If Thompson's theory was correct, Clitheroe escaped from jail, shook off his pursuers during the early evening of Tuesday, and while still on the run, raped and murdered Kim Catchpole and then went to ground.

Several days, and no sign of him.

No clothing, no camp, nothing. No food stolen from local shops, no-one else murdered or assaulted so that he could exchange his prison uniform for their clothes.

It did not add up.

And yet it could only have been Clitheroe. Nobody but he and Thompson knew what he had done to the Bartram girl that had also been done to Kim Catchpole. And the other girls. Most of them, no, all of them. Not even the pathologist knew at the time.....no, it could only have been Clitheroe, there was absolutely no doubt.

And there remained the other puzzle. Why no one had bothered to check on the whereabouts of Kim Catchpole. You did not assume that a young girl had arrived where she was meant to be going. Not in this modern world of rapists and murderers.....you made sure she had arrived safely. And if you were Kerry Macklin, you were not left to your own devices for several days without someone, a neighbour, a relative checking up on you, making sure you weren't getting up to something you shouldn't.

Thompson was becoming confused.

What had seemed like a clear case of a repeat murder with an identical modus operandi was turning into something resembling one of those television detective mysteries that unravelled slowly and kept you guessing until the final credits. But it had to have been Clitheroe, didn’t it?

By now Kieron Macklin and his wife should be home. He decided he needed to talk to them, to find out exactly what arrangements they had made for the well-being of Kerry while they were away. He needed to talk to Kerry again, to break down her tissue of lies about spending the last few days feeling desperately ill, being entirely alone. He needed to talk to Peter Bellamy again. If Donald Clitheroe was Kim Catchpole’s murderer, and there was no doubt whatsoever in Thompson’s mind that he was, then it had to be a set up.

It had to have been arranged. His whole reason for escaping. He ought to warn Vanessa and Alex Hegan, because they must be next on his list. Thompson did not think that Clitheroe stood much of a chance of getting from Sculthorpe to the Manor House in Sharringford, three miles away, without being apprehended. For that reason, he supposed that Vanessa was safe enough for the time being. And Alex Hegan lived quite nearby. He could probably take care of himself. Nevertheless, Thompson began to feel a sense of frustration at not being able to arrange official protection for them.

Having refused to take the case he could hardly ask Wilson to send officers to Sharringford while Clitheroe was last seen in Sculthorpe. Wilson would tell him to ‘get stuffed’. Thompson resolved to check up on Vanessa and Alex before the day was over, either by personal visit or telephone call.

Yes, it had to be something he had planned over several months, years even, something he had broken out of jail specifically to do, and something for which he must have had assistance. It had to be something to do with the fact that the three of them, Vanessa, Kim and Alex had been around at the time of one of Donald Clitheroe’s murders.

In the early hours of the investigation he had neglected to consider the important things like motive and opportunity, probably because in the previous murder there had been no apparent motive, and the opportunity had presented itself out of the blue on a high summer's day.

But to break out of jail and kill again within a few hours was something that had to be planned, and Clitheroe must have had prior knowledge of who his victim was going to be and where she was going to be at the precise time he had raped and murdered her on Sunday night.

Thompson pulled out of the car park, unaware that he had been sitting there, just thinking, for well over two hours. He drove south out of the town on the one-way system, past the bowling alley, over the river, out through the suburban village and the garden centre until he came to the Macklin house.

It was four-forty-five. The lights were on, there was a new Rover parked in the drive. It was an old, detached house, with a bungalow on one side, a row of three cottages on the other.

Thompson got out of the car and walked along the lane, past the bungalow. That was the direction in which Kim Catchpole would have been cycling. A long, lonely, deserted stretch of road lay beyond the bungalow, a good mile and a half from Sharringford. Ample opportunity for someone to follow and abduct Kim. There was open heathland nearby, and the old, disused quarry, for a start. That was where Clitheroe had taken the life of young Mary Bailey, and it was Kim who had put the finger on him.

He walked up to the Macklins' front door and rang the bell. After a moment or two the door was opened by Vera Macklin. She peered anxiously up at Thompson, her face deathly pale. She was clearly frightened.

He held up his hands reassuringly.

