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very cruel and merciless.” Her head shook back and forward, her hands visibly shaking, and tears welled in her eyes with a stray tear visible on her cheek.
    “Did your husband ever recall seeing anyone any of the nights before this incident took place, anything that was different, anythinghe might have mentioned to you when he came home after his walk?”
    “No, not that I remember dear. Oh yes, yes, there was something one night. A few weeks back, he said he saw a tall man that looked a bit out of place. This was in the next street from Susan’s. He mentioned that he had felt uncomfortable when he had passed him.”
    “Can you be more precise, a date perhaps?” Taylor probed.
    “No, no, I’m so sorry, every day seems to merge into the next these days.”
    “Did he say anything else about this man. Did he see him more than once?”
    “No, other than he was tall and not from around here, and that he felt uncomfortable as he walked by him. No, nothing else, I’m sorry.”
    Marcus asked if there was anything else they could do for her at this time, call someone, get some help from the social services or other agency, but she had said no - it was time that she needed, time to grieve for her losses.
    The two detectives walked to their car. Marcus was moved by the loss felt by this woman, whose husband of forty years had been taken from her forever, without reason or mercy. Taylor too showed emotion, but hers was displayed more in anger and disgust at this vile man’s utter disregard for human life, and the deeply sad loss he had placed upon this woman and her family. She curled her hands into fists and rapped them off the bonnet of her car making a dent. She winced at her stupidity and the pain that now throbbed from her hands.
    Simultaneously the search officers were scouring the house at 15 Grainger Loan, Edinburgh. Every inch of the property had to be covered on their hands and knees; a fingertip search made of every room, the garden and the streets outside, as they attempted to reveal every movement of the beast that had savaged Susan. Small hairs were found and two fingernails in the recess of the upper hallway where they believed he had waited for her: a sign of impatience or nerves - which? It was unknown. The officers were in one of the rooms downstairs when they heard a faint cry like that of a small child. “What the fuck was that!” one of them exclaimed.
    It was coming from the linen cupboard at the back of theroom, the door of which was closed.
    “Whatever it is, it’s coming from that cupboard.”
    “Oh really? Well I’m not looking in it. That gave me the fucking creeps that did.”
    “You’re such a fucking sap, Stevie! I’ll look then shall I?”
    One of the other officers strode to the door where the noise had been heard, just as the noise came again and this time much louder.
    “Whooaaa!” The cop tried to make a joke out of the noise, trying not to show that he was very uncomfortable but he was noticeably uneasy as he opened the door. He slowly pulled it towards him, trying to peek inside, whilst protecting himself from what might be within. Just as he opened it a little further, a cat came leaping out from the top shelf, wailing loudly as it nearly knocked him off of his feet. It ran frantically from the room and out of sight to hide somewhere else in the house, untrusting of any strangers after what had happened. The others in the room laughed heartily at his misfortune, a regular occurrence for the team when anyone happened to come across any bad luck. Laughter and hilarity were an essential tonic in sad times for the police. Not because they didn’t care but to hide the fact that they did and they were affected by things like this.
    “You realise we’re gonna have to find that furry wee shit again!”
    “The lady apparently owned a cat and that was it and we’ve just fucking let it go.”
    “Well at least that creep never found it, I can’t imagine he would have given it a wee