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The sky was dark by the time Garda Martina Brennan and Detective Sam McKeown arrived at the cinema complex. The lights spread a russet hue over the area like an old blanket. They parked at the cinema and walked back down past the area where Laura’s body had been discovered. With the crime-scene tape now removed, all that remained was a forlorn spread of wilting flowers and the sentiment of regret and sorrow.

Walking in silence along the outer wall, McKeown looked over at the football clubhouse and then at the path ahead of him.

‘It’s madness doing this at this time of the evening,’ Martina said, and marched on ahead. She was angry at the boss for pairing them together and she had nothing to say to McKeown, therefore she’d say nothing.

‘We’re in work mode, Martina, no point in giving me the silent treatment. I’m not going to jump you.’

‘Fuck off, Sam.’ So much for keeping her silence. ‘You think you’re the bee’s knees when you’re really nothing other than a shithead.’

‘Have it your own way then.’ He took off in long strides, leaving her trailing behind. Suits me just fine, she thought. The end of the boundary wall filtered into bushes and shrubs. That was when she noticed a break in the hedge, perhaps a car width. It seemed to be a man-made lane leading to the Moorland houses.

‘Hold up,’ she shouted at McKeown’s broad back, but he kept on walking.

Pulling on a pair of gloves, she took her torch from her belt and headed into the small laneway. The ground was muddy, and there were definitely tyre impressions in the soil. She moved in further along the grass verge where the rutted tracks were more visible. Glancing up, she noted the gap ended about fifty metres from the main road. A short cut into Moorland. Made by pedestrians. Had the killer local knowledge?

She left her torch on the ground, its light shining out over the tracks, and snapped a series of photos with her phone.

Glancing behind, she saw McKeown staring at her.

‘What are you doing up there?’ he said.

‘Go back to the car for tape.’

‘For what?’

‘This area needs to be cordoned off. There are tyre tracks here, but a lot of them have been trampled on by pedestrians.’

‘This isn’t on any map that I’ve seen.’

Jesus, did he have to question everything and everyone?

‘It’s man-made.’ She kept her tone neutral, trying hard not to yell at him. ‘Or person-made, whatever you want to call it. We need to cordon off the area until we can get SOCOs out here, and that won’t happen until morning.’ She showed him the photos she’d just taken.

McKeown rubbed a hand over his stubbly chin. ‘If it was used by this taxi killer, whoever he is, how did he know about it? It’s not visible if you’re driving by.’

‘He could live around here.’

‘We’ve canvassed all the houses and found nothing, but, well, good work,’ he said, his tone grudging. ‘I’ll wait. You go get the tape.’

She snapped her torch to her belt and marched off, leaving McKeown behind, a looming shadow in the dark.