CHAPTER FORTY-THREE
Usually, there would have been witnesses, people of interest, someone stewing in the interrogation room by now, but this was different, and it weighed heavily on Tooms. He turned to the board nearest where he was sitting. He was stirred by a sudden sadness for the victims. Not because of their violent deaths, but because they seemed to lack any sort of attachment in their private lives.
Tooms’s gaze turned to the framed set of photos on his desk. A plain, silver frame held a collage of snapshots of himself and his family. He fondly picked it up and smiled, then looked up at the pictures of the women victims, and his melancholy returned. Tony saw the ex- pression on his partner’s face and walked up to him.
‘What’s up, man?’ Tony could clearly recognise the signs of To
