll never get the damage that was done. Can you even contemplate what it was like to be put on a diet when you’re eight years old? To be fed nothing but lettuce and tomato until your weight dropped off? To have your mother call you a little “fatty” or “porky”, to insult your skin, your teeth, your nose, everything about you. All the time, every single day, remarks on your appearance. An endless cycle of practice, practice, practice. Nothing else. Not even schoolwork. Walking up and down until my heels blistered and my legs cramped, until I fainted with the effort, and even that wasn’t enough. It was all about getting those trophies and being the best.

‘You see, I wasn’t a natural pageant child. I wasn’t pretty enough; I wasn’t thin enough; I wasn’t personable enough to the judges. My mom tried to make a silk purse from a sow’s ear. She wanted a beautiful, graceful child that she could show off as a representation of herself. She clicked her fingers and I had to perform, and God forbid I made a mistake. I hated every second of it, but I tried, my God I tried, just to get a kind word from her, just to get her approval.’

‘But you look?—’

‘Oh yes, I look different now. I’ve made it so. I take any treatment I can to look good. It’s what she always wanted.’

‘You started the pageant business for your mother?’ Kim asked.

‘Of course. I was still seeking her approval until the minute she died. All I ever wanted was for her to be proud of me. It’s shaped my entire life.

‘At the pageants, they would tell us to just be ourselves, but then they taught us to be someone else with all the fakeness and trickery, so being yourself isn’t enough, is it? It’s not enough for the judges or for the people who are supposed to love you. So you tell me, Inspector, what are you supposed to do?’

‘Make yourself perfect?’ Kim asked.

‘Exactly. And I did. I always said yes when I wanted to say no. I never expressed how I truly felt. She made me settle for less than I deserved.

‘I’ve spent my entire life trying to please others, allowing people to mistreat, criticise or ignore me just to get their affection. I let fear of my mother govern every decision, and I always put myself last. That’s what she did to me.’

‘But she’s gone, Carly. She can’t hurt you any more.’

‘Oh, I know that. Her death has freed me from those constraints. The moment she took her last breath, I was euphoric. Every last bit of self-loathing, of feeling inferior fell away. I no longer had anything to prove to anyone. It was the best moment of my life.’

At that second, the door behind Kim burst open, startling them both.

Like a flash a figure shot past her.

‘Bobbi, no,’ Kim cried as the young woman ran towards the knife.