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into people who yelled or screeched wordless abuse. His heart thumped in his chest and sweat soaked the back of his shirt under his overalls.

Graves had agents who could pick him up at any moment. He needed to get away from the town and under cover of trees or bushes but where?  Terry ran his fingers through his hair and tried to gather his thoughts. Bidston Hill, that would do for a start. If he could get there, he could hide out for a while and decide what to do. He’d disabled Graves for the moment but he didn’t think he’d finished him. It would mean living rough for a while, keeping his head down but he could do that. Survival. That’s what he did best.

*****

Although the fire alarms had stopped and people had been allowed to go back inside, all work had stopped at the Pro-Vets offices and workshops. George Owens’ office where Ollerthwaite had been working was taped off and crime scene investigators were photographing and picking through the mess. DC Alex Manikas sat in the office next door with Quentin Ufford who looked visibly shaken.

“I spoke to Terry just before the alarm went off. He seemed agitated,” Ufford said. “He was pacing back and forth and muttering about George. He said something else I couldn’t quite understand. Something to do with graves.”

“Would you normally talk to Terry White?”

“No but like I said, he seemed wound up about something. I don’t know what it was, though.”

“What did he say about George Owens?”

Ufford looked as though he was trying to make sense of a complex puzzle. “He said something like Owens knows what to do or Owens knows what he wants me to do. I’m not sure what he meant but he walked away before I could reason with him. I went to talk to George because I was concerned but then the alarm went off.”

Alex looked up from his notes. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt as though Ufford wanted to say more but was holding back. “Had White had any interaction with DC Ollerthwaite before the attack to your knowledge?”

“I wouldn’t know. I spend most of my time with computers, not people. I hardly knew Terry, really.”

“And yet you stopped to talk to him…”

“I was worried. He didn’t look right. Anyone would, yes,” Ufford said and glanced out through the office window for a second and then leaned forward. “Look, I’m no psychiatrist but, I couldn’t help noticing his strange behaviour, especially recently.”

“How recently, Mr Ufford?”

“I’ve said too much, already. The poor guy is probably…”

“That ‘poor guy’ just put one of my friends in hospital, sir. What did you mean, behaving strangely and when did you first notice it?”

“Just the muttering and stuff. He’d point at people but a weird kind of pointing with two middle fingers or his two index fingers pressed together. He’d say things under his breath as though he was… I dunno… casting a spell or something. I know it sounds ridiculous.”

“No, it might be useful, Mr Ufford. Thank you. How long had you noticed this happening?”

“A good few weeks ago, but it escalated and then…”

“Go on.”

Ufford rubbed his face. “He used to do the pointing thing at Paul Travis a lot, that’s all. And then he was off the day after Paul, you know… was killed, it all just seemed a bit odd to me…”

“Are you suggesting that Terry White might have killed Paul Travis?”

“God, I feel terrible when you say it out loud like that. I dunno, do I? I’m just saying what I observed, that’s all.”

“How come you didn’t mention this before now?”

“Because you don’t do you? You never think someone you work with might be a killer. Or point at someone with a brain injury and say, I bet it was him. You just don’t. I’m sorry.” Ufford put his head down and steadied his breathing.

“That’s all right, Mr Ufford. It’s not easy for any of us.”

Ufford looked up. “It was George he listened to the most. Not that head shrinker, what’s her name? Nicola. George was the one who could persuade him to do anything. If George had been there, he would have stopped it, believe me. Your mate wouldn’t be hurt so badly, now.”

Chapter 26

Given that they were so close, Blake had gathered his team in a meeting room at Birkenhead police station just behind the Town Hall and Magistrates Court on Hamilton Square. DI Kath Cryer sat next to DC Andrew Kinnear as usual and DC Alex Manikas sat with DS Vikki Chinn. A number of uniformed officers joined them too. It was a long, echoey room with a large window covered by old strip blinds that didn’t keep the Spring sunshine out very well. Blake felt like he was back in a school classroom.

“I know you’ll be as worried as me about Ian Ollerthwaite. I ’ve been to see him and his wife at Arrowe Park and he’s stable at the moment. He took quite a beating. What’s the update on Terry White, Kath?”

“We’ve got officers searching for him, sir. Last sightings had him heading out of town towards Bidston. We suspect he might be trying to hide out around the hill.”

“We followed up the leads that Counter terrorism gave us, sir. There was no way Paul Travis’s murder was a terrorist attack.”

Alex raised a hand. “I had an interesting conversation with Quentin Ufford. He said White had been acting suspiciously for some time now and a lot of his strange behaviour was targeted at Paul Travis.”

Blake looked over to Vikki. “You have your concerns about White, don’t you Vikki?”

DS Chinn nodded. “Yes, sir. White has an acquired brain injury but, whether because of that or the trauma, he also suffers from Fregoli Delusion. It’s a condition that leaves the sufferer thinking that a particular person can take on many identities. White’s particular take on this is that an old corporal who used to bully him, a guy called Graves, has

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