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‘That’s not a problem.’

‘We also need your fingerprints and I’ll have a forensic officer check your clothes and shoes.’

Nadelson’s face registered alarm. His hands jerked and some of the tea spilled over the rim of the mug on to the table.

‘It’s just routine,’ Temple assured him. ‘For elimination purposes.’

Nadelson put his mug down. His eyes narrowed and his lips pressed tight together.

‘Is there something you’re not telling me, Mr Nadelson?’ Temple asked, puzzled by the man’s reaction. ‘Something that might be
relevant
?’

Nadelson made an effort to compose himself. He straightened his back and sucked nervously on the inside of his bottom lip.

After a beat, he said, ‘No, I’m finding it all a bit overwhelming, that’s all. This is a ghastly experience.’

Temple regarded him for a few seconds and put his reaction down to shock.

‘Are you sure that you don’t want me to arrange for a doctor to drop by?’ he said.

‘I’m sure, Inspector. I’ll be OK. Really.’

Temple finished his tea, thanked Nadelson and walked back along the lane to Mayo’s place. There were no other houses in sight. They were in the heart of the New Forest and therefore it was unlikely that anyone else had seen anything tonight.

He stared up at the cottage, wondering at its history. What dramas had been played out within its thick uneven walls over the years? Was this the first murder? The cottage was the type you see in the tourist brochures aimed at attracting people to the forest. Squat, quaint, picturesque. A cosy retreat from the real world, buried as it was in a corner of this ancient woodland. Not a place where blood should be spilled, Temple thought.

So what had happened here tonight? Who had shattered the
tranquillity
and destroyed the sense of peace?

He sucked the cold air into his throat and gave a shudder. It was at times like this that he wished he hadn’t given up smoking. But six months ago he’d finally heeded the advice of his doctor, who was concerned about the raspy voice he’d developed over the years and the bouts of coughing that were becoming more frequent and
troublesome
.

Angel emerged from the cottage and came striding over, her
knee-length
raincoat billowing like a cape.

‘We’ve got something,’ she said. ‘A shoeprint in the blood on the
kitchen floor. Quite distinctive. Almost certainly male and size nine.’

‘A careless killer,’ Temple said. ‘My favourite kind.’

‘What about Mr Nadelson?’ she asked. ‘Is he a suspect?’

‘Everyone is at this stage, although I can’t in all honesty imagine him killing anyone. Still, he did get flustered when I said we’d need to take his prints. So we should check him out. Get someone to have a longer chat with him and get a statement.’

‘Will do,’ she said. Then, ‘So come on, guv. It’s time you filled me in on Vince Mayo. Why did the lads have a problem with him?’

‘Vince Mayo was not popular among your colleagues,’ Temple said. ‘The same goes for his partner, Cain. And that fact alone is going to ensure that this case will attract a lot of unwanted media attention.’

Angel took out a cigarette and lit up, much to Temple’s annoyance. Staying off the weed was a struggle at the best of times, but it was sheer torture if smoke was being blown in your face.

‘Care to explain, guv?’ she said, sensing that he was drifting into his thoughts.

He took a step back and turned away from her. He looked up at the cottage which was teeming with scene of crime officers. A
flashlight
exploded. A police radio crackled. Somehow it didn’t seem right that this should happen out here in the forest. This was a place that ought to have been immune from the horrors of the outside world.

‘Those two set up a news agency a couple of years ago,’ he said. ‘Before that they worked on the local evening paper, although Cain did spend a few years away from here in London. Anyway, Mayo especially had lots of contacts in the area. He came up with quite a few exclusive stories, a couple of which shed a bad light on the constabulary.

‘One of those stories broke about a year ago. It involved a
detective
inspector named George Banks. A good friend of mine. Worked out of Southampton CID for fifteen years.’

‘The name rings a bell,’ Angel said. ‘I’ve heard the lads mention him.’

Temple took a deep breath through his nose, enjoying the
second-hand
smoke that was caressing the back of his throat.

‘Mayo and Cain got a tip-off that George had gone bad. They were told that he was recycling seized drugs and selling them to his brother-in-law, who is a bit of a lowlife.’

