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killer? These coincidences—he didn’t like them. Things were getting even closer to home. Had the bloke remembered coming here as a child, was that it? If so, why the chuff was he back now? To see their father? Had the bloke needed to dredge up the courage to visit? Or had he been here before and Burgess’ mother hadn’t noticed?

She’d said she hadn’t seen anyone like him hanging around—and she should know, curtain-twitcher that she was. A titter had sparkled out of her mouth at that. Most days were spent sitting in her chair by the window, her gazing out at the comings and goings, making mental notes on all the neighbours, and sometimes, she’d admitted, imagining where they’d been and where they were going. Stories she invented to keep loneliness and boredom at bay.

It had given Burgess an emotional punch to the gut. She didn’t have much of a life, and he needed to visit her more. The thing was, his mother was usually overbearing, too much, so he’d avoided her. Yet she hadn’t been when they’d questioned her about his father having another son. Maybe Burgess just hadn’t taken the time to get to know the real Mrs Varley, the woman beneath the uptight, snobbish mother.

More guilt. More things to be ashamed of about myself.

She’d understandably been frightened at spotting someone who looked so much like her late husband. Christ, he knew how that felt, having had a scare himself after seeing the picture of Anita and that man. But for his mother to twig that the killer they were seeking had positioned himself directly over the road…well, the old dear had been out of her mind with worry. Still, she was on her way to a hotel now, assured by Burgess that she’d be safe and there wasn’t anything to fret over. He’d arranged for Denton to take her to one out of the area. No way could Burgess allow her to stay at home. Not until the bastard had been caught.

“I’m going to have to tell the DCI now. Tell the team,” he said.

Shaw nodded. “You are if you expect to have a copper sitting out here in a car, watching the place in case he comes back. Got to be a solid reason for that kind of request, and the DCI won’t settle for anything flimsy, you know that.”

“Shit. If I have to remove myself from the case…” Burgess took his phone out, hovering his finger over his contact list icon. “You’ll go with whatever I say?”

“You know I will.”

“All right.”

He connected the call. Spoke to the boss, annoyed that his voice trembled, going with the version that his mother had contacted him to speak about the murders from years ago, and while she had, the use of his father’s birthdate and the resemblance to him from the photo had become clear in his mind.

“So things have taken a personal turn then. Hmm.” The DCI paused for the longest time.

Too long.

The boss sighed—getting ready to impart words Burgess wouldn’t want to hear? Burgess held his breath, coaching himself to accept the DCI’s next utterance with grace instead of pouting and stamping his feet. Burgess knew the rules. They weren’t bent often, and he didn’t think they’d be bent now.

“Are you up for remaining on the case?” the DCI asked.

Fuck. Wasn’t expecting that.

“Yes.” Burgess was surprised there was even that option. “If I can’t handle it, you’ll be the first to know and Shaw can take over, but I don’t envisage anything making me want to pull out.”

“Fine by me. There’s no one other than Emerson available as a lead detective anyway, and he can’t work twenty-four seven.”

“No.” And you won’t shift your arse and get your hands dirty these days.

“You possibly being related to the killer isn’t a problem for you?”

Prickles of anger jabbed up Burgess’ spine. Not directed at the boss, but at the reference to his so-called brother. He had no sodding brother in his eyes. “No. He’s no relation of mine. He’s a murderer, nothing more. You know how I feel about scum like him.”

“Good answer. And yes, I know how passionate you are about putting arseholes behind bars, which is why I’m allowing you to stay on the case. No one better, in my opinion.”

Maybe being with Marla has mellowed the man. Maybe all those garters being draped across his face has given him a different perspective.

Burgess shut the images out of his head. “So you’ll authorise a watch on my mother’s house?”

“Of course. That lad. Denton, is it? He’s one to watch rise up the ranks. Good copper, him.”

“He’s taking her to a hotel at the moment. The only one I trusted to do so without asking a boatload of questions or telling someone else on the team what he was doing before I’d given him the go-ahead to speak about it.”

“Then you two either sit tight until he gets back or arrange for someone else to take your place. We can’t risk the suspect returning and us missing him. He may not even return, but for him to have been there in the first place tells me there was a need for him to be there. What that is…that’s for you to find out.”

Burgess thought about losing Denton off his team if he put him on stakeout detail. “I’ll request another couple of uniforms for surveillance. Denton’s been diligent so far, digging in and finding valuable information. I need him.”

“Whatever you think’s best. I have to go. Lunch in my future.”

The call went dead, leaving Burgess staring at his phone. Granted, the boss had done his stint for years in Burgess’ position, but it seemed the bloke did nothing but ponce around having lunch and chewing Burgess’ arse off if pressure filtered down from someone higher up the chain

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