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nodded slowly. ‘And Natalie?’
    â€˜Natalie’s death is much more sinister. She was penetrated anally and handcuffed or tied up. She was strangled from behind, so perhaps the killer was the man who had anal sex with her? It sounds very much like rape.’ Megan swallowed. There was a time when she had been unable to say that word without her stomach churning. ‘After all,’ she went on, ‘Natalie was no crackhead. She’d only just started on the game and she was young and pretty enough to be choosy about what she did for punters.’
    Leverton frowned. ‘But the DNA evidence?’
    â€˜I know. It just doesn’t fit. Unless, of course, the man who had vaginal sex with both Donna and Natalie on the day they died was not involved with their deaths – and that’s pushing the limits of credibility a bit far, isn’t it?’
    Leverton sighed and sat back in his chair. ‘The problem for us is this guy’s DNA doesn’t match anything on our database. We picked up one good fingerprint from Natalie’s body but it doesn’t tally with anything we’ve got on file. We’ve got literally nothing to go on.’
    Megan felt uneasy. She wasn’t sure he was being straight with her. She decided to face him. ‘You’re asking me to come up with a profile?’
    Leverton nodded.
    â€˜Why? I mean dead prostitutes aren’t going to get Joe Public howling for retribution.’ She watched him. His eyes immediately flicked down to the desk. ‘Martin, I hope you wouldn’t think of using me in some private battle with one of your colleagues…’
    The sound of him drawing in his breath was almost imperceptible. He looked back at her, eyes unwavering this time.
    â€˜Of course not.’ He paused just long enough to make Megan feel uncomfortable. ‘Will you trust me on this one? I can’t say exactly why I’ve asked for your help. All I can say is that I need a completely independent, unbiased view of what sort of man committed these murders. Will you help me?’
    Megan’s eyes narrowed as he held her gaze. So, she thought, this is all about police corruption. Who’s he after? A cop who murders prostitutes? A cop in a pimp’s pocket?
    She felt a nudge of guilt. Was she completely independent and unbiased? ‘Okay,’ she said slowly. She had no desire to do Leverton favours but the case intrigued her. ‘I’ll see what I can come up with. I’ll give you a call, say, lunchtime tomorrow. Will you be here?’
    â€˜Yes – barring any major incidents.’ He grinned and rolled his eyes. ‘If I’m not in the office, you can get me on the mobile.’ He scribbled a number on the back of a card and handed it to Megan. ‘Thanks – I really appreciate this,’ he said as he led her to the door.
    *   *   *
    Ceri Richardson was wrapping a Christmas present for her husband.
    It was a silk tie. Not very romantic, she thought, as she cut out a rectangle of green and gold paper. It was the sort of present a daughter might give to her father or a mother to her son.
    She thought of the gifts she had given Neil when they had first met. That first Christmas together in a rented flat. She had tried to make it so exciting; a chocolate-box couple young and in love. Except that they weren’t – at least, she wasn’t. She could see that now, although at the time she had managed to fool herself.
    She tore pieces of sellotape with her teeth, sealing the gift in its festive shroud. What should she write on the label? ‘All my love’? What a joke! Perhaps ‘Lots of love’ would do?
    Of course, what she would really like to write was, ‘Hope it throttles you, darling.’

Chapter 3
    When she left the police station Megan took a deliberate detour through Birmingham’s red light district. She knew Donna’s body had been found somewhere