‘Was it true?’

Temple nodded. ‘George has a son named Warren. He was
diagnosed
with a rare form of liver cancer. New drugs that would have helped him were not available on the NHS. So George had to raise the money himself. He found it impossible even though he sold almost everything he owned. As a last resort he helped himself to some of the drugs we confiscated. Like a fool he didn’t think anyone would notice.

‘Anyway, someone got wind of it and tipped off Mayo and Cain. They went to work on the story. They called George for a quote and he pleaded with them not to sell it. He called me and I went to see them in the hope of talking them out of it. I explained the situation. George only did it once and the amount of drugs was relatively small. I said I would see to it that George was dealt with. But because of the extenuating circumstances I was hoping to keep it low key and avoid a prosecution. I appealed to Cain and Mayo to drop the story.’

‘But they didn’t,’ Angel said.

Temple shook his head. ‘They gave me the usual bullshit about it being in the public interest and police corruption was an epidemic that had to be curtailed. Mayo was more aggressive than Cain, who I think might have been persuaded. But in the end it went ahead.’

‘And I take it the story destroyed George Banks’s career?’

‘That’s right,’ Temple said. ‘We were forced to suspend him and he was facing charges. But before it got to court he topped himself.’

‘My God.’

‘It’s why we virtually blacklisted those two reporters. Technically they’d exposed a corrupt police officer and had done nothing wrong. But that’s not how his colleagues saw it. There’s been a lot of
ill-feeling
. Still is. Some of the guys have always felt they had a score to settle.’

‘What happened to the son?’

‘Warren is OK for the moment,’ Temple said. ‘He’s nine now and responding to the new treatment. A fund was set up after George’s death. A lot of money was raised and then three months ago the NHS agreed to supply the drug free of charge.’

They both fell silent. Temple tried to remember the last time he had dropped in on George’s widow, Beth. Surely he was due to pay another visit.

‘Sounds to me like maybe Danny Cain is a good starting point for this investigation,’ Angel said. ‘What do you think, guv?’

‘I think you’re right,’ Temple said. ‘I know where he lives. We’ll leave DC Patel in charge here and go right over. But before we do there’s something else you ought to know about this case.’

Angel tilted her head to one side and arched her brow.

‘It concerns our boss,’ Temple said. ‘Superintendent Priest.’

‘I
’m scared,’ Laura said. ‘I want Daddy.’

Maggie Cain pulled her daughter close to her with her free hand. Her little face was red from crying. Her eyes were dull and unfocused.

‘Daddy will find us soon, sweetheart. Everything will be all right.’ Saliva cracked at the back of Maggie’s throat as she spoke.

‘But why does that man want to hurt us?’ Laura said.

‘I don’t know, sweetheart, but I swear I won’t let him harm you. Trust me on that.’

‘Max says the man is going to kill us.’

Maggie was suddenly furious with Max, which of course was absurd since he was a figment of her child’s imagination.

‘Max doesn’t know what he’s talking about. I suggest you tell him
to be quiet. Or maybe you can get him to tell you a story. Take your mind off what’s happening.’

‘He didn’t bring any of his books. He forgot them when he chased out of the house after us.’

‘Then why don’t you tell
him
a story? He’s probably as scared as you are and that will cheer him up.’

Laura started whispering, which was her way of communicating with her imaginary friend. That’s good, Maggie thought. It’ll focus her mind on something other than the terrifying reality of their situation.

Maggie chewed her bottom lip and rested her head against the wall behind her. They were sitting on the floor of a freezing loft, or attic, or whatever it was called. One ring of a pair of metal handcuffs was attached to Maggie’s left wrist and the other ring to a short length of chain that encircled a wooden stanchion.

The loft was large and gloomy and there were lots of timber supports. Between them spiders had woven dozens of webs. It hadn’t been fully converted. There was a makeshift floor of chipboard sections that had been nailed on to the joists, although they didn’t cover the whole area. There were gaps where the insulation obscured the top of the ceiling below. Light welled softly from a naked bulb suspended from above. The walls were bare brick and there was a noisy water tank in one corner.

