As expected, the restaurant was in one of the swanky new developments along the Thames, with a fabulous view of St Pauls. Rob was already there, having a lager at the bar.

‘Jaq,’ he said, grinning widely as he came over and gave her a hug and a kiss, ‘it’s great to see you again.’

This type of greeting wasn’t her favourite, but it seemed to be Rob’s standard, as he’s also given Sarah a hug and kiss when they’d all gone out together.

‘How are you?’ Jaq asked, stepping back out of reach.

‘Great, great, you’re looking well, at least, you look like you’ve got more sleep lately.’

‘That I have,’ Jaq said, hoping Rob didn’t ask why she’d been working so hard it impacted her sleep.

‘Shall we eat?’ Rob asked as the maitre’d had appeared looking relaxed but ready.

‘We may as well,’ Jaq said, taking in the high ceilings, modern smoky glass chandeliers and full-length windows with the superb London view. This was going to be a very expensive meal.

‘I’m more than happy to treat you,’ Rob murmured as they threaded their way between the tables.

‘There’s no need,’ Jaq said, and waited for the waiter to pull out her chair for her.

Rob settled opposite and said, ‘What is it that you do exactly? You’ve never told me. You’re clearly very busy with whatever it is.’

Jaq had been expecting the question. People in London rarely went straight for the what do you do question. But after a couple of dates, it would be weird not to mention what she did.

Since she was about to draw a line with Rob, she didn’t want to tell him now, because he’d tell everyone he worked with, too. She picked up the menu and looked over the opulent offerings, with the expected matching prices. Rob waited for a second, then also picked up the menu with a resigned shrug.

Jaq decided on the steak with red wine jus, creamy celeriac mash and summer beans, which she relayed to the waiter. Rob ordered the lobster, which Jaq felt was just him showing off, and an expensive bottle of red wine. The colour may have been for her benefit, but she doubted it.

Jaq handed the menu to the waiter and said nothing until he’d left before she turned back to Rob.

‘Would you keep it a secret if I told you what I did?’

Rob looked up from the menu in astonishment.

‘Why? Are you a spy or something? Would you have to kill me if I told anybody?’

‘It’s nothing that dramatic,’ Jaq said, shaking her head. A spy would probably get a more positive response. ‘I’m in the police force.’

Rob blinked at her, and she could see the cogs turning. People had weird ideas about the police. Some were fans, others were immediately negative. It always imposed a strain on the conversation.

‘So…’ Rob said, still digesting the information, ‘when you say you’re in the police force, what does that mean exactly? Are you a uniformed officer, keeping our streets safe?’

He made it sound jokey, but there was a familiar edge of nerves to it. He was probably doing a mental check of unpaid fines and other possible misdemeanours.

‘I’m a Detective Inspector,’ Jaq said with a straight face to make sure he got the gravity of her job and that she wasn’t joking around. ‘Serious Crimes.’

‘Wow,’ Rob said. ‘Okay, I surrender. You can put the cuffs on me.’

It was an all too familiar response. Some men immediately went for the handcuffs, bondage thing. Rob looked undecided.

‘This is why I don’t tell people.’

‘But you have to eventually, right?’

‘I suppose so, but I’d appreciate if you don’t spread the news around the office. There are security reason as well for keeping quiet about my job.’

‘My lips are sealed,’ Rob said. ‘I assume Sarah knows what you do.’

‘Yeah, she does. She knew from before I even went to police college that this was the career I wanted to pursue.’

Rob nodded and leaned back for the waiter to put the food down in front of him. The size of the lobster, and the beautiful way it had been arrayed on a bed of salad greens, impressed Jaq. Her steak arrived, already sliced and the small portion size she’d expected.

‘Does Simon know?’ Rob asked.

‘Know what?’ Jaq asked, momentarily thrown.

‘That you’re a detective.’

Jaq contemplated lying for only a second.

‘He knows.’

‘So you told him before you told me, but we both met you on that same day at the pub, didn’t we?’

‘It just worked out that way,’ Jaq said as she sliced one of her slivers of beef in half, dipped it in the thin gravy and popped it into her mouth.

It was delicious and she was determined to enjoy it despite the trickiness of the conversation. She supposed being a detective had hardened her to this kind of confrontation.

‘And you hung out with him at the art show, too.’

So she had been spotted. That was a shame.

‘He rescued me from a particularly obnoxious pair of corporates.’

Jaq wondered whether she’d have gone looking for Simon if he hadn’t appeared before her. She was undecided.

‘And then? Have you been trying to date him too?’

‘This isn’t about Simon. This is about what I think of you and what I think our relationship is. And I have to say, I think it’s run its course. I’ve had fun, but I can’t see it turning into anything deeper.’

