the middle-aged officer sitting next to him as they sipped their tea. Connie Bryant was a motherly looking woman, slightly overweight with thick corn-coloured hair. Solly had taken to her immediately, realising she was well suited to her job; those large blue eyes held an expression of sympathy that was more friendly than pitying.
‘You came to see us afterwards,’ Robin Kilpatrick acknowledged, giving a stiff nod in the family liaison officer’s direction. Mrs Kilpatrick said nothing, her eyes cast down to her cup and saucer.
She’s still in denial, Solly thought. But was it denial of her daughter’s death or of the way she had lived? A discreet look around the room had shown no evidence of any family photographs, though Solly knew from the records that the couple still had another daughter.
‘What I am actually here for,’ Solly began, laying the cup back gently on its saucer, ‘is to ask you about Carol.’
‘Already told the police everything we know, which is nothing,’ Mr Kilpatrick said brusquely. ‘We had a daughter. She chose a … a … ’ he frowned, as though struggling for a word, ‘a route that was alien to us. We don’t have anything to do with people like that,’ he added, as though the entire matter was closed to further discussion.
‘Sadly my own profession sometimes takes me into the worlds of many different souls,’ Solly told him quietly. ‘I see things that I would hate any of my loved ones to see. So I do understand what pain you must have experienced, and not just when Carol died.’
‘Do we have to go through this all again?’ Robin Kilpatrick demanded.
‘I wish I could spare you,’ Solly said, ‘but it is not just Carol’s death that is being investigated.’
‘Oh?’ The man’s head went up and Solly could see that he was suddenly curious in the way that most humans are when other people’s tragedies impinge upon their own.
‘Another girl was attacked in the same place where your daughter met her death.’
‘So? It could have been a coincidence, couldn’t it?’ Kilpatrick blustered.
‘This girl was one of Carol’s friends,’ Solly continued, his eyes never leaving the man’s face. ‘And I have to tell you that the method used by the killer was identical to that used on your daughter,’ he added.
‘Another street girl?’ the father asked, his face twisted into a mask of disgust. ‘Why should we care about her?’
‘Because some evil bastard is out there and we want to catch him before he sends another unfortunate victim to her death!’
All three of them turned to stare at Connie Bryant, whose mild manners suddenly seemed to have deserted her.
‘You’re not the only parents who have lost a child to heroin, you know,’ she continued heatedly. ‘There are hundreds like you all over this city and every city in the country. We try to stem the tide but it’s not easy,’ she went on. ‘So many young girls are lost to their families and friends then turn in desperation to selling their bodies on the streets for the price of a fix.’ She paused for breath, cheeks flushed. Then her voice dropped and her tone became gentler and more persuasive. ‘The police have done a sterling job of cleaning up the streets, protecting the girls as best they can, but until we have help from people like you two then we’re not going to change the public’s perception of prostitution.’
There was silence in the room but Solly still felt the woman’s words reverberate in the air around them. Robin Kilpatrick was staring at Connie Bryant, his lips parted as though to speak, but it was his wife who spoke first.
‘How can we help?’ Mrs Kilpatrick said, raising her head at last.
‘Tell us about Carol,’ Solly told her gently. ‘What she was like as a girl, why you think she went off the rails. What contact you had with her after she left home.’ He paused then stared into space, wagging his dark beard thoughtfully. ‘That would be particularly helpful to begin with.’
‘Carol left home when she was sixteen,’ Mrs Kilpatrick said, her lip suddenly trembling. ‘We had no contact with her after that.’
Solly frowned. ‘Did Carol leave home because she had an addiction to heroin at that time?’ he asked. Sixteen? It seemed so young to be leaving her family. A quick memory flicked into his brain of himself at that age, steeped in his school exams, home and family a secure and loving support. How different Carol Kilpatrick’s experience had been!
‘Why?’