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satisfied that they’d asked a question. Carson stood to go, and so everyone began to collect their microphones and laptops, all keen to edit the piece for the afternoon news.
    ‘I’ve got to go,’ Laura said.
    Jack grabbed her hand and pulled her close. ‘Can’t you give me a name for the dead woman?’ he said, his voice low.
    She squeezed his hand and smiled. ‘Nice try,’ she said, and then rushed to go after Carson, threading her way through the crowd.
    Jack tried to follow her, still hoping for an insider quote, or even just for a longer talk, but an officer stepped in front of him and made it clear that journalists were to be escorted out. Instead, he watched her walk away, deep in conversation with Joe and Carson, just three suits making their way through the tables of the police canteen.
    Jack sighed. One of the drawbacks of being involved with a police officer, he supposed, was that her job could sometimes be so damn important. He thought of how Laura could be when she was away from the station, fun and lighthearted, but also how absorbed she became when a big case came along. But as he watched her go, and thought of the two dead young women, their murderer still not caught, he knew that he wouldn’t have it any other way.

Chapter Twelve

    Carson waited until they were clear of the journalists before he asked, ‘How do you think it went?’
    Laura was surprised. Carson was a brute, direct and strong, but there was a hint of self-doubt in his voice. ‘It said enough,’ she said. ‘Maybe the serial killer question will help, because it scares, and it puts the word into people’s heads without our having to use it.’
    ‘But should we have said more?’ Carson persisted.
    ‘No,’ Joe said. ‘Say too much and you risk getting things wrong. Let’s see what comes in today, and if there is anything forensic to work from.’
    Carson nodded his agreement as they headed away from the atrium and towards the Incident Room. Everyone was already lined up and waiting for them, and so Carson went straight to the front as Laura made her way to the back. The front two rows of desks were occupied by those keen to be spotted, the shirts pristine, pastel colours and bold ties, one uniform replaced by another. Joe sat behind Carson, in a corner, to observe, as always. The room was full, all the door-to-door detectives coming back for the press conference debrief, and everyone was attentive and quiet. The discovery of the body was still too new, and so no one wanted to break rank and crack a gag, although she guessed that the respectful silence wouldn’t last to the end of the next day.
    ‘Two murders in less than a month,’ Carson said, and he banged the whiteboard behind him with the flat of his hand. ‘We’ll get the blame for the second one after not catching him first time round. Remember that,’ and he pointed around the room, his finger going to each face. ‘If you miss something, you might be explaining it to the High Court, because Kinsella,’ and he jerked his thumb in Joe’s direction, ‘he reckons that this isn’t going to end here.’
    Carson looked around the room slowly. The detectives had settled into clusters, with those who had been knocking on doors separate from those who had been with the extended family and friends, and they shuffled nervously as Carson met their gaze, one by one.
    ‘So has anyone got anything?’ Carson shouted at the room, prowling along the front, his paces making the photographs taped to the whiteboard flutter as he went past.
    No one spoke at first, just exchanged glances, but then someone just in front of Laura, a small man with a crew cut and moustache, coughed and strained his neck so that he could be seen.
    ‘We did the houses that back onto the scene,’ he said. ‘It’s busy down there. The local kids use the path as a mini-moto run, buzzing round most nights. And if it isn’t them, it’s kids boozing in groups. Some of the residents have had abuse when