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found Alison, and they were nowhere. Two weeks of banging their heads against a wal , and getting nothing but headaches.
    Concern, or what passed for it, crept into Keable's
    voice. 'Cases like this, it's completely understandable...' 'Don't be sil y, Frank.'
    Keable leaned forward quickly. In charge. 'I'm not insensitive to... moods, Tom. This case has a taste to it. It's not in the run of things. Even I can sense it.'
    Thorne laughed. Old col eagues. 'Even you, Frank?'
    'I mean it, Tom.'
    'Calvert is ancient history.'
    'I hope so. I need you focused - and focused is not fixated.'
    Keable wasn't sure but he thought that Thorne nodded. He continued as if the exchange had never happened.
    'I think we'l make a case if we get him. We should be able to match up the note to the typewriter for a start.'
    Keable sighed and nodded. The old-fashioned typewriter was a bit of luck, a lot easier to identify than a laser printer, but stil , they needed a suspect first. He'd been in the same position plenty of times. It was hard to sound enthusiastic about evidence which was only of any use when someone was in custody. The procedure had to be fol owed, but at the end of the day they had to catch him first. Keable knew that
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    procedure was his strong point. He was a good facilitator. It was this self-awareness that had al owed him to leapfrog other officers, Thorne included. It also ensured that those officers didn't resent it. He recognised the talents of others and the lack of them in himself. He was a forger of team spirit. He was wel liked. He helped where he could and left the job at the office at the end of the day. He slept wel and had a happy marriage - unlike other officers. Thorne included. 'He'l make a mistake, Tom. When we get a hit on a drugs theft we can start narrowing things down a bit.'
    Thorne leaned in close to the tan. 'I'd like to get over to Queen Square, if that's okay. It's been a while and I'd like to see how Alison's doing.'
    Keable nodded. This hadn't been his most successful attempt at one-on-one morale-building but, then, he hadn't expected a backslapping gagfest from Tom Thorne. He cleared his throat as Thorne stood up, walked to the door and then turned.
    'That note was spodess, Frank. It was the shortest forensic report I've ever seen. And he doesn't wash the bodies in a ritualistic way. I-Ie's just very, very careful.'
    Keable turned the fan back on himself. He was unsure exactly what Thorne expected him to say. 'I'd been wondering whether we should get the boys to chip in for some flowers or something. I mean, I thought about it but...' Thorne nodded.
    'Yes, sir, I know. It hardly seems worth it.'
    'These are real y lovely. It was a very nice thought.' Anne Coburn finished arranging the flowers and closed the blinds in Alison's room. The sun was streaming in through the window, causing the girl's face to flush a little.
    36 MARK BILLINGHAM
    'I meant to come in sooner, but...'
    She nodded, understanding. 'You could have written a note to say congratulations, though.'

    Thorne looked down at Alison and immediately understood. It was difficult to notice one less machine amid the confusion of life-preserving hardware. She was breathing. The breaths were shal ow, almost tentative, but they were her own. Now a tube ran into a hole in her windpipe, covered with an oxygen mask.
    'She came off the ventilator last night and we performed the tracheostomy.'
    Thorne was impressed. 'Exciting night.'
    'Oh, it's non-stop excitement in here. We had a smal
    flood a while ago. Have you ever seen nurses in wel ies?' He grinned. 'I've seen the odd dodg3 video...'
    It was the first time he'd heard her laugh: it was filthy. Thorne nodded towards the flowers, which he'd picked up at a garage on the way in. They weren't quite as lovely as Anne Coburn had said. 'I felt like such an idiot last time, you know, whispering. If she can hear I thought she
    must be able to smel so...'
    'Oh, she'l smel these.'
    Suddenly Thorne