Savage Moon

'Thanks for sticking around, Mum.'

'No problem. I've done some cleaning up.'

'Is Alice in the front room?'

'She is.'

'How does she seem to you?'

'Grand. A bit confused to find me here though.'

'And Holly?'

'The little poppet's fine.'

'Are you staying? I should be home soon.'

'Well.' She sounded uncomfortable. 'Your dad's expecting me back. I've put on another casserole for you two. I don't want to get in the way.'

'I know, Mum. But I'm worried about Alice. Does she really seem fine?'

'Absolutely. Jon… this is very awkward.'

He nodded, suddenly aware of the position he was putting her in. 'Sorry. You head off then. I shouldn't be long.'

He kept the receiver to his ear despite the fact his mum had hung up. Could Alice have turned a corner? OK, the object of her enthusiasm wasn't exactly healthy, but at least she was sounding happier in herself. Yes. Perhaps she just needed something to occupy her mind. He replaced the phone, trying to ignore the part of him that was totally unconvinced.

'Everything OK?' Rick asked from the next desk.

'That was Alice. She sounds like her old self. Well, not totally. But miles better.'

'Really?'

'Yeah.' He shook his head. To think it occurred to him that she and Holly could have been in danger. He glanced at Rick, wondering whether to ask if his sister had ever considered harming herself, but it wasn't the right time or place. And besides, asking the question implied he was concerned Alice might — and that was ridiculous. 'She's been out with Holly in town. You could hear the energy in her voice.'

Rick looked relieved. 'Fingers crossed then.'

For the next hour and a half they typed up reports for the indexer, their bursts of conversation eventually broken as the doors opened. A couple of officers entered the room with the first items recovered from the scene of Trevor Kerrigan's death. A large plastic evidence sack with his golf bag and clubs inside was propped in the corner, followed by the files from the boot of his car. Another handed the indexer a bag containing his keys, mobile phone and wallet. Jon turned back to his computer, thinking of the team that would be in Kerrigan's house questioning the wife about his enemies.

A couple of officers had sauntered over, eager to see what had been left behind at the scene of the latest murder. Jon heard plastic cracking as one lifted the golf bag up for closer inspection.

'Callaway, Terra Firma. Very posh. What did this guy do for a living?'

'Moneylender apparently,' someone else replied. 'Could it have any more pockets?'

The other officer laughed. 'This is top notch. Look, an insulated pocket for your drinks.'

'Nice touch. What's that scratched in the leather?'

'Where? Oh yes. Kuri… kuriri. . what does it say?'

In his mind's eye, Jon suddenly saw the word. It was scrawled on a notice board, nestled amongst other signatures. There were trees behind it and through them, the shine of water. Was it Crime Lake? The car park where Derek Peterson was found? He stood up and said loudly, 'Kuririkana.'

Rick's hands were frozen above his keyboard. 'The word on the bottom of Danny Gordon's suicide note.'

Everyone turned to look at them. Jon pointed to the officers with the golf bag. 'Is that what it says?'

One leaned down. 'It does.'

He began to click his fingers. 'That's not the only place I've seen it. Crime Lake. I think I spotted it there.'

'Crime Lake? Whereabouts?' Rick asked.

'I'm not absolutely sure. It's just an image that flashed in my head, but it could have been on the notice board in the car park where Peterson was found.'

'It's the killer. It has to be. Why leave evidence like that at each crime scene?'

'He's making a point, telling us something. And it's so important to him, he doesn't care if it gets him caught.' As he grabbed his jacket he saw Rick getting up too. 'Don't worry mate, I may be wrong. There could be fuck-all there. You finish up your report, it's best you're here when Summerby comes downstairs to hold the briefing.'

'You sure?'

'Yeah, I'll ring you if I find anything.'

Rush hour traffic was beginning to build on the M60 and Jon resorted to the siren a couple of times to shift cars out of the way. By the time he reached Crime Lake, dusk was beginning to fall. Jon found his eyes dragged towards the distant moors, mere shadows in the rapidly gathering gloom.

As he pulled into the car park, he looked around. He always found it slightly unsettling to return to a murder scene and find everything normal once again. It seemed like the violent death of a person should have some permanent effect on the surrounding area. But what? A withering of the undergrowth, a gnarling of the trees, a crumbling of the earth itself? He knew it was absurd. By that logic, the whole country would be dotted with barren patches. Once in France, he and Alice had made a detour to the Somme. The pleasant rolling fields were almost disappointing. Only the silence let you imagine the carnage that had once occurred.

He put the headlights on full and the notice board at the top of the car park shone bright in the beams.

Crime Lake. No Motorbikes.

Already certain the word would be there, he opened the car door and got out, leaving the engine running. The edges of the notice board were covered by a mass of signatures. Wozza. Ruhul. Amie and Jade. Ashif. He worked his way through them quickly, and spotted the word he was looking for in the top left hand corner: Kuririkana.

What did it mean, he asked himself, stepping out of the headlight's glare. Remember. Remember what? The word had now been found at the site of a suicide and two murders. His head turned and he looked towards where he knew the moors lay. What was the betting it was somewhere up there, in the vicinity of where Rose Sutton's body had been found?

He pictured the murder scene, the bare peat earth, stunted gorse and scattering of giant rocks. The rocks. If it was anywhere, it would be scratched or written on them.

His mobile rang, causing him to jump. Nikki's name on the screen. 'Hi there. Still in court?'

'No, you're in luck. The defence had something new, so the judge adjourned it until tomorrow. I'm back at the office. These hairs you sent over aren't human.'

'No, I swiped them from the panther enclosure at Buxton

Zoo.'

'And you want me to compare their DNA with the samples on the system.'

'Yes please. But — and you're going to kill me for this — can you put the test on hold? Something else has cropped up.'

'What?'

'Any chance of you coming over here with that special light you use for picking out stains and other stuff?'

'The Portascope. Why?'

'I need to recheck where Rose Sutton was killed. I think we missed some evidence. A word, written somewhere near where her body was found.'

'You want me to go tramping round on those moors now? Jon, I can't see out of my window any more. You know why that is? It's dark.'

'Right. Which is the best time to use that light.'

'You're serious, aren't you?'

'You don't have to come with me. I just want to borrow it.'

'Good. Because aside from that animal, who knows how many madmen with rifles are prowling around up there.'

'So you can bring it over?'

She sighed. 'Give me the directions.'

Thirty-One

When her BMW Mini pulled into the car park Jon was sitting in his vehicle, the ordnance survey map for the Dark Peak spread out across the steering wheel and dashboard. The interior light of his car was weak, causing him to squint as he studied the faint lines on the paper.

Holding a hand out of the open door, he waved a greeting to Nikki and sat back. She parked alongside him and climbed out, pausing at the boot to remove an aluminium carry case. 'I can't believe you dragged me out here,' she announced, placing the case on the tarmac.