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‘You’re not going to like it, Inspector,’ Crawley said.

‘Oh?’

Crawley read out one of the paragraphs that Mayo had written. The words sent a fast ripple through Temple’s body and raised a whole new question about what the hell was going on.

D
aylight filtered through the cracks along the eaves but the new day did not bring new hope for Maggie Cain. She was cold and terrified. Her soiled jeans had started to smell and the air in the loft had become thicker and more claustrophobic.

Danny and Laura were both sleeping, entwined in each other’s arms under the blankets. Maggie had been watching her husband for the past half-hour. His face was a mess, with bruises and cuts and dried blood across his cheeks and forehead.

He’d told her what had happened to him, what he had done to the
two youths. She’d listened with a strong sense of pride and
admiration
. But his words and appearance had increased her own sense of self-loathing.

At least if they died here in the loft Danny would never have to know about her betrayal.

The affair with Vince had been an escape from what she had come to regard as a dull, monotonous life. The passion had gone out of her marriage over a period. The catalyst was the realization that family life was not all it was cracked up to be. She’d embraced it with
enthusiasm
at the start and made a firm decision not to go back to work until Laura was at secondary school. She wanted to devote all her time to her daughter. She wanted to be the perfect mother.

And at first that’s how it was. She enjoyed the whole baby thing, even the nappies and constant vomiting. But as Laura grew up so did the demands on Maggie’s time and patience. But that was all right because Danny was bringing in a terrific salary and they had an affluent lifestyle. When Laura was at school she could go shopping or visit the gym. They had lots of expensive holidays and weekends away.

But then everything changed when Danny lost his job. Only ten of the editorial staff were made redundant and her hapless husband had to be one of them. It was grossly unfair.

She began to see things then in a new light. The total, unhealthy dependence she had on her husband. The lack of her own identity. The fact that they were suddenly struggling to make ends meet. She would have to go back to work, but for the wrong reason. Not because she wanted to but because she had to. She became bored, resentful, frustrated.

Vince had always had a crush on her, since the day she went to work in the ad department at the
Post
. But it was Danny, the bright, dynamic reporter, who had asked her out first.

For years Vince remained on the scene, though. He was the office flirt, flitting from one relationship to another, and in a way Maggie had envied his free spirit and devil-may-care attitude to life.

After she left the
Post
to become a full-time housewife and mother she continued to see him through Danny. He came to the house and
they would go out as a foursome when he had a girl in tow. Usually there was more than one girl on the scene, since Vince liked to play the field and had a voracious sexual appetite.

But they probably wouldn’t have got together if Danny had gone along to the staff reunion at the
Post
just over five months ago. He didn’t go because he was feeling poorly that day and stayed at home to look after Laura. He insisted that she should go and asked Vince to take care of her.

That was how trusting he was. It would never have occurred to him that two of the people he loved most in the world would betray him.

After checking with his current girlfriend, Jennifer Priest, that it was all right, Vince took her to the party. He was the perfect companion. He fetched her drinks and danced with her. He told her she looked beautiful and that if she hadn’t married Danny he would have snapped her up. It was the drink talking, of course, but
nonetheless
she was flattered.

The evening was drawing to a close when the banter and flirting turned into something far more dangerous. The last dance. A slow one. Vince held her close. She felt his erection against her stomach, his warm breath on her neck. And then he nibbled her earlobe. She closed her eyes and felt her pulse race. He ran his tongue over her cheek, whispered the words that changed her world.

‘For years I’ve yearned to get this close to you, Maggie. You turn me on more than any woman I have ever known. Danny is a lucky man.’

Vince didn’t take her straight home that night. Instead, the taxi dropped them at his cottage where they made love. It was intense and rushed, but it lit a fire inside her that she couldn’t put out.

From then on they got together whenever they had the chance. It was a purely physical thing. Passion with a capital P. They were able to keep their emotions in check because neither of them wanted it to go beyond that. What they had was lust and not love. For both of them the affair satisfied a need. Maggie suddenly felt alive again. The aspects of her life that had been bringing her down no longer seemed so important, although she was careful not to let Danny know how she felt.

