Like This, for Ever

to the small black bags being carried out of the police tent. The boys were being taken away. A few outraged cries broke out, as though the police on the beach were responsible for what had happened to the children.
    Beneath the bridge, uniformed officers with torches were still combing the short stretch of bank that remained accessible. A small area had been cordoned off with police tape. Stenning shone his torch on to it.
    ‘Footprints?’ asked Anderson.
    ‘Large wellington-type boot,’ said Stenning. ‘Looks to be the same tread as the ones we found at Bermondsey. Thing is, there would be no need for him to come here. Look.’
    He was pointing back towards the stairs.
    ‘He carried them down the steps, then a few yards along the beach to where we found them. He’d want to get it over with as quickly as possible. And yet he walks all the way over here, a detour of – what – eight metres, to leave a footprint.’
    ‘On the only stretch of sand I can see on this beach,’ said Dana.
    ‘My thoughts exactly, Ma’am,’ said Stenning. ‘On the rocks and gravel, he wouldn’t have left any prints. So he comes over to a patch of sand that, conveniently, happens to be beneath the bridge and sheltered from the rain. He wanted us to find it.’
    ‘Cheeky bastard,’ said Anderson.
    ‘Who’s that, Sarge? Him or me?’
    ‘Both. You OK to accompany the bodies?’
    Stenning agreed that he was and then set off to follow the mortuary van as it took the boys’ bodies away.
    ‘I’ll get on with the door-to-door, if it’s alright with you,’ said Anderson.
    Dana nodded. Anderson invariably got twitchy if forced to keep still for more than a few minutes during an investigation.
    ‘Somebody will have seen something,’ he went on. ‘Even if they don’t know it yet.’ He turned to go, then half turned back again. ‘What’s up, Boss?’ he asked her.
    She ought to tell him nothing, that she was fine. The team needed her to be fine.
    ‘This one scares me, Neil.’
    She saw his head draw back, his eyes narrow. ‘You’re the DI who caught the Ripper,’ he said. ‘My money’s on him being scared of you.’
    Anderson loved to say what he thought was the right thing. Even when the right thing was an obvious cliché.
    ‘Mark and Lacey caught the Ripper,’ she said. ‘I just got the credit. And I was never as scared by the Ripper as I am by this one. Four boys dead in two months. Another one still missing. And he’s speeding up. He’s taking them faster and he’s killing them faster. How long have we got before the next one?’

3
    AS LONG FINGERS closed around his neck, Barney dropped his Coke can, the wheels of his skates slid and he almost fell. Two strong hands kept him upright.
    ‘Steady, Barney Boy. Don’t piss your pants.’
    Aw, shit-shit-shit! Every nerve-ending singing, sweat breaking out all over his body, Barney wondered if being proved right was any consolation for being made to look an absolute tit. What the hell was Jorge playing at?
    ‘Prat,’ he managed.
    Jorge, his best mate’s older brother and the gang’s undisputed leader, had been hiding on the roof of the bikeshed. To cover up the fact that his face would be bright red and that he’d snorted snot out of his nose, Barney bent to pick up the now-dented Coke can. ‘How long have you been up there?’ he asked, when he’d wiped his nose on his sleeve and straightened up.
    ‘Couple of minutes.’ Jorge didn’t even bother trying not to grin. ‘Spotted you at the corner.’
    OK, deep breaths. It was dark, maybe no one would see the sweat on his forehead. He hadn’t wet himself, thank God. ‘You been rehearsing?’ he asked, in an attempt to sound normal.
    Jorge nodded. ‘Mum texted me to say I had to collect Harvey on the way home. Come on.’
    Leaping on his skateboard and kicking off, Jorge set off towardsthe others, leaving in his wake a sense of pent-up energy that was unusual, even for him. Harvey had been complaining lately that Jorge came back from rehearsals completely hyper. That it took him several hours just to calm down. If he pulled tricks on a regular basis like the one he’d just played, Barney could understand Harvey being pissed off.
    The rest of the gang watched as first Jorge and then Barney made their way up the ramp towards them.
    ‘Your hair’s green,’ said Hatty, looking at Jorge.
    Jorge tossed his head and ruffled his short, usually silver-blond spikes. ‘Hairdressing wanted to try it out,’