Their own loft at home was filled with junk. Cardboard boxes, spare pillows, old photo albums. But this space was empty.

Maggie closed her eyes and prayed that the nightmare would soon be over and that no harm would come to them. But she was scared. Desperately scared.

If only she hadn’t opened the door. But then how was she to know that it would prove to be the biggest mistake she had ever made? She just wasn’t thinking. The prospect of sharing in a massive lottery win had unsettled her.

After the man in the balaclava had taken Maggie’s phone he called Danny. And as she listened to what he said to her husband it became clear to her that Vince was dead and that this man was a cruel, sadistic killer.

After the call he forced her upstairs to wake Laura. Her daughter
was naturally terrified and clung desperately to her mother as she got out of bed. The man allowed them both to dress. Before leaving the house he wrapped a scarf around Maggie’s head to cover her eyes. He led them outside and into the boot of a car.

They were in the car for almost an hour. They stopped several times. The third time she heard him get out of the car. Then she heard glass breaking near by. This was followed by a long silence. After another twenty minutes or so they were allowed out of the boot. He didn’t make her put the scarf back over her eyes. It was too dark to see much anyway other than a large house partly surrounded by trees. The man was still wearing the ski mask and was also carrying a rucksack on his back.

‘That way,’ he said. ‘Go.’

They walked across a gravel driveway to the front door. Inside, the house felt empty and cold.

The man led them up some stairs to a short, dingy landing. Bare floorboards. Yellowing wallpaper. Muted lighting from an old-
fashioned
wall lamp.

An aluminium loft ladder had been lowered from the ceiling hatch. He ordered them to climb it, Maggie first.

‘There’s a light up there,’ he said. ‘And some blankets.’

‘You’re going to leave us here?’

‘You’ll be all right. I won’t let you starve to death.’

‘What about my husband?’

‘He’ll be joining you later.’

After securing her to the stanchion, he took a second set of cuffs and a chain from his rucksack and attached them to a joist. He used a key from a bunch to lock the cuffs.

‘That’s for your husband,’ he said. ‘I won’t bother to restrain your daughter, but I suggest you keep her close to you. It’s dangerous to walk around up here.’

Then he left without saying another word, closing the hatch behind him.

Now Maggie opened her eyes and looked down at Laura’s head. She ran her fingers through her curls in the hope that it would provide some comfort to her daughter.

Then she mouthed another silent prayer.

Please don’t let him hurt her. Please save us from this madman.

She told herself she had to remain positive. It wasn’t easy, though, especially when her mind turned to Vince and she wondered how and why he had been killed.

And what about Danny? He’d be frantic with worry and she feared he might ignore the kidnapper’s warning and go to the police. And if he did, what then? Would the man in the mask be true to his word and kill them?

Just then the hatch was raised and the ladder was lowered. Then the man appeared as a dark, hooded figure framed by the light from the hall below.

Maggie wanted to scream but she didn’t dare. And besides, she very much doubted that anyone would hear her. Instead, she straightened her back and stuck out her chin. She also tightened her grip on Laura. She wouldn’t give in to the bastard without a fight. She’d scratch, gouge, bite and do whatever else it took to protect her daughter.

But her determination to resist did nothing to diminish the strength of the fear that gripped her body: a fear borne out of the simple truth that they were completely at his mercy.

‘Your bastard husband has fucked up,’ the man said, his voice jagged, harsh. ‘You heard me warn him not to involve the police. I told him what would happen. Well they’re now crawling all over Vince Mayo’s cottage.’

Maggie’s heart leapt into her mouth. She felt a rush of blood cascade through her veins.

‘Please don’t do anything to us,’ she pleaded. ‘I beg you.’

She shifted position and put the cuffed arm around Laura. Then clenched her free hand into a fist and held her breath. This is it, she thought. Be ready. Go for the eyes or the throat. At least make sure you hurt this maniac before he can hurt you.

‘I need to find out what that idiot has told them,’ he said. ‘And I want you to remind him what’s at stake here. Understand?’

The man stepped towards them and she saw that he was holding a mobile phone.
Her
mobile phone.