Vince was a distraction. He made her feel good about herself in a way that her husband no longer did. She liked the excitement, the danger. She liked the uncomplicated, uninhibited sex.

Vince, God rest his soul, was selfish and shallow. Even though he professed to love Danny like a brother, he was prepared to risk their friendship by sleeping with his wife. His offer to share his lottery win with Danny was almost certainly to assuage his own guilt.

Maggie thought back to their last face to face conversation. She had met him in town and over coffee they talked about his belief that he – or possibly they – were being stalked. And it wasn’t without some justification. Two sightings of a mystery man in a sheepskin coat was perhaps more than a coincidence.

Maggie agreed that they shouldn’t see each other for a while, but she couldn’t help wondering whether Vince was using it as an excuse to extract himself from the affair. She had been expecting it, actually. Vince had become preoccupied with his personal problems. His debts were mounting and Jennifer was putting pressure on him because she wanted to move in to the cottage.

Now, of course, his problems were no more and Maggie was in no position even to grieve for him. As for her own perceived needs and wants prior to this nightmare, well they just seemed pathetic now. She longed instead to return to the life she’d had. The life she had put at risk.

‘What are you thinking?’

Danny’s voice startled her. Her eyes had drifted away from him and she didn’t realize that he was awake.

‘I’m thinking that I don’t want to die,’ she said.

Danny raised himself on one elbow, carefully so as not to wake Laura.

Maggie was desperate for him to reassure her, to tell her that they would survive this ordeal. But he just stared at her, his bloodshot eyes heavy with sadness.

For the briefest moment she thought that he was reading her mind and seeing what she had done. But then his chest heaved with emotion and he said, ‘We don’t know for certain that he’s going to kill us. He said he would let us go.’

‘We both know he’s lying,’ Maggie said. ‘He can’t let us go.’

Danny winced as he pushed himself to a sitting position. He looked down at Laura and stroked her hair. Then, turning back to Maggie, he said, ‘We can’t give up without a fight.’

Maggie held up her cuffed hand and rattled the chain it was attached to.

‘But what can we do, Danny?’

She started to cry and Danny reached over and pulled her close to him.

‘We have to find a way out before he comes back,’ she said. ‘There must be something we can do.’

He squeezed her harder. She felt his blood and sweat and tears. She also felt his unconditional love for her. A love she didn’t deserve.

‘We’ll find a way,’ he said, his voice breaking. ‘We just have to keep thinking.’

T
emple tapped his fist against the open door of the super’s office. Priest was sitting behind his desk speaking into the phone. He waved Temple in as he continued the conversation.

‘I agree this is a serious allegation against DS Jordan,’ Priest said into the mouthpiece. ‘At this stage we have no idea whether it has any bearing on the murder investigation. We’re having trouble contacting the officer.’

Temple sat down on one of the chairs facing Priest. He was tired and sweaty. He rubbed both his cheeks, fingers scraping over a thick layer of stubble.

Priest, he knew, was briefing his superiors at Hampshire police headquarters on the latest development which had taken them all by surprise.

Detective Sergeant Ian Jordan was with the vice squad, which occupied an office in another part of the building. Temple knew him, but not well. He had been transferred from Portsmouth a year ago and was regarded as an arrogant shit, with a loud mouth and a short temper. By all accounts the Pompey lot were glad to get shot of him. It was why Temple had never made an effort to get to know him.

But now he had a reason to because, according to Vince Mayo, Ian Jordan was a bent copper. The article Mayo had been writing about Joe Dessler contained the blistering allegation that Dessler was paying Jordan a monthly retainer. In return for the cash Jordan was steering the vice squad away from Dessler’s activities and tipping him off if trouble was brewing. There were other allegations – among them that Dessler was running at least two illegal brothels in Southampton and that he was also blackmailing a city counsellor who had been a regular client.

Mayo claimed he had proof, including an email from the
councillor
and statements from several prostitutes who had fallen out with Dessler for one reason or another. If it was all true then Dessler could potentially go down for a long time, which was apparently Mayo’s objective in exposing him.

