Lynda La Plante - The Red Dahlia

Sharon's body was already zipped into a bag and already in the Range Rover. His father said he had hurt his back and needed him to help. Edward had tried to refuse and Charles had slapped his face. Charles had threatened that if he did not do exactly as he was told, then he and his fianc�e could get the hell out.

Edward said they had driven around until they came upon a field that they could drive into, via a slip road. He had helped carry her body across a dirt track and through a double-fenced gate. His father then instructed Edward to return to the Range Rover. Edward again swore that he did not see his father tipping the dead woman out of the body bag but he did recall that he was bending over her for a long time. Charles returned to the Range Rover and then started swearing when he found a reddish coat on the back seat. He returned to the field but was back after only a few minutes. They went home and, as if nothing had happened, Edward was told to get an early ride set up for the morning.

The room was quiet as Langton finished. He gave a long sigh. 'They rode out at seven and passed close to the field where her body was dumped because he, Edward Wickenham, recalled seeing the dark maroon coat!' He gave a shrug. 'That's it, ladies and gentlemen. I am going before the magistrates and I want bail refused. I'd say we'll get it.'

The headline of the final edition of the Evening Standard screamed out RED DAHLIA KILLER SOUGHT.

Anna was at her desk when her mobile rang: it was Richard Reynolds.

'Hi, how's things?'

Anna couldn't believe his audacity. He asked if there was any chance of an 'exclusive' interview with Justine Wickenham.

'Why are you asking me?'

'Well, considering you've lost your man, it looks to me as if you need all the help you can get in tracing him. If you could put me in touch with her, you never know what…'

'Piss off,' she snapped.

'That's the second time you've said that to me. It's not very nice.'

'It wasn't intended to be.'

'It's almost like the original case, isn't it?'

'I'm sorry?'

'The killer of the Black Dahlia was never caught, right?'

She suddenly had a gut feeling he might be taping her so she hung up. She was so concerned that she went to see Langton. His door was ajar. He was on the phone and gestured for her to come in.

'He's being taken to the magistrates' court. I suggest if you want to speak to him, you should contact his solicitor. Pardon?' He listened and then covered the phone with his hand. 'Justine Wickenham.' He returned to the call. 'I'll give you five minutes, but I will have to have someone present.' He listened again and then said that he'd wait. He put the phone down. 'She wants a short conversation with her brother! Something to do with her sister. It's a bit unorthodox but…'

Anna nodded and repeated the conversation she had just had with Reynolds.

'Listen, those two-faced bastards are like hornets outside the station. He was just trying it on, don't worry about it.'

He reached for his jacket. 'He's bloody right though, isn't he? And the longer Wickenham's at large, the less likely we are to track him down. We don't know if he had fake passports; we know he has money. I've contacted Special Branch to get flight manifests, so they're checking on potential foreign travel. We've also checked with his ex-wife in Milan, and he's not there. Christ only knows where he is.'

As Justine only lived a short distance from the station, she made an appearance five minutes later. Anna was with Langton in the station reception. Justine gave a brief nod to Anna and then showed them a document.

'I want to get my brother's signature; it's giving me the right to see if I can get Emily home. I need to be there to look after the horses. Old Mrs Hedges is in a bit of a state.'

Anna was surprised at her calmness; she made no mention of the hunt for her father.

'Don't you think under the circumstances that taking Emily there wouldn't be that good an idea?'

Justine gave a sardonic smile. 'Well, our father's not going to be there, is he? So she won't have to worry.'

Langton checked his watch, and then stared at Justine. 'Do you know where he is?'

'No.'

'Do you have any idea where he might be?'

'No, but I told her.' She looked at Anna. 'I told you, didn't I? I said you'd never get him and I was right.'

Both Langton and Anna were present when Justine confronted her brother. Langton did not want there to be any opportunity for another Wickenham to escape. He was hardly able to look at her, his face was shiny with sweat, and he stank of body odour.

'Sign in two places.' Justine pointed calmly, and he dutifully signed.

'Gail was released from custody. Did she return to the house?'

Justine checked over his signature and folded the papers. 'Mrs Hedges said her aunt or someone came to collect her from the cottage. She took a load of suitcases; it didn't look as if she was intending to come back.'

'Did she leave a forwarding address?' Langton asked quickly. 'We'll need it when we go to trial.'

'Yes, yes,' snapped Justine impatiently.

Justine stood up and slipped the strap of her handbag over her shoulder. She thanked Langton, then walked out without a backward glance to her dejected brother as he broke down sobbing. Fifteen minutes later, with a blanket over his head, he was led out of the station and into the wagon for his appearance at court. There were, as Langton had said, numerous reporters and cameras waiting outside the station. The cameras flashed as they drove out.

Edward Wickenham was charged with perverting the course of justice and being an accessory to murder. He said only his name and address and that he would plead not guilty. Langton asked that no bail be granted, as his father was being hunted and he felt that Wickenham could be cajoled into helping him. Bail was refused and Edward Wickenham, again covered in a blanket, was taken to Brixton prison.

It was late when Langton was informed that forensics would require still more time at the Hall. The police still had no sighting of Charles Wickenham. Langton had to give yet another press statement, asking the public for every assistance: the fact Wickenham had escaped was still headlined on all the TV news bulletins.

Anna returned home and went to bed early, feeling depressed and tired out. She was well aware that, despite all their hard work, losing Wickenham would have severe repercussions. She had also half hoped that Langton would maybe say something about wanting to see her.

The following morning, forensic tests identified blood, hair and skin samples from the Hall as belonging to Louise Pennel. Hair and semen stains had been tested from the plastic-covered operating table which also gave a DNA match for Sharon Bilkin. There were five other blood samples of unknown origin.

Langton stood with his hands stuffed into his pockets as Lewis gave him the update.

'Jesus Christ, how many women did that bastard kill down there?'

Anna watched him taking in all the new evidence. If Charles Wickenham had not escaped, it would have been a very jubilant morning; as it was, depression hung in the air. Langton tried to make a joke of it, saying that they now had enough to arrest him ten times over. He held up a cartoon from the Daily Mail, showing loads of uniformed police officers and a pair of empty handcuffs, the suspect crawling through their legs.

Langton had arranged for Anna and Lewis to accompany him back to the Hall, as the forensics chief was ready to pack up: he needed to make out the official report and have it signed off by Langton. The three drove in silence; it was pointless making light conversation as there was nothing light about what they would have to face. The press had surrounded their car as they drove out from the station car park. Langton had wound down his window and told them that the police were not looking for any other suspect. He then wound his window back up and muttered, 'We just can't fucking find him.'