Deadly Focus by R. C. Bridgestock

produce. It consisted of a written summary of what had occurred, accompanied by photographs and a DVD. He would use these props to set the scene. A document averaging some twenty pages in length would be copied for each member of the review team and cover all aspects of the enquiry. After the presentation, the review team would take their copies away and, alongside the murder team, would sift and search through what had been done and consider what else could be done, if anything, to aid the investigation. Dylan would wait for the comments and ideas. He never thought of feedback as negative; he didn’t care who came up with an idea as long as it helped to catch the killer.
    An assistant chief constable, a chief superintendent and an SIO, along with another four officers with specialist knowledge, would be on the review team. The positive side of this was that for a short time at least, an ACC would take an interest in the murder. The chief superintendent would probably just be getting a tick in a box for the next round of promotions. They didn’t experience the demands of a murder enquiry.
    It was a few days to Christmas, but he wasn’t in the mood for celebration. He knew he was being totally unfair to Jen. She loved Christmas; decorating the tree, the smell of pine cones, the shopping, wrapping the presents, writing out the cards. She loved just about everything that surrounded it. For the first time she wasn’t going home to the Isle of Wight to be with her parents, and that was because of him. She’d made her first Christmas cake, and the mince pies. Dylan wanted to make it special for her. It’s not that he didn’t enjoy Christmas, but this year, if Daisy’s murderer wasn’t detected, he knew he wouldn’t relax. His conscience wouldn’t let him.
     
    Dr Francis Boscombe, the offender profiler, worked for the Home Office and had travelled up from London on the train. He was a clean-shaven, balding, plump man in his fifties, about five feet ten inches tall and dressed in baggy cord trousers, a blue shirt and a dark brown battered tweed jacket that was obviously comfortable to wear. He listened intently to what Dylan and Dawn told him and visited the scene with them. He pored over the mortuary photographs, made notes at the scene, and studied the limited background information. He now knew as much as the officers on the case. In his opinion, the offender was male, possibly a local, and had a good knowledge of the area. He considered him an opportunist. He thought it possible that this type of murderer would take away items as trophies. It was also clear to him that the killer had displayed Daisy’s body. By not hiding her, it was obvious that the killer wanted her found.
    ‘What’s he trying to tell us?’ he said to himself out loud, obviously puzzled. ‘He certainly wanted her seen.’ This concerned him. ‘Just my first impressions, Dylan, you understand. I can’t be sure this is a one-off. He could kill again. Only time will tell, I’m afraid. Please keep me updated; any little occurrence could change everything and I might be able to help you further. It’s a strange one, this,’ he said, scratching his cheek with his weather-worn hand. He had stated some obvious things to the officers but he had also re-confirmed Dylan’s own views. ‘The murderer appears to have been methodical and organised in his approach, an orderly person. Now I’ve a train to catch.’
    Dylan answered his mobile as he and Dawn watched Boscombe’s train leave the station.
    ‘Boss, Janice. The Hinds have received a Christmas card. It says in capital letters, “HAVE A GOOD ONE”, but inside is something like a small piece of flesh wrapped in clingfilm. It’s possibly Daisy’s fingertip. I can just make out what seems to be a finger-nail.’
    ‘Bloody hell, how gruesome’s that? Look we’re on our way. I want SOCO there as soon as possible,’ he said as he looked at a puzzled Dawn.
    ‘Consider it done,