'Oh, it's you, Inspector! I didn't recognise you for a moment!'

Kieron Macklin appeared behind her.

'Come in, Inspector. I've spoken to Ken Hargreaves. Have you caught the bastard yet?'

'No, I'm afraid not. Not as far as I know.' There again, how would I know. Why should anyone bother to tell me? He made another mental note, this time to ring Ken Hargreaves as soon as the possibility presented itself. Surely they’d have caught Clitheroe by now?

They went into the living room. There was no sign of Kerry.

'Can I ask you a couple of questions? There's something bothering me.'

'Of course. Fire away. Drink?'

'No, thank you. I'm intrigued to know if you left anyone in charge of Kerry while you were away?'

Macklin frowned. It was not the question he had been expecting to hear.

'Of course. Mrs Lawrence next door, in the bungalow. She kept an eye on Kerry for us. She always does. What does that have to do with.....'

'Nothing, nothing at all, it's just that Kerry didn't mention it.'

'No reason to, I suppose. Vera, make us some coffee, will you?'

'Not for me, thanks.'

'Are you sure? We're having some.'

'No, really, I shall be off duty soon. Is Kerry around?' In fact, I’m off duty now, and saying what he had said implied he was still on duty. That constituted fraud, didn’t it? Dangerous game you’re playing, Thompson, he thought.

'She's lying down, has been most of the afternoon. It's shaken her badly, I'm afraid.'

'Is she awake? Could I talk to her for a few minutes?'

'I don't think she's asleep. You can go up if you want to, I'll just tell her.'

Vera Macklin came in with two cups of coffee while Kieron called up the stairs to his daughter.

'You can go up,' he said again. 'Do you want one of us with you?'

'Not if you're happy for me to talk to her alone.'

Macklin nodded.

Thompson went slowly up the stairs to the door Macklin had indicated and knocked softly.

'Come in,' she said.

The room was small but unexpectedly tidy, nicely decorated in a regency stripe and a floral border. Kerry's bed doubled as a storage unit, full of books and magazines. A hundred or so soft toys adorned a shelf and there were more on the foot of the bed. Apart from that, there were one or two personal items, some small ornaments, and an open cupboard covered by a curtain. All in all, it was a nice, cosy little room.

Kerry was still wearing her dressing gown. She smiled, and he thought she looked pleased to see him. They were so vulnerable, young people, when something like this happened, he thought. All the bravado, all the self-confidence simply evaporated. She was just a little girl, really, playing with adult’s toys. He supposed Sally would be the same under similar circumstances.

'A couple more questions, if you don't mind, Kerry.'

'I don't mind. Have you caught the murderer yet?'

'No, I'm afraid not. It won't be long, though, I'm sure.'

'Sit down.'

He perched on the end of the bed. She looked smaller, more vulnerable in this new environment. Right now she reminded him of his own daughters.

'What did you want to ask me?'

'Your Dad said that Mrs Lawrence was supposed to keep an eye on you. You didn't mention that.'

'She was supposed to, yes.'

'Does that mean that she didn't?'

'I saw her in the evening, that was all.'

'Have you told your parents that?'

'No. I'd rather they didn't know. The old lady's useless. I told her not to bother.'

'Because you were expecting Bellamy?'

Kerry's eyes lowered. She began to bite her lip.

'At the moment, I don't need to tell your parents, Kerry, but I do need to know exactly what happened here after Kim failed to turn up. Bellamy was here, wasn't he?'

She looked up at last, but her eyes would not meet his.

'I know he was here, Kerry. Those cigarette ends were his. You know it and I know it. You don't smoke.'

'I might have started.....'

Thompson shook his head.

'Look, I'm making this as easy as I can for you. I just need to know if Bellamy was here at all, if anything happened, if either of you saw or heard anything of Kim during that time.'

'I told you, she never turned up! Yes, he was here. You know very well he was here! If he finds out you know, or if my parents find out, I've had it!' She spoke in a controlled, fierce whisper. Every now and then her eyes would dart to the door, as though she expected one of her parents to be listening. Thompson felt sorry for her. Her parents obviously did not care as much about her as she deserved. She was basically a nice, intelligent, attractive young girl who lacked parental guidance and support.

