Perfect Silence. Helen Fields

Do you have a recent photo of Lorna we could use, and details of the clothes she was wearing when she left here?’

      ‘I’ll go and sort that out for you now,’ Jenkins said. ‘Give me a few minutes.’

      Ava waited until he’d closed the door. ‘So that’s not just one but two crimes linked to the drug users in the city. Who’s to say whether or not Zoey had come into contact with some of the same people. The news will have spread around the city’s drug community by now that Mikey Parsons’ face was slashed. The small-time dealers who sometimes help when we need it won’t be talking to the police. If Lorna’s disappearance really is related to her previous drug use, there are hundreds of undesirables she might have crossed paths with.’

      ‘Selina said Mikey’s injury was atrocious,’ Callanach said. ‘Sharp blade, steady hand, clear intent. You think there’s an anti-drug vigilante on the prowl?’

      ‘I think we need a greater police presence on the streets until we get to the bottom of it. Lively described the Z on Mikey’s face as something akin to a branding. I’m not quite sure what the shape cut out of Zoey’s stomach is supposed to represent, but it may well have been born of the same sick imagination. It’s all close-up blade work. Then there’s the fact that Zoey’s body was found the same day that Mikey’s face was cut. I’m not sure which is worse – thinking there’s one person out there capable of causing this much chaos alone, or the idea that perhaps there’s more than one psychopath out to maim and kill,’ Ava said. ‘I’ll need to speak with Overbeck when we get back to the station. She won’t want to agree the budget, but I can’t see a choice. This needs to be a cross-division effort. The Major Investigation Team can follow the leads, but we can’t be out there stopping all these incidents at once. Let’s get Lorna’s details then organise a briefing. We need to find that girl in the next twenty-four hours or baby Tansy might never be reunited with her mother.’ Ava stood up and ran her hand down the soft, pale blanket in the pram. Its silky edge had been tucked in at the bottom to keep tiny toes warm. ‘It’s true about that baby smell. I always thought it was a ridiculous myth, but something makes me think of freshly baked bread and Christmas morning when I hold a small baby.’ She untucked the blanket and held it up to her face, breathing in deeply and smiling into the fleecy material.

      ‘I remember when the first of my close friends became a father,’ Luc said. ‘We all thought he was ruining his life, but the look on his face when he brought the baby to visit …’

      ‘What the fuck?’ Ava took half a step back from the pram, then leaned over it to look inside again. ‘What is that?’

      Luc peered over Ava’s shoulder at a scrunched-up sheet that had been left in the bottom of the pram. The head of a doll peeked out, with strands of brown hair stuck roughly on, eyes drawn with pen onto the pale grey face, and a series of darting black stitches in an arc, as if her mouth had been sewn shut. Reaching into his jacket pocket, Luc took out a pack containing gloves and reached in to gently extract the doll from the pram.

      ‘You don’t think …’ he said.

      ‘Yes,’ Ava replied, stepping away from the pram and pulling out her phone. ‘I do think. Have you ever seen anything made from human skin before?’

      ‘We can’t be sure of that,’ Luc said, holding the doll well away from his own body.

      ‘Its hair is the same colour as Zoey’s,’ Ava said. ‘And the doll is fractionally smaller than the cuts to Zoey’s body, even to the naked eye, which would account for the margin needed to stitch it.’

      Luc turned it over. The doll had been created by stitching two matching cut-out shapes together. A rag doll with crude arms and legs, no detail, no clothes fitted over it. The seams had been sewn with rough thread, the stitches pulling at the red-tinged seams.

      Ava called for backup and a forensics team. Arnold Jenkins opened the door and stared at them. ‘Stay there, Mr Jenkins,’ Ava said. ‘No one who has handled this pram since it was brought in leaves the unit. In fact, no one leaves at all until every person residing and working here has been spoken to by a police officer.’

      Jenkins blanched. ‘Has Lorna been found?’ he stuttered. ‘Is she dead?’

      ‘Do you recognise this?’ Callanach held up the doll. Jenkins wrinkled his face in disgust and shook his head. ‘Lorna hasn’t been found yet, but we do need to bring in a Scenes of Crime team to ensure that any evidence contained within the pram is preserved.’

      Jenkins shut the door once more, his footsteps rapid as he disappeared up the corridor. Ava sat down, still clutching the baby blanket.

      ‘This means that whoever took Zoey has Lorna,’ Ava said. ‘It was one week from Zoey’s disappearance to her death. Lorna’s abductor is a few hours ahead of us now. If we don’t find her …’

      ‘I know,’ Luc said. ‘What do you think the relevance of the doll is?’

      ‘Something to love? Something to play with? It might be sexual, or even a sort of reverse trophy that the killer is presenting to us, rather than keeping for himself,’ Ava suggested.

      ‘You said him. I’m not necessarily disagreeing with you, but we don’t know that yet,’ Luc said.

      ‘It’s the most likely scenario. The victims are both young women. Men are statistically more likely to use cutting as a form of torture. I don’t know, maybe he can’t find a partner who’ll give him a baby so he’s creating his own quasi-offspring from their skin. God, that even sounds insane to me.’

      ‘We’ve dealt with insane situations before,’ Luc said.

      ‘I’ve never seen a doll made from skin cut from the body of a young woman who was still alive when it happened,’ Ava said, her voice less than steady. ‘And I’ve never been more certain that the same is going to happen to another young woman who is already beyond our help.’

      ‘The dolls are a calling card, then. An announcement of intent. Zoey’s killer wants us to know what’s in store for Lorna.’

      Sirens followed by a knock at the door signalled the arrival of the SOCOs, who appeared white-suited and ready for action.

      ‘I need a bag straight away,’ Ava said. ‘This doll and the pram need to be logged into evidence, then I’m taking the doll directly over to the mortuary. Somebody contact the pathologist and tell him we’re on our way. I need him there, and I’ll need access to Zoey Cole’s body at the same time.’

      ‘What about that?’ One of the officers motioned towards the baby blanket that Ava had in her hand.

      ‘Yes, this too,’ Ava said. ‘The pram needs a complete DNA, skin cell and foreign fibres check. Someone put their hand down inside the blanket and sheet, and tucked the doll out of sight at the baby’s feet. We only found it by accident.’

      Ava’s hands were stripped with sticky tape to make sure she hadn’t removed any crucial trace evidence from the pram, then she and Luc left the room. They found Arnold Jenkins, the unit director, in an office with four female staff members. He introduced each in turn – a nurse, an administrator, a catering manager and one of the other residents. Each had handled the pram at some point, moving it or lifting the baby, and every one of them was tearful and shaken. Ava was glad they had no idea quite how bad the situation really was. Uniformed officers took over to record statements as Ava and Luc headed back towards the car park.

      ‘You don’t need to come to the mortuary with me,’ Luc said. ‘I can handle this alone.’

      ‘I know,’ Ava said. ‘But I feel like I owe it to Zoey. We’re taking part of her back. I know it sounds stupid, but I want to be there with her when we take this monstrosity in.’

      ‘I understand,’ Luc said. ‘Sometimes it’s personal.’

      ‘It is,’ Ava nodded. ‘I can’t even explain why. Dr Spurr, the temporary pathologist – you dealt with him before. Is he good? I mean as good as Ailsa, because