CHAPTER 3
NEW SCOTLAND YARD, WESTMINSTER, LONDON
Miriam Walker, a forty-nine-year-old psychologist with a string of qualifications to her name, greeted Jacob Vance with genuine warmth. Her somewhat frumpy middle-aged appearance, comfortable tweed skirt under a hand-knitted cardigan, flat shoes that looked like they had been rescued from a charity shop and mousy hair pinned back in a bun, combined to mislead anyone who did not know her. Concealed under the aspect prevailed a sharp mind and an empathic personality.
“Well met, Detective Inspector. With so much going on, it seems like a lifetime ago that we last worked together, it must be eighteen months at a guess.”
Vance smiled. Long gone were the early days of suspicion towards external interference when the very word profiler set his
