Close Your Eyes by Michael Robotham

Harper for weeks. He may have befriended them. He clearly had knowledge of the house, which suggests he may have visited it before.’
    DCS Cray is still on stage but seems lost. If she arrests Milo there will be headlines all over tomorrow’s papers.
    ‘We also know that Elizabeth Crowe had been using a website to meet sexual partners,’ says Milo. ‘There is evidence that she took part in orgies in public places with random strangers.’
    The information causes a buzz in the crowd. Becca jumps to her feet again. Tearful. Angry. ‘Liar! You’re calling my sister a … a…’ She can’t bring herself to use the word.
    Francis joins in this time. ‘How dare you insult our family! We didn’t come here to listen to gossip and innuendo.’
    ‘Why did you come here?’ asks Milo, dismissing him with a sad-eyed smile. ‘You want answers, the same as everyone else. I’m not judging Mrs Crowe, but I cannot ignore the possibility that she met the killer at one of those locations where people gather to have sex or watch others.
    ‘What isn’t in doubt is that someone attacked and overpowered Elizabeth. The assault was frenzied, yet efficient, carried out by someone with forensic awareness. He took care to clean up afterwards. This man is ruthless, confident and able to carry out his plans with precision. This suggests he may have a military background or be involved in a job that requires organisational skills.
    ‘I believe the killer is most likely aged between twenty-five and fifty-five. He was strong enough to have overpowered a fit and healthy woman and suffocate her teenage daughter. He will have a fascination with violent pornography and also the occult.’
    Cray has heard enough. She leaves the stage, flanked by the two constables. Monk turns to me. ‘Are you coming?’
    ‘I’ll stay.’
    ‘Suit yourself.’
    On stage, Milo seems to be growing in stature, his face lit with evangelical zeal. This is his moment in the spotlight. ‘I don’t want to antagonise the police,’ he explains. ‘They do an important and difficult job, but sometimes detectives lose sight of the salient points of an investigation. They stare at the murder map for so long they are blind to its elements – unable to see the wood for the trees.
    ‘Now I want you all to remember back to the night of Saturday June sixth, and the early hours of the following morning. The killer would have been covered in blood – his clothes, his face, his hands and his shoes. Do you know of anyone who came home that night in a different set of clothes; someone who acted suspiciously or who has taken an unhealthy interest in the coverage of the murders? It could be a neighbour, a friend, or somebody who lives under your roof, or drinks at your local pub or works in your office. He might even be here tonight.’
    The audience has fallen silent, shifting uncomfortably in their seats, some purposely avoiding eye contact while others focus upon me – a stranger in the room.
    ‘This is not about living in fear or being paranoid,’ Milo says. ‘It’s about searching your memories.’ He glances towards the door. ‘It’s a shame that DCS Cray has gone because I do not blame the police. They are still our best hope for solving this shocking crime. So if you do have information, feel free to come to me. I will treat it confidentially and pass it on to the right people. Thank you.’
    Milo steps down from the stage. He makes a point of going straight to Becca and Francis, offering his condolences and apologising. Becca refuses to shake his hand. Francis seems more protective than angry, telling Milo to leave them alone.
    Meanwhile people are pushing past me as they leave the hall. I can hear snatches of their conversations.
    ‘Sex in public … who’d have thought…’
    ‘I always said there was something odd about her.’
    ‘Some of those clothes she wore…’
    ‘I didn’t like the way she looked at my husband.’
    ‘Did she flirt with