Michael Morley - Viper

'Is this route used only by tourists?' Jack peered through the darkness at signs advertising cheap restaurants and hotels.

'No, not exclusively. There are houses, bars and businesses that locals frequent. Some of the workers in the park, or in the restaurants and snack bars, live around here.'

'Workers on Vesuvius?'

'Yes, on the volcano. Also in the national park where Francesca's remains were found. And further down in Pompeii and Herculaneum too. Work is hard to find and good housing even harder. If you get either, then you stick with it as long as you can. Nothing lasts forever. In Naples, nothing lasts very long.'

It took five more minutes for them to reach a lay-by where Sylvia pulled over. They got out and she produced two high-powered military flashlights from the trunk. Jack had expected a big entrance to the park but instead they took a worn path that wound uphill through a cluster of trees.

'Is this the main way in?'

'There are several routes, but this is the closest one you can take if you come here by car. This is the way that the man who found Francesca had taken.'

'The guy with the dog?'

'Yes.'

'So it's not necessarily the killer's route?'

'No, not necessarily.'

They walked in silence for a while, both wondering exactly who they were hunting. Jack thought of Creed. Had he been here with Francesca? Had he followed her out here? Perhaps approached her and been rebuffed? Had he killed her and returned her bones to the place where she'd rejected him? Or was Creed what he claimed to be – public-spirited and the only person so far to spot that a missing person was a murder victim? Had he not been so obnoxious – so sexually obsessed and twisted – it would have been easier to have believed him. Maybe one of the workers Sylvia had just mentioned was the killer? A tourist guide, bus driver or restaurant worker? They had local knowledge and, given how remote this place was, local knowledge was obviously a factor. Or could there be more than just an organic link to the Camorra, the evil and untouchable shadow that seemingly fell over everyone and everything in Campania?

'Here we are!' Sylvia's flashlight picked out an area still fenced and taped off but unguarded. 'When I first heard of the bones, I didn't think it would be murder.'

'Why's that?'

'Well, recently we've had a spate of discoveries. Bones have been found, not around here but across other parts of Naples.'

Jack looked confused.

'The city's cemeteries are as overcrowded as its slums. To make way for new burials – and the cash that accompanies them – the Camorra exhume graves then re-bury the bones in the countryside. Eventually the dearly departed work their way to the surface. Over at Santa Maria Capua Vetere so many bones were coming through in the fields that locals would cross themselves as they walked past.'

'Is nothing sacred any more?'

'Doesn't seem so. Some of my colleagues in public health discovered that the kids over there were pulling skulls out of the earth, cleaning them up and selling them in street markets.'

'So you thought that might have been the case here? Another field of Golgotha?'

'Right up until we confirmed the burning and breaking of the bones. That changed things a little.'

Sylvia waved her torch at the crime scene. 'This isn't the kind of place many people would come at night. I don't see our guy killing his victims out here, do you?'

Jack shook his head. It was really off the beaten track. Secluded. Miles from anywhere. 'I agree. This isn't the kind of place you can build a pyre, tie someone to a stake and set them alight. Too risky. Too open.'

'And anyway, I guess it'd be too awkward to bring her up here, control her and kill her in that kind of way?'

'Absolutely. He had somewhere else. Somewhere private. Some place no one could see the fire. Or if anyone did see it, then they would never think anything sinister was happening.'

Jack pictured Francesca being burned alive. Imagined her killer standing back and watching her die. Was he smiling? Laughing? Masturbating? He turned slowly. The bleached white beam of his flashlight played over the bushes and into the trees. If he killed her some place else, then why bury her here? Why not drop the bones down some distant drains? Scatter them in far-off garbage sites. Dump them in the nearby bay. What was the significance of this place? 'We seem to have stopped climbing. Am I right?' Jack queried.

'Well, if you'd have come in daylight,' she teased, 'then yes, you would instantly have noticed that this area is flat – or, at least, flatter than most of the land.' She pointed her beam of light into the distance and it flashed like a Star Wars light sabre. 'The ground climbs just a little over there. I wish you could see clearly because there's a wonderful view of Vesuvius from here – in the daylight, that is.'

Jack looked troubled. 'The volcano, this parkland, they have a special meaning for the killer, or his victims. Do any of the women have any ties to this area, any links that I should know of?'

Sylvia shook her head. 'None that we know of. We've only just started looking at the cases, but certainly Francesca didn't have any real links to this place.'

'Then it's the killer. The place holds some special significance for him.'

Sylvia turned in the dark towards the black peak of Vesuvius. 'What significance? I guess it's too early to hope you have any idea?'

Jack gazed into the distance. Tried to fish a connection out of the darkness. 'That's the mystery we have to solve. And we have to do it quickly. Like we said, this is the worst kind of killer. And the worst kind not only kills again, it always happens sooner than you expect.'

Campeggio Castellani, Pompeii Rosa Novello snuggled up to her boyfriend's arm as Filippo Valdrano drove his father's barely roadworthy old Fiat to the back of the campsite. He had the perfect spot in mind. A place where they could be alone. Away from the prying eyes of their parents.

The two families had been holidaying together for years, and since he and Rosa had become engaged their parents' attention had been suffocating. It was a relief to be on their own.

'Here's okay. Don't you think?' He drew to a halt and pulled up the handbrake. 'It's near the woods we walked in the other day.'

'It's just fine.' She leaned over and kissed him as he turned the engine off.

Filippo swooned, slipped down the straps of her pink top and nuzzled her neck.

'Wait!' she said playfully. 'Let's at least put the radio on. Get romantic. We don't have to rush.'

'Oh, baby. You don't know how wrong you are. I need to rush. I really need to rush!'

She pushed him away and twirled the dial, her heartbeat as loud as the crackling FM static.

Filippo pulled his T-shirt over his head and she instantly gave up on the music. God, he was hot! Muscled shoulders, rippling abs, not a pinch of flab. She pushed her mouth against his again and felt her breath escaping.

He pulled away. 'Wait! Hold on, wait!' He was teasing now, pulling away from her.

She stared at him. 'Oh, you really want to wait, do you?'

He tried to look disinterested as she slowly peeled off her top and then slowly released her pale-yellow, front-fastening bra.

All his coolness disappeared.

He lunged forward to put his mouth to her breasts.

'Oh, no, no, no!' She pressed the flat of her palm against his forehead and held him back. 'You said wait, so you can wait.'

Christ, he wanted her, ached for her. 'Let's push these seats forward and get in the back.'

'Now, that's the best idea you've had,' grinned Rosa. She kicked off her gold pumps, unzipped her white jeans and wriggled out of them. She arched her back to slip off her pale-yellow panties and, as she did, he kissed the flat of her stomach. She smelled of coconut body lotion. He cupped her buttocks with his hands and kissed and licked the inside of her thighs.