But it was the claim about DS Jordan that most concerned Temple and Priest. Another bent copper exposed by the same journalist who exposed George Banks. It couldn’t be worse. If the allegations were to be proved it would be a major embarrassment. It would look as though they were presiding over a police department filled to the core with rotten apples.

‘What’s the latest on Jordan?’ Priest asked when he was off the phone.

‘He’s not at home and he’s not answering his phone,’ Temple said. ‘He’s single and because he keeps to himself we don’t know much about his private life except that he’s a keen angler.’

‘Have we come across this so-called evidence yet?’ Priest asked. ‘This email or the statements from the prostitutes?’

‘Not yet, sir. We’re still wading through his computer notes and files.’

Priest rubbed his eyes with his fingertips. ‘Jordan will have to be suspended while we investigate the allegations. Meanwhile, I want his work station seized and his phone records checked. I also want Dessler questioned about this.’

‘Dessler is due for another visit anyway, sir. I’m waiting to hear whether his alibi checks out.’

Priest heaved a sigh. ‘This is all we fucking need on top of everything else. It’s going to reflect badly on the rest of us.’

‘I realize that, sir.’

‘Is there any way we can contain it?’

‘We can try,’ Temple said. ‘But I honestly think it’s unlikely. In fact I guarantee it’s already been leaked. It won’t be long before we hear from the media.’

‘This is one big mess,’ Priest said. ‘I mean, look where it leaves us with the investigation. We have Danny Cain in the frame for killing his partner and the evidence stacking up against him is pretty strong. And yet there’s all this business involving Dessler and the mystery man stalking Mayo. Plus one of our own fucking detectives has now been added to the mix.’

Temple was about to respond when the office door was pulled open and Angel appeared clutching a sheet of A4 paper.

‘I think you both need to see this straight away,’ she said, as she crossed the room and placed the paper on the desk.

‘The artist just arrived back from your daughter’s flat,’ she said to Priest. ‘That’s an impression of the man she saw watching Mayo’s cottage.’

Temple stood up and stepped around the desk to look at the drawing over Priest’s shoulder.

‘If I’m not mistaken it bears an uncanny resemblance to someone we all know,’ Angel said.

Temple saw it immediately and gave a sharp intake of breath.

‘My God, it looks like Jordan.’

‘I don’t believe it,’ Priest said. ‘It can’t be him.’

‘Well, your daughter reckons it’s a good likeness,’ Angel said. ‘Shaved head, protruding ears. And I know for a fact that he often wears a sheepskin coat.’

Priest went red in the face. ‘This is totally fucking ridiculous. Why would one of my own detectives spy on Mayo’s cottage?’

‘Could he have been on official business?’ Angel asked.

‘Absolutely not. I would have known.’

‘Then I’d like to take a photo of Jordan to your daughter right now,’ Temple said. ‘Get a more positive identification.’

‘I’ll come with you,’ Priest said. ‘It’s time I told her about Vince and Maggie Cain.’

‘T
hat’s definitely him,’ Jennifer said when Temple handed her a photograph of DS Jordan half an hour later. ‘He’s the man who was watching the cottage.’

Temple felt a thud deep in his chest. ‘You’re sure about that?’

‘If I wasn’t I’d say so, Inspector. But I watched him for long enough to remember the face. It made me nervous at the time and I recall trying to describe him to Vince.’

‘And did Mr Mayo have any idea who he might be?’

‘He said he wasn’t sure, but he might well have been lying about that.’

‘Why’d you say that?’

‘Because he hesitated when he said it. It just made me wonder, that’s all.’

‘We’ve identified him from the description you gave us,’ Priest told his daughter. ‘His name is Ian Jordan. He’s a police officer. I’m his boss.’

Her eyes glinted in surprise. ‘The police were watching us?’

‘He wasn’t there officially, Jen.’

‘Then why? I don’t understand.’

‘Neither do we, but I can tell you that there’s a link between him and Joe Dessler.’

‘What kind of link?’

‘It’s possible Jordan was accepting money from Dessler in return for certain favours,’ Priest said. ‘So maybe Vince did indeed
recognize
him.’

Jennifer sat back in her chair and stared into her lap. She was still wearing her robe and it looked as though she’d been crying again. The flesh around her eyes was swollen and there was a pile of bunched-up tissues on the floor in front of her chair.

