The Death Pictures
doing the hoovering sometime, he thought. That, or get a cleaner in, more likely.
    Adam flopped down on the sofa and nodded.
    ‘Yeah. Duvet, bed, and some whisky beside it.’ He took a deep draw on the beer, then another, while Rutherford sniffed at his impeccably polished shoes. ‘What a bastard of a day,’ he groaned. ‘And I know there’s worse to come if we don’t get this guy soon. Much worse.’
    He couldn’t sleep. He’d expected that, but wondered why it would be. Guilt or excitement? Now, at last, he knew.
    His naked body cuddled up around the second of his calling cards, like a child with a precious Teddy Bear. He stroked it, his fingers toying with the plastic point of its peak, rubbed it through the tingling hairs on his chest. Those ecstatic minutes earlier wouldn’t leave his mind. They played again and again, the memory never losing its sharpness or thrill. He wouldn’t sleep at all tonight, he knew that now. He was too awake, too alive. Too eager for the next time.
    Chapter Two
    Heavy snoring was grumbling through the door of the spare room, so Dan whispered ‘shhh’ to Rutherford, slipped the lead around the dog’s neck and they edged quietly out of the front door. He could do with a good run to clear the thickness in his head after the beer and Adam’s outpourings of last night. He had a big interview to do today and wanted to feel fresh for it. He suspected he’d need to be sharp to handle Joseph McCluskey.
    April had brought with her a fine morning, the awakening topaz sky bisected by the single white vapour trail of a lonely jet. A pair of magpies hopped and chattered to each other on the roof of the garage next door, oily rainbows shining in their blue-black feathers. Wasn’t it two for joy? That’d be good, he could do with some. Spring was warming the world but there was still a nudge of chill in the air, so he broke into a jog. Rutherford matched the pace effortlessly beside him, the pads of his feet beating a soft rhythm on the tarmac.
    They headed down the hill from Hartley Avenue into Thorn Park and Dan freed Rutherford from the lead. The dog shot off through the watchful chestnut trees, skidded across the dewy crystal grass to stop to sniff a scent, ambled back, then sprinted off again, just missing his master’s legs. Dan nodded to another dog owner who smiled understandingly at Rutherford’s antics, then began running laps of the park. A couple of miles would do, to wake him up and give him time to go through the competing thoughts jostling in his mind.
    So Adam’s on-off marriage was off again. It was like a soap opera.
    When they’d first met, in the weeks leading up to Christmas, Adam had been living in a one-bedroom flat away from Annie, his wife and young son Tom. Dan had initially thought it had been the usual story of a man putting his work before his family. Sad but familiar, mundane even. Then Adam had told him about Sarah, how what happened to her had driven him to become a detective and how he couldn’t betray her by giving it up, not even by easing back.
    He’d agreed with Annie to ask his Chief Superintendent for a better ‘work-life balance’, as the police had called it, and for a while it had made a difference. But that was over Christmas when the festive spirit meant there was a lull in the violent and deadly crimes that demanded a Detective Chief Inspector’s attention. He’d spent more time with Annie and Tom and they were edging towards reconciliation. But then there was a murder to deal with, a drugs killing, then a kidnapping, and now this rape.
    Annie knew what a rape case meant. She’d been through it before, knew that she would scarcely see her husband until it was solved. And even when he was there beside her, his mind would be away, exploring the alibis and angles of the investigation. Her patience had stretched and finally snapped. Adam was back in the hated flat again.
    They’d been through it all last night. What should he do? He wanted

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