Suzanne looked at the ceiling. ‘I’d have to ask Stretton to twist some arms, try to get it done overnight.’

‘And in the meantime, we hold Hammond. If the DNA matches Rose, if the children’s home can’t give us a good reason why he was there, then we can search his property. But if we go in now, tear his place apart without even knowing who those knickers belong to, we’ll all be famous. The dumbest police since the Keystone Kops. With you, Winkler, as the dumbest of them all.’

Chapter 46

Day 14 – Patrick

Patrick loitered outside Suzanne’s office for a moment, watching Winkler stomp off towards the custody suite. Usually, it would give him great pleasure to piss Winkler off, but Patrick wasn’t feeling joyful right now, just satisfied that they had bought a little time. He needed to talk to Carmella. Because while they waited for the DNA results, there was another line of inquiry he was desperate to follow.

Carmella wasn’t at her desk, so he headed towards the canteen, hoping he would find her there again. As he turned into the corridor that led to the canteen, he saw Gareth Batey walking towards him.

Gareth stopped in his tracks when he saw Patrick.

‘Gareth.’

‘Boss.’

‘A word, please.’ He gestured towards an empty meeting room and the detective sergeant followed him inside.

Before Patrick could speak, Gareth said, ‘I need to report back to Winkler.’

‘Your new best mate.’

Gareth’s face as usual turned a shade of pastel pink. He was clearly having to work hard to maintain eye contact. ‘I need to report back to him. I’ve just been to—’

‘St Mary’s Children’s Home. Yes, I know. I’m leading this investigation, remember? And I’ve just been interviewing Mervyn Hammond. Tell me what you found out.’

Gareth hesitated. ‘But . . . Winkler told me to speak to him first. I mean, it was him and me who saw Hammond go in that place. Me and Winkler who’ve been tailing him. Adrian said you’d step in and try to take all the credit as soon as we got our man.’ Gareth’s eyes glinted in the artificial light, damp from the emotion it took to give this speech.

‘For fuck’s sake. Can’t you see? Winkler’s using you.’

‘No! He’s the only one who recognises my potential. You treat me like the canine unit treat their dogs. Loyal, useful but dumb.’

Patrick took a step back, shocked at the turn this conversation had taken. Gareth was visibly shaking now and Patrick was reminded of an argument with Gill, when she accused him of being uncaring, of taking her for granted. At home, he always admitted that Gill had a point. But here? What had he done to make the young DS feel like this? He tried to think back, was going to suggest that they arrange a meeting to talk about it – a necessary evil of being a manager, a higher rank, the kind of touchy-feely stuff he instinctively shied away from – when Gareth said, ‘Winkler’s a better detective than you.’

A flash of anger propelled Patrick towards the younger man, until their faces were just inches apart.

‘Say that again.’

‘You heard me.’

Patrick pulled himself up to his full height. But what happened next surprised him. Instead of reaching boiling point, the anger in his veins drained away as he realised how ridiculous this was. It wasn’t really like an argument with Gill; it was like being at school.

Patrick walked away and sat down, inviting Gareth to do the same.

Gareth stared at him, breathing hard, nostrils flaring.

‘Come on, Gareth, take a seat.’

To Patrick’s relief, the other man did as he was asked. He sat stiffly, his back straight, but he appeared to be calming down.

‘We can talk about this later, OK? When emotions aren’t running so high.’

Gareth nodded reluctantly. Now he appeared embarrassed.

‘Tell me what happened at the children’s home. What did they say about Mervyn Hammond’s visit?’

‘Nothing.’

‘Come on, Gareth . . .’

‘No, I mean they wouldn’t say anything. The manager refused to talk about it, and the staff were obviously hiding from me. All the kids were at school, so I couldn’t talk to them.’

‘Really? That’s very . . .’

‘Suspicious.’ Gareth had relaxed a little now, his body less rigid. ‘What have they got to hide?’

Before he could reply, Patrick saw Carmella walk past the room. He stood up.

‘All right. Let’s arrange a meeting, just you and me. I’ll talk to you later. I need to talk to Carmella.’

‘OK. Boss.’

‘Good man.’

Patrick hurried out of the room, calling to Carmella. As he hurried up to her, Gareth came out of the room and walked off in the opposite direction.

‘What’s up with your man?’ Carmella asked.

‘Gareth?’

‘Yeah. He looks like you just told him you don’t want to go out with him anymore.’

Patrick sighed. ‘Come on, I’ll update you on the way to the car.’

‘Where are we going?’

‘What would you say if I told you we’re going to talk to someone about erotically charged teenage fantasies involving boy-band members . . . and vampires?’

‘That I want a transfer?’

He smiled. ‘Come on.’

StoryPad’s British office was based in a converted warehouse close to Silicon Roundabout, where many of the UK’s Internet start-ups are based. Mervyn Hammond’s office wasn’t far from here, nor was Global Sounds Music. This investigation had drawn Patrick close to a world of glamour he’d once dreamed of living in. But now he’d seen what it was really like, he half-hoped the next murder investigation would start somewhere at the other end of the glamour spectrum, like the Kennedy Estate or an old folks’ home.

Patrick filled Carmella in on what he’d learned from Chelsea Fox, that she believed Jess and Rose had collaborated on a piece of fiction on StoryPad.

‘It’s the only link between them that we’ve been able to establish so far – assuming Chelsea isn’t mistaken.’

‘But there’s no connection to Nancy Marr through StoryPad?’

‘Hmm. I don’t think she’s quite their target market. But I spoke to one of Strong’s team who confirmed that StoryPad was in Wendy’s browser history, that she’d been looking at it in the days before she was killed.’

Carmella was checking out the website on her phone as Patrick drove. ‘I remember Martin mentioning it in one of the briefings, but, apart from that, I’ve never heard of it.’

‘Nor had I. But it’s incredibly popular among teenagers, especially girls. According to the “about” page on StoryPad, they’ve got over thirty million users, and there are something like ninety million stories on there. It’s pretty straightforward, really. Users can post pieces, either short stories or whole novels, which are divided up into chapters, and other users can read and comment on them. I guess the users compete to get as many reads as possible because then they get ranked higher, which leads to more reads. It’s like a big popularity contest. Plus, of course, it gives these girls an outlet for their creativity.’

‘I used to write poems, but I never wanted anyone to read them,’ Carmella said. ‘Ugh – cringe.’

‘Same with me and lyrics.’

‘Really? Were they any good?’

‘No, they were shit. But this is the Instagram generation, isn’t it? They share everything and they all want to be famous.’

‘You’re sounding like a grumpy old man again.’

They reached their destination and pulled up in a courtyard outside the old warehouse. ‘It goes without saying,’ Patrick said, ‘that the most popular category on the site is fan fiction, and stories featuring OnTarget make up about fifty per cent of that. I looked through some of it last night. My God, some of it is almost pornographic. They call it “shipping”, short for “relationshipping”, and imagine these . . . trysts between members of the band.’