Chapter Ten
AS HE DROVE AWAY FROM Elmhurst General after seeing the bodies of the two victims, Rafferty told himself the week could surely hold no more anguish. He hadn’t reckoned on The Third Estate’s contribution, but then he had rather counted on the recent outbreak of murderous gang-warfare between rival asylum seekers in Habberstone, four miles to the west, to hold the front page.
So it was a shock, when he rounded the corner into Bacon Lane and saw the latest placards outside the newsagents; the Lonely Hearts murders were at last hitting the headlines. And as he slowed to read some of the names the papers’ editors had decided on for the killer: The Beast; Sicko; Psycho; Butcher—he found himself thanking his Guardian Angel that Nigel was no longer a suspect. He prayed his cousin nev
