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.Reilly gave a deep sigh – she was unsure how to feel.They now knew for sure that were dealing with the same killer, one with a Dante fixation.They also had a better sense of the perp’s motive – he was a vigilante, someone who had been failed by the system and was dishing out his own form of justice in his own unique way.And clearly his chosen victims had somehow helped bring about this injustice.The light mark she’d noticed on the ex-cop’s jacket deserved further investigation, but that could well turn out to be nothing.She felt deep frustration.The killer was, as Kennedy had observed, a tease – a clever, motivated, meticulous tease.She glanced across at the detectives.Their faces seemed to be registering the same emotions as her own.‘Thoughts?’Kennedy scowled.‘He’s a clever little fucker.’‘Let’s include that in our next press conference, why don’t we?’ Chris said drily.‘Might as well – nothing else we’re doing is getting us any closer to finding him.’ Kennedy stood up and stomped over to the far side of the room where the coffee pot stood steaming.‘He holds all the cards, doesn’t he?’ He poured himself a cup and looked over at the others.‘You lot want any?’Both Chris and Reilly nodded, and Kennedy kept talking while he poured.‘So he tells us it’s all about justice – well, we’d kind of figured out that much.He tells us there are two more to come – but how do we know who they are, or how to stop him?’‘I hate to say it,’ Chris admitted, ‘but Knight is right.Until this guy fucks up, we’re still just pissing in the wind.’Kennedy scowled.‘And from where I’m standing, the wind is blowing straight towards us.’Chapter 28By the time Reilly got home it was after eight, and she felt exhausted – worn out but at the same time wired too.She warmed some leftover pasta in the microwave, found a half-bottle of wine in the fridge, then collapsed in front of the TV to chill out.Some time after midnight she woke up to find the half-eaten bowl of pasta had slipped off her lap and spread itself across her couch.The TV was muttering away to itself.Reilly shivered – the heat had been off for a couple of hours, and the room was now bitterly cold.She scooped the leftover pasta back into the bowl with the spoon – cleaning the couch would have to wait until tomorrow – then headed straight for bed.She slipped off her skirt then burrowed deep under the covers, still wearing her blouse.Trying not to shiver, she curled herself up in a fetal position and wrapped the covers all the way up around her neck, cocooning herself in a deep layer of goose down and Italian linen.Little by little she began to warm up, and was able to start to relax her muscles.But though she was tired – exhausted, even – sleep refused to come.Her nap on the couch had done just enough to take the edge off of her tiredness, and now sleep was as difficult to catch as a butterfly on a summer’s day.Every time she started to relax, her thoughts turned back to the investigation.The arrival of the video footage had given them a brief moment of optimism, but in the end it had produced more questions than answers.Was the barn they could see in the background the same one where they had found Fitzpatrick, or was there another location – the region where the samples of horse feed and cooking sauce had come from? And, more pertinently, who were the next two victims? And where and when would the killer strike next?Reilly had sent the disk on to the tech guys to analyze the footage itself, and to focus in on the dust mark she’d spotted, but she didn’t expect much; the killer was skilled at covering his tracks, and giving them nothing.In fact, the only thing they had so far that she suspected he didn’t mean to give them was the orange pencil, which dovetailed with Reuben’s suggestion that he was an artist, sketching each individual scene for his own enjoyment.Was that something to follow up on? And if so, how? All they knew about the guy was that he most likely worked or lived in an area frequented by horses, could have a taste for spicy food and liked to sketch.Her thoughts then shifted to last night’s conversation with Chris, and his surprising revelation about his ex.He obviously still held a candle for Melanie too, and her forthcoming wedding was clearly the reason for his recent short temper.Reilly was also somewhat taken aback by how much the idea bothered her.She lay in the darkness, unsure what to think.She and Chris had some kind of.connection, she was pretty sure about that; she just couldn’t tell if it was solely down to what had happened earlier this year, and the closeness they shared throughout that investigation, or was it something more, something deeper?One thing for sure was that she trusted him, felt safe around him.And as she’d learned last night, there was so much more going on behind the calm, easygoing façade he presented to the world.Now Reilly wanted to find out much more, wanted to know exactly what made Chris Delaney tick, besides work, of course.She smiled, thinking about Pete Kennedy and his beloved Josie.She didn’t think she was made for quite that kind of domestic bliss, but maybe a piece of something similar might be good?It would definitely be nice to have someone to share things with, someone to have breakfast with in one of those nice little cafés down by the canal at weekends, or a stroll through St Stephen’s Green on a sunny afternoon.Someone who understood the demands of the job, but could help her forget about them too.Reilly rolled over, feeling annoyed at herself for even going there.Who was she kidding? In this job, there was barely time for sleep, let alone play
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