There, easy to say, but how easy to prove? Mind your own business, Thompson. Macklin is a thoroughly decent, professional man. What gives you the right to judge him about how he treats his daughter?

'I've already seen him. He denies being here, of course. I could put him away for a while if I wanted to. I have enough hard evidence against him. But sooner or later, he's going to do something really bad. At the moment, the only one he's hurting is himself.....and you, if you carry on associating with him. He's not worth it, Kerry. Now, what else happened before your parents got back?'

'What else?'

'Did Bellamy stay here the whole time, did he go out at all, did he say he'd seen anyone? Anything? Anything at all?'

'He went out once. He came back drunk. He didn't say anything. He doesn't talk much.'

'Kerry, look, I want you to make me a promise. I want you to keep away from Bellamy from now on. He's dangerous. He's harming you and he's dangerous. I won't tell your parents he was here. But only if you promise me you won't have any more to do with him. Will you do that?'

Kerry nodded. She had already made up her mind that Bellamy was bad for her.

'Right. Now I'm going to have a word with Mrs Lawrence.'

'What about?'

'Routine questions. She may have seen Kim before she was taken.'

'You think Kim set out to come here?'

'I do. I don't think she was too far away from here when the murderer picked her up. I believe she was murdered nearby, then taken to the cathedral. She certainly left Mrs Robertson’s house, and we have no reason to believe she was going anywhere but here, to stay with you. You don’t know where else she might have been going? Boyfriend, something like that?'

‘No,' Kerry said. ‘She was coming here. Why was she taken to North Elmham?’

'I've no idea. To throw us off the scent, maybe. Nobody goes down there at this time of the year. Even in the fine weather there aren’t too many visitors. And don't forget it's been raining heavily for two days. Maybe it was simply a gesture.'

'Inspector Thompson?'

'Yes, Kerry?'

'Do you think he'll do it again?'

'I wish I knew. We'll get him, soon, I promise.'

He left her and returned to the living room.

'That's all for now, Mr and Mrs Macklin,' he said. 'I'm just going to have a word with your neighbour, then if you want me you know where to contact me, you know my telephone number, and where I live? Please give me a ring if any of you have anything you want to say.' It occurred to him that if they did need to report something, something they thought of, something that happened subsequent to his visit, they would be more likely to ring the station.

Why had he refused to take the case?

He was involved, he was working on it now, for Christ’s sake! Just some stupid pride thing and resentment at the way Wilson had tried to bully him into returning to full-blown CID work before he was ready!

'Of course,' Macklin said, and Thompson’s mood relaxed.

'And don't worry, we will have the man behind bars very soon, I give you my word.'

He left the Macklins' house and walked next door to Mrs Lawrence's bungalow. She was a widow, aged around sixty-five. She was short, broad, narrow-minded, kept very much to herself. She moved the living room curtain to one side in order to see who was standing at her front door. She did not know Thompson, but she guessed immediately that he was a police officer. Luckily, she did not ask to see his warrant card, and let him in.

'Mrs Lawrence, I understand Mr Macklin asked you to look after his daughter over the weekend and while they were away, until today, in fact?'

'Yes, that's right.'

'And did you do it?'

'Oh, yes, until Tuesday night.'

'Tuesday night?'

'Yes, that's what I said.'

'What exactly was the arrangement, Mrs Lawrence?'

'They went off to London and asked me to look in on Kerry every now and then to make sure she was getting her meals okay, and to make sure she wasn't messing around. With boys, if you take my meaning.'

Thompson nodded. He took her meaning only too well.

'And you were satisfied that she was all right?'

'Look, I don't suppose you will approve of this, but Kerry and I have an understanding. If she wants something, she comes to me. If she don't, I assume she's all right. After all, it's not as if Mr Macklin ever gives me anything for my trouble.'

'Do you think he should?'

'It's quite a responsibility, looking after a teenaged girl, you know.'

Tell me about it.

'Quite. So as far as you were concerned, Kerry was all right. In no danger? Physical or moral?'

'Well, it depends how you look at it, don't it? I mean, she's been carrying on with that Bellamy boy for some time, now. It ain't for me to interfere where I'm not wanted, is it?'

