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clean. The more they learned about her boyfriend, Edward Berries, the more he seemed a strange fit for her: a low-level dealer and addict by some accounts; a general waste of space by many others. No criminal record, but hardly a catch. They certainly seemed an incongruous couple. But then, Edmonds was also known to consort with Charlie Drake - Choc to his friends - and Drake was a far more dangerous proposition on every level. Apparently they'd met while organising club nights when Edmonds had been a teenager. These days, Choc was known to run a large portion of the city's cannabis trade, practically single-handedly.
    It was an ungodly mixture, and it meant that Berries needed to be found quickly, not least for his own protection. After what he'd done to the girl, of course, most police probably wouldn't sleep too badly if someone got hold of him first. Many would even feel he deserved whatever was coming to him. Currie wavered on that one, but if his son's death had taught him anything it was that you didn't abandon people. No man left behind. Whatever you might think of him. Especially when someone like Drake was involved.
    'So where are we up to on that?' he said.
    'There was a disturbance reported earlier this morning on Campdown Road: a guy was pulled out of a squat and bundled into the boot of a car. The description matches that of our friend Eddie.'
    'Small, ugly and worthless?'
    'That's almost word for word. And the address looks right for his place on Campdown.'
    Idiot doesn't know when to lay low, Currie thought. But then, they were all like that, weren't they? A self-destructive spiral wasn't the most obvious place for someone to start acting clever.
    Currie chewed the gum thoughtfully.
    'What about the bundlers?'
    'They were black.'
    'That's a start. Car?'
    'Also black. Four wheels. You know the area. Nobody wants to talk.'
    Currie grunted. There were certain people's business in the city that you didn't want to get involved in, and everyone knew it. Drake was somewhere near the top of that list.
    'Nothing doing for now,' Swann said. 'Not round there.'
    'We'll see.'
    'We will. But we have bigger things to deal with now.'
    Currie looked down at the dead girl again, her head turned slightly to one side. On one level, he didn't like what his partner's words implied. Priorities. The idea that Berries didn't matter; that they could simply let him go in favour of someone more important. But at the same time, he knew Swann was right. Somewhere in the city, Alison Wilcox's killer was moving on. Someone else would be lying there soon. Waiting. Forgotten.
    Suddenly, Currie felt very weary.
    Swann said, 'Head back and talk to Roger Ellis?'
    'Yeah.' He sighed. 'Let's do that.'

Chapter Three
    Sunday 7th August
    Tori had explained she suffered from manic depression the first week we were together.
    We'd been out that evening at the travelling fairground that parked on the moor once a year, and we'd spent the evening breathing hot-dog fumes in the freezing air, sticking candyfloss to our faces and leaning into each other on the waltzers, traffic lights and fruit-machine noise whirling around us. Later, back at my flat, Tori had been sitting cross-legged on my bed, rolling a joint on a magazine balanced over her slim thighs. The whole time she told me about her illness, she stared intently at the construction, not looking up once.
    She'd been sectioned twice before, but thankfully not for a few years. Nevertheless, it remained a condition she lived with every day, and if I was going to be involved with her, I had to know what it could mean. Even though she took both medication and great care - she said, with a wry smile at the joint - it could still affect her at any point in the future. When she was finished she looked up at me, and I didn't see the faintest trace of self-pity. This is who I am.
    Despite her expression, I think that deep down she worried how I would react: that I might not want to be with her anymore, and that