Rob paused halfway through cracking open a lobster’s claw and stared at her.

‘Are you dumping me?’

‘Honestly, Rob, I don’t even think we’ve been properly dating up till now.’

‘Is that your analytical detective’s opinion?’

‘It’s just how I feel. You’re a fun guy to go out with, but it’s no more than that for me. I’m sorry.’

‘You won’t get anywhere with Simon, you know? I’ve stopped counting the number of women who’ve had a go at him and failed. That whole unobtainable guy thing seems to act like a magnet for women.’

‘That’s vaguely insulting,’ Jaq said, as she took a sip of wine. ‘But if you must know, I’m not chasing after him, either. I went to the art show to meet men and just happened to run into Simon.’

‘So you’re aiming for somebody who earns even more, is that it?’

‘More money wouldn’t hurt, but that’s not my main driver.’

‘What is?’

‘Somebody compatible, somebody I really, really like.’

‘And that’s not me?’

‘Not at the moment.’

‘Huh!’ Rob said and speared a piece of lobster quite savagely. ‘That’s a shame. I thought we had some chemistry.’

Jaq nodded. Rob was so self-confident he probably assumed everyone loved him.

***

Jaq never enjoyed breaking up with people, be it ever so civilised. At least Rob had got over his disappointment pretty quickly and they’d finished the meal on reasonable terms. Jaq had agreed this would be for the best, as they’d probably continue to see each other through Sarah and Aaron.

Now Jaq was curled up on her little sofa, in her tiny flat, gazing at the chintzy rose wall paper that she’d been meaning to paint over for the last decade, a soothing glass of wine in one hand, her laptop balanced on her knees.

Rob’s comments about chasing the unobtainable had really irritated her. She wasn’t chasing Simon, although she wasn’t so sure that he was impossible to snag. Difficult, certainly, but she had one advantage. She knew about his past. It was the kind of past people kept buried but would probably always nag at the back of his mind as something he was keeping from others.

Just being the son of a notorious serial killer was bad enough. Being a part of his crimes was even worse. So now Jaq simply had to know exactly what part Simon played in everything. That would help her decide whether she stopped what was ultimately not a great career move, or carried on.

She’d remained friends with some men she’d dated. She might become friends with Simon. He seemed not to have any friends at all and might resist, but if she worked carefully and respected his boundaries, maybe they could at least have that.

Jaq took a deep sip of wine to fortify herself and typed her password into the police database. A twinge of guilt made her hesitate before she called up Simon’s files. Then she decided that he’d never tell her everything, because the telling would probably be too painful. So she pressed return and a whole host of documents unpacked itself from the file marked Adrian Black aka Simon White.

The first thing Jaq looked at was the arrest record. It was there she discovered that Simon had been fourteen when he’d been discovered. Which was the most appropriate word for breaking through his locked bedroom door. It turned out Simon’s birth had never been recorded and prior to going in the police had no idea he was even in the house.

Subsequent investigation had never discovered the name or whereabouts of his mother. She may have been a victim of Gregory Black’s, or simply a short-lived relationship. There was no record of a marriage either, and Black had taken the secret of who the woman was to his grave. Simon, according to the records, had no memory of any women living in the house, let alone his mother.

DNA tests had confirmed that Simon was indeed Black’s son. Jaq wondered how that must have felt. A part of Simon surely hoped that he shared nothing with such a monster.

Jaq flicked through photos of Simon’s bedroom. The furniture was plain and had the look of something that was bought in the seventies and never updated. The carpet was a dirty orange. A simple wooden single bed jutted out into the middle of the room. Aside from that was a wardrobe, a child sized desk piled high with scattered papers and a matching wooden chair. The small bedroom window was barred and looked across the narrow side passage of the house onto the neighbour’s garden fence.

So far, so ordinary, if old-fashioned. But what Jaq had temporarily blocked out were the walls. They were covered to about two-thirds of the way up with black scrawls that made the room oppressive.

Jaq flicked through the picture files to all the closeups of the wall. There were thousands. Many were just staring eyes and gaping mouths, black blobs of scratching out so deep it had scraped through the wallpaper and the plasterboard beneath. As she got to the images higher up the wall, there was more detail, presumably because Simon was older, and his drawing technique had improved. Here were grotesque images of women being strangled, tongues lolling out, eyes starting, arms flung wide, a man leering over them, sometimes clothed, sometimes naked. Sometimes there was what looked like a boy in the corner, curled up in a ball, hands over his head, glowing cigarettes also appeared a lot, being pressed into skin, both of the women and the boy, smoke and swirling lines, scratching out, and monstrous razor-sharp teeth.