'But isn't that exactly what Mr and Mrs Macklin would have wanted you to do, Mrs Lawrence? Did you have reason to believe that Bellamy was at the house?'

'I didn't see him arrive, if that's what you mean. But I saw him leave the house in the morning, and I saw him go back in during the afternoon. I knew he were there, yes.'

'And you didn't think you should do anything about it?'

'Like I told you, I don't get paid or nothing. I just watch out for her. In any case, she can take care of herself, that one. And besides, it ain't my place to go tackling youngsters like him. Nasty piece of work, he is!'

'I'd agree with you there, Mrs Lawrence. You thought Kerry could take care of herself? You realise she was probably having sex with Bellamy all the time?'

'Of course.'

'And you condone that?'

'Nothing to do with me.'

Thompson found himself fighting the temptation to start lecturing the old lady.

'Surely that was one of the things the Macklins asked you to watch out for?'

Mrs Lawrence studied his face carefully, and shook her head slowly.

'He don't pay me nothin'. I don't make moral judgements, I just keep an eye out for the girl. 'S far as I were concerned, she were all right.'

'She told me and my colleagues that she had had the 'flu all the time her parents were away.'

'And I expect you believed her!'

'Wasn't it true?'

'I heard 'em in there, Inspector. There weren't no 'flu. Gruntin' and groanin', there were. Plenty of that, yes! But no 'flu. She's a good liar, that 'un!'

'And you didn't feel up to tackling her about Bellamy being there? You realise he’s into drugs?'

'I told you, none of my business. Nothin' to do with me what she gets up to. If I got paid for it, that's different, I'd have her in here with me or something, but I still wouldn't tackle that feller.'

'Mrs Lawrence, you said you called on Kerry once or twice?'

'Yes, that's right.'

'But not after Bellamy arrived? Was that because he was there then?'

'He weren't there for long. He got chucked out. I saw Mr Macklin come home early Wednesday, and the next I knew Peter Bellamy were out on the pavement.'

Thompson frowned.

'Macklin came home?'

'That's right. I suppose it was him. Who else would it be'd let hisself in like that? I was up. I couldn't sleep. I saw him drive up. About five minutes after that the door opened and the Bellamy lad got slung out.'

'What time would that be, Mrs Lawrence?'

''Bout three o'clock in the morning. I couldn’t sleep. I came down to get a hot drink.'

You just happened to be around at the time that Kieron Macklin arrived home, three o’clock in the morning, and chucked Peter Bellamy out of his house. I don’t think so! Thompson chuckled to himself. If it hadn’t led to a young girl ending up murdered, it would be almost funny. The woman was pathetic! An uncaring, nosey neighbour who just wanted something to gossip about and was evidently prepared to stay up all night watching, if necessary.

'You're sure it was Macklin?'

'That's why I never went round there again.'

'And did you see him go again, the following morning?'

'I thought I heard a car start up, about four o'clock in the morning, but I didn't see nothing. I just assumed he was still there. I didn't realise she was on her own, I thought he'd come home for good, to look after himself, like.'

Thompson sat in silence for a few minutes, digesting Mrs Lawrence's startling revelation.

'Mrs Lawrence, there's something else I have to ask you. You are aware that Kim Catchpole was supposed to be staying with Kerry during this period?'

'Yes.'

'You didn't see her during that time, at all? She was supposed to be at Kerry's house Friday night, but she didn't turn up.'

'No, I never saw her. Kerry said she'd decided not to come after all.'

'And you didn't see anyone suspicious? Someone you didn't know?'

'No, I can't say as I did.'

'No, well, if you think of anything, you can reach me at home, on this number. Thanks for your time, you've been most helpful.'

'You're welcome, I'm sure.'

As he climbed back into his car, Thompson realised that Mrs Lawrence had at no time made any mention of the fact that Kim Catchpole had been murdered, nor enquired after the hunt for the murderer. What she had told him would keep him busy for a while, though.

But it could wait. Another interview with Kieron Macklin was the last thing he wanted right now. Then there was the place where Clitheroe had disappeared, gone to ground. That would have to wait till tomorrow.

He was famished.

Dinner first, more questions afterwards. He was not finished with the Macklin household yet. Not by a long chalk.

He let in the clutch and drove slowly, thoughtfully home.