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he had to do was get the body from his vehicle to the dump site itself, and under cover of darkness, using that reasonable means of transport, he'd be fairly safe. But here, he's out in the open the moment he puts the body into that derelict car. And he didn't just dump it there, Superintendent. It only looks dumped. But make no mistake. He arranged it. And he was confident he wouldn't be caught at his work."

"Cocky bastard," Havers muttered.

"Yes. He's proud of what he's been able to accomplish. I expect he's somewhere nearby even now, watching all the activity he's managed to provoke and enjoying every bit of it."

"What d'you make of the missing incision? The fact that he didn't mark the forehead. Can we conclude he's backing off now?"

Robson shook his head. "I expect the missing incision merely means that, for him, this killing was different to the others."

"Different in what way?"

"Superintendent Lynley?" It was Hogarth, who'd been supervising the transfer of the body from the car to the trolley. He'd stopped the action prior to the body bag being zipped round the corpse. "You might want a look at this."

They went back to him. He was gesturing to the boy's midsection. There, what had been obscured before by the body's slumped position in the seat was visible now that it was stretched on the trolley. While the incision from sternum to navel had indeed not been made on this most recent victim, the navel itself had been removed. Their killer had taken another souvenir.

That he'd done so after death was evident in the lack of blood from the wound. That he'd done so in anger-or possibly in haste-was evident in the slash across the stomach. Deep and uneven, it provided access to the navel, which a pair of secateurs or scissors had then removed.

"Souvenir," Lynley said.

"Psychopath," Robson added. "I suggest you post surveillance at all the previous crime scenes, Superintendent. He's likely to return to any one of them."

CHAPTER EIGHT

FU WAS CAREFUL WITH THE RELIQUARY. HE CARRIED IT before Him like a priest with a chalice and set it down on a tabletop. Gently, He removed the lid. A vaguely putrescent odour wafted upward, but He found that the smell did not bother Him nearly as much as it had done at first. The scent of decay would fade soon enough. But the achievement would be there forever.

He looked down upon the relics, satisfied. There were two of them now, nestling like shells in a rain cloud. With the slightest of shakes, the cloud subsumed them, and that was the beauty of where He'd placed them. The relics were gone, but still they were there, like something hidden within the altar of a church. In fact, the activity of reverently moving the reliquary from one place to another was indeed just like being in a church, but without the social restrictions that churchgoing always placed upon members of the congregation.

You'll sit up straight. You'll stop the fidgeting. D'you need a lesson in how to behave? When you're told to kneel, you do it, boy. Put your palms together. God damn it. Pray.

Fu blinked. The voice. At once distant and present, telling him a maggot had slunk into his head. In through His ear and onward to His brain. He'd been less than careful, and the thought of church had given it entry at last. A snicker initially. Then an outright laugh. Then the echo of pray, pray and pray.

And, Finally looking for a job, are you? Where d'you expect to find one, stupid git? And you get out of the way, Charlene, or do you want some of this for yourself?

It was yammer and yammer. It was shout and shout. It sometimes went on for hours at a time. He'd thought He'd finally rid Himself of the worm, but thinking of church had been His mistake.

I want you out of this house, you hear? Sleep in a doorway if that's what it takes. Or don't you have the bottle for that?

You drove her there, blast you. You did her in.

Fu squeezed His eyes shut. He reached out blindly. His hands found an object, and His fingers felt buttons. He pushed them indiscriminately until sound roared forth.

He found Himself staring at the television set, where a picture came into focus as the voice of the maggot faded away. It took Him a moment to understand what He was looking at: The morning news was assaulting His

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