It was early when Doug Chaney arrived at Christine Yarrow's place. He parked his mauve Renault Clio around the side of the gated, family house so the neighbours couldn't see it; as was made clear to him the last time he showed up uninvited. He took his tie off and threw it in the back seat with his mottled grey jacket. Christine had made it very clear during their time working together that his dress sense was utterly embarrassing.

He took a tissue out of his pocket and blew his nose as he approached the door. The chill of winter had caught up with him and he had a major case of the sniffles. He gripped the cold, brass door knocker shaped like a hippo with a nose piercing. He paused. This was harder than the last time he had asked for help from her. He knocked, once and waited a few seconds before forcing out a couple more thuds.

The door flew open.

"Dougy!"

Doug hated that nickname. Everytime she referred to him like it he kicked himself for correcting her the first time she had called him it during the Sliding Faces case all those years ago.

"Christine," he said avoiding eye contact and twiddling his thumbs, palms clasped together.

"Not another case you can't solve, that's two in one year. I think you're getting old and losing your touch personally."

She stroked his arm and gave him a cheeky wink to suggest she was joking. His body language didn't change. Christine began that stare he hated. That probing stare that pierced every square inch of skin and bore in to his soul.

"It's not just help with a case is it Doug?"

He shook his head and finally made eye contact with his old partner, "Have you got that bottle of scotch still? The old Macallan 18?"

"55."

"Pardon?"

"It was a Macallan 55, think I still have it somewhere," she had an expression he had not seen before, a genuine concern, "Come in."

The last time he had seen the foyer of the house it had been a New Years Eve party. It looked much larger and colder than it had then. Just Christine alone in the house her family had owned for generations. The last of the Yarrow line. He followed her to the games room where she proceeded behind the bar and generously poured him a glass of scotch with a single ice cube. She remembered how he liked it.

"You may want one too," he said, taking the glass and turning towards the seating area.

Christine poured herself a vodka, no ice, and followed Doug towards the large, brown, leather sofa.

"Doug, what's happened? You've got me worried."

Doug reached into his bag pocket and withdrew three crumpled up pieces of A4 paper folded in to quarters. He held them in his right hand and tapped them in the palm of his left.

"You're friend Lacey..."

"Which Lacey?"

"Jeffers. She was found last night."

"I didn't know she was missing?"

"She was found dead Christine."

The cold from the November air outside crept in to the room as Christine was silenced. Doug would normally cherish these moments. The ones where she had nothing to say but he was desperate for her to make a sound. She looked vulnerable for the first time since he'd met her as a plucky twenty-three year old fresh out of university.

She reached over to Doug and snatched the papers out of Doug's hand. She exhaled slowly as she unfolded the papers to three crime scene photos. She had seen many crime scenes and murders in the past but these three smuggled images of evidence really hit home.

"Where?"

"She was found by two teenagers in Trenton Park. It looks unlikely she was murdered there," he paused. Normally this was the point she would tell him to stop stating the obvious, but nothing. Instead she laid the three images out on the floor and sat cross legged on the carpet looking at them.

"This isn't the first is it?"

"No it's the fourth."

"Fourth!" She paused and raised her eyebrows at him, "did they all have these markings on their cheeks?"

"Not those exact ones but yes a number and a face, all different emotions shown."

"What are these numbers carved into her cheek? 5.4.1?"

He looked at the floor, he knew the question that would follow his response, "Correct."

"And do you know what they mean?"

He shook his head, disgraced that despite these four murders he had nothing.

"Damn it Doug, this is a friend of mine," her expression switched, "and you come to my house wanting me to help and you give me nothing. Literally nothing but a few shitty pictures to go on."

"I came here as a friend, I don't expect your help on this one but it would be appreciated. The murders have happened each night for the last four nights."

"Can you literally do nothing by yourself in that station, I mean..." the frustration blocked her sentence from continuing. She went limp and slowly raised her hand to her face. "What do you have?"

"All girls were murdered with a blade. The killer isn't playing a game. He's clearly in a rush, quick and easy kills, otherwise he'd be more careful. The forensics teams are having a field day but the tests are just taking time to come through. The pace only stepped up when Karen was killed."

"Seriously? A knife? How cliche."

"I think so, stabbed in the jugular from behind. They then had the carvings scratched in to their cheeks using a blade. They were then dumped in to public locations with very little CCTV footage and no witnesses that have come forward yet."

"Names?"

"In order: Carly Lewis, Yolande Owusu, Karen Tinager and then Lacey."

"I know Karen..."

"Really, from where?"

"Oh not well, she runs a sweet stall down the market. She has for years, it belonged to her parents. When my dad used to take me she'd sneak me a couple extra black jacks. Sweet girl...excuse the pun."

"The other two?"

"No idea."

She stood up and left the room, returning with a pad and pen. She placed it flat on the floor in front of Doug and wrote out the names, three lines between each.

"Does this mean you'll help."

"Of course it does, I want to find the bastard that killed my friend. Now what faces did they have?"

"Let's see," he bit his bottom lip as he began thinking, "Carly was a crying, Yolande a drunk, Karen puzzled and Lacey a winking face. Or so we could make out"

"You sure? You sound hesitant."

"As much as can be."

She wrote the four faces underneath the relevant names.

"And the numbers?"

He got his phone out, there was no way he'd remember them so had written them in his notes. He opened the file and tutted.

"What's wrong? don't say you've lost them?"

"No it's this damn iphone and it's keyboard. My fingers are too fat and I keep opening the smiley faces. Why did that woman convince me to get this damn thing. I was happy with my Nokia."

"Focus Doug."

"Okay, here: Carly 2.13.2, Yolande 4.16.1, Karen 8.18.2."

"Any connection between the girls?"

"None we can find."

"I'm going to need to come to the station Doug, I need all the information."

"No, absolutely not. I got in so much trouble in January when you showed up. You don't work there anymore remember."

"Well I'm going to show up anyway, wouldn't it look better if I were invited?"

"Please Christine. The hysteria around the station has just died down from Christmas. Can't I just send you pictures now I have a camera phone? Maybe you go talk to Lacey's friends and family and maybe talk around the market people. See what you can find out."

"Fine, I'll help."

With that she stood up and walked out the room. She popped her head back through the door and stared at Doug. With a quick whistle as if calling a dog and a tilt of the head she got him off the sofa and they left the house.