‘Adele, what are you doing here?’ Matilda asked as she entered the incident room to find Adele and Sian chatting over a coffee.
‘I needed to get out of the office for a while. I’ve had Simon Browes on the phone to me all day.’
‘Why?’
‘Now that your serial case has made the national press, he’s suddenly interested in it. The bloke’s a glory hunter.’
‘I hope he’s not planning on talking to the press.’
‘No, he wouldn’t do that. He’d more likely write a paper on it and make sure he’s mentioned more times than he should be.’
Matilda helped herself to a chunky KitKat from Sian’s drawer. ‘Why would anyone actively seek publicity? I can’t stand it. It’s like the killer, he’s loving the newspapers writing stories about him. There are other ways of getting attention.’
‘Yes. He could audition for Big Brother,’ Sian sniggered. Her phone started ringing. She picked it up and turned away.
‘You think that’s what this is all about then? Attention seeking?’ Adele asked.
‘That’s what narcissistic people do. They want us all to look at them, to see what they’re doing. He’s staging his murders. He’s contacting the press to make sure they get the story.’
‘Welcome to twenty-first century Britain. Everyone’s life is in the public domain nowadays,’ Adele said. ‘Oh, by the way, my burglar’s been caught.’
‘Has he?’
‘Yes. I had a call from a Sergeant Blumenthal who said a bloke had been arrested. He’d admitted a spate of burglaries around the city, including breaking into my house.’
‘Nice to see someone in South Yorkshire Police is capable of solving a crime,’ Matilda said, looking at the faces of four dead people on the murder boards.
‘Oh my God,’ Sian said. ‘Ma’am, I’ve just had Karen Lacey’s sister on the phone. She went round to Karen’s house this morning – she’s hanged herself.’
Matilda drove with Adele in the back and Sian in the front. They had been going for over ten minutes in a heavy silence when Sian shattered it with her revelation about Karen’s secret visit the day before. She filled them both in on who the real killer of Rebecca Branson was and how she and Joe had covered it up for all these years.
‘You should have told me, Sian,’ Matilda said.
‘I was going to come round last night, but you sent that text and we had that meeting and it just went by the by. I’m sorry. I told Karen to go home and be the best mum she could be to her kids. How stupid can you get? Her husband had been murdered because of something she’d done. I should have known this would happen.’
‘Sian, don’t blame yourself,’ Adele said from the back seat. ‘Nobody could have foreseen this.’
‘If you want me to resign, boss, I will,’ Sian said, gazing out of the window. The sun was trying to break through the heavy clouds hanging over Sheffield, but it still looked dark and dreary.
‘Don’t even think about it,’ Matilda warned her.
Matilda pulled up outside the Lacey house. Selina Bridger was waiting for them on the doorstep. Her arms were wrapped tightly around her chest. She was an older version of Karen Lacey, with the same hairstyle and colour, and the same build. Her face had the haunted look of the recently bereaved, just as Karen’s had when Matilda first met her. As soon as Selina saw Matilda and Sian climb out of the car, she hurried towards them.
‘I didn’t know whether to call for an ambulance or not, but I mean, she’s dead, isn’t she?’ Selina waffled.
Sian held her by the shoulders. ‘It’s all right, Selina, calm down. Do you want to go back to your home and we’ll come and see you in a bit?’
‘No. I’m OK. I’ll wait here.’
Matilda and Adele entered the house. It seemed like an age since they were both last here when Joe Lacey was found hanging in the garage. They made their away along the hallway. The house was cold, silent and unlived in. The stale Minion cake was still on the table in the dining room.
Matilda turned to the door leading to the garage and pushed it open. The cold hit her and she shuddered. The darkness surrounded her as she descended the steps, the sound of her shoes echoing around the room.
Adele fumbled for the light switch, eventually flicking it on. Their eyes adjusted. The Audi was still there. The shelves on either side were still stacked with paint tins, boxes of odds and ends that would never come in useful for anything. Children’s bikes were propped up against the wall. And Karen Lacey was hanging from a beam on the ceiling.
‘Jesus,’ Matilda uttered.
Karen was hanging in the exact same position as her husband. The hook drilled into a beam on the ceiling. Karen was lifeless, the noose tight around her neck – thirteen twists in the rope – and there was a white pillowcase pulled over her head.
Adele came down the steps and had a good look at the body. ‘Shit.’
‘What is it?’ Matilda asked.
‘I think you’ll find Karen Lacey was murdered.’
‘What are you talking about?’
‘She didn’t take her own life. This is victim number five.’
Matilda turned to Adele. Horror etched into her face. The nightmare was getting worse.