‘There’s something you need to know, Jen,’ Priest said.

She raised her eyes to her father and in them Temple saw that she was drowning in a sea of emotion.

‘There’s no easy way to say this,’ Priest said. ‘And I really wish I didn’t have to.’

Her brow creased. Her bottom lip quivered.

‘What is it, Dad? What’s wrong?’

Priest swallowed. ‘Vince was having an affair.’

Jennifer’s features froze. Her body went rigid.

After a moment she started shaking her head.

‘Why are you saying that?’

‘Because I’m afraid it’s the truth,’ he said. ‘He’d been seeing Maggie Cain. We know because we’ve got voice and text messages that were exchanged between them.’

‘Vince wouldn’t have done that,’ she said. ‘I know because he was in love with me.’

Her father sat on the sofa and put his arm around her.

‘I wish it weren’t true, Jen,’ he said. ‘But it is.’

She stared at him for a few heartbeats, hurt and confused. ‘How long had it been going on?’

‘We’re not sure,’ he said, ‘but we think it started months ago.’

She continued to stare at him, tears spilling on to her cheeks, her skin turning a shade lighter.

‘Did you have any idea that something was going on between them?’ Temple asked.

She looked at him as though offended by the question. ‘Of course not. Why would I?’

‘Were you friendly with Mrs Cain?’

‘I’ve only met her a couple of times. She seemed nice enough. Vince didn’t talk about her, but he was fond of the family, especially Danny. It doesn’t make sense that he should do something like this to both of us.’

‘These things happen, Miss Priest.’

‘But not to me,’ she snapped. ‘We were good together. Why would he go with another woman? An older woman at that.’

‘I can appreciate how you feel.’

‘I doubt that, Inspector. Not unless you’ve had it done to you. Right now I feel as though my heart has been ripped out of my body.’

Temple said nothing. He let her words hang in the air. He could see that her mind was churning with questions that might never be answered.

Outside an ambulance siren grew piercingly shrill, then fell silent.

‘So what does the bitch have to say for herself?’ Jennifer said suddenly.

The anger was to be expected. Her lips stretched back across her teeth and her eyes blazed.

‘If you’re referring to Mrs Cain, well, we still don’t know where she is,’ Temple said. ‘We’re trying to trace her and her husband.’

She scowled, her voice was strident. ‘With any luck the bitch will turn up dead like Vince.’

It was an awful thing to say but Temple understood where it came from. This girl had just had all her hopes and dreams trampled into the ground. It was no wonder she was filled with a primal rage.

Her father went to make a pot of tea and Temple asked some more questions. But Jennifer found it increasingly difficult to answer them. This latest blow had compounded her grief and she was struggling to cope.

Temple had a brief conversation in the kitchen with Priest, then left the flat to drive back to the nick. He checked on progress and was told there was still no sign of Danny Cain and his family.

More CCTV footage had turned up showing Cain’s BMW crashing through a red light at about 10 p.m. on Saturday evening. This was on the main road out of the New Forest and even on the grainy tape you could see that he was alone in the car. His wife and
daughter were not with him. The footage strengthened the case against the journalist, showing that having killed his partner he had fled the scene in a mighty panic with blood on his shoes.

Temple decided he had to get some sleep. He was struggling to focus now and his thoughts were fogging up. By the time he arrived at his small semi on the outskirts of the city his head was spinning and his eyes were heavy. The place still didn’t feel like home. He’d bought it a year after selling the house he’d shared with Erin, but he was already wishing that he hadn’t. At the time he’d thought it was what he needed to do. The constant reminders of Erin and their life together had been torturing him and stopping him from moving on. But now he missed them and at the same time he knew that he hadn’t really moved on at all. At least, not inside his head. He made himself a coffee and carried it up to the bedroom. He undressed quickly and checked the time. It was coming up to midday. He put the alarm on for 3 p.m. and climbed between the sheets.

He was asleep in minutes, but it was a fitful sleep, plagued by an all too vivid dream. But this time it did not feature George Banks dangling from an electric cable.

In this one he watched as Danny Cain battered his wife and daughter to death with an iron bar.