Free Bleed Like Me by Cath Staincliffe

captured by ANPR at eleven fifty on the M6 near Penrith. We now have a second result from ANPR timed at three twenty-nine close to Ribbleton.’ The screen on the wall showed the map, initially on a small scale so people could understand the context, see the major towns and road networks, then Gill zoomed in so people could see in greater detail. ‘So he’s heading back down the M6, retracing his route. Why? Calls from the public now being actioned. Last verified sighting of Cottam . . .’ Gill looked to Rachel, who appeared to have just woken up.
    ‘Six thirty this morning, neighbour returning the dog spoke to him briefly. She also saw the two youngsters. At six forty-five Mr Grainger who has the farm on the far side saw the car but got no visual on the driver.’
    ‘No other activity logged,’ Gill said, checking with Andy that that was still the case.
    He agreed. ‘His phone has not been switched on. He hasn’t made or received any calls, he hasn’t accessed his emails or used an ATM.’
    ‘He’s gone off the radar,’ Gill summarized.
    ‘Why’s he still using the car?’ Mitch said. ‘He must know we can ping him.’ Ian Mitchell had a young family himself, second marriage. Gill suspected he’d be feeling this case particularly keenly, though it would never affect his judgement or his consummate professionalism.
    She held out a hand, inviting contributions from the floor.
    ‘Not found an alternative,’ said Janet. ‘If the kids are still with him, he can’t just dump it and start walking.’
    Gill nodded. ‘They’re a liability, limiting his options,’ she said.
    ‘Why did he take them?’ Rachel said. ‘Why didn’t he wait for Tessa to go then finish what he started?’ The way she put it was almost brutal but Gill could hear the puzzlement in her voice. Rachel wanted to make sense of the man’s actions. Because then she could better second guess what he might do next and how they might catch him.
    ‘Lost his nerve,’ Mitch said.
    ‘If I can?’ The criminal psychologist, Leonard Petty, a small, round-faced man with a liking for hair oil and kipper ties, spoke up.
    ‘Please,’ Gill invited him to say his piece.
    ‘A sense of control, of being in charge, is central to the personality here. The likelihood is that the murders were planned. Cottam executed the first three killings effectively and while the victims were asleep. No fight, no words exchanged, nothing to interfere with the scenario he’d envisaged. I think it’s probable that he intended to do the same to the two youngest children. When the dog was returned and they woke, his plans went out of the window. He hadn’t anticipated having to attack anyone who was awake, anyone communicating with him. Rather than lose control, which is his default position, he will delay and construct a new plan to regain his sense of being in command of what happens.’
    ‘Why didn’t he kill the dog in the first place? Why let it out?’ said Pete. An astute question. Pete might be a sloppy dresser – Gill looked at his shapeless fleece and tracksuit bottoms and thought that he’d reached an age where he was letting himself go to seed – but his work remained methodical, good on detail.
    ‘It wasn’t his dog,’ the psychologist said. ‘The family werelooking after the pet for a neighbour. He only wants to kill those he sees as close family. To take them with him. Not to abandon them. Think of it as suicide by proxy. His ultimate goal is to end his life, but first he must make sure he includes his nearest and dearest.’
    Janet sighed and shook her head.
    ‘He couldn’t risk it, either,’ Rachel said suddenly, eyes flashing bright. ‘He could maybe have gone back in and thought up a way to kill the kids, then hanged himself or whatever, but Tessa told him that if the dog had been worrying sheep Grainger would have the police round. For all Cottam knew they were already on their way. He hadn’t time.’
    ‘Another interruption.’ Gill