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By Root 374 0

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