The call had been gruelling and had lasted two hours, and Rita had only talked for a few minutes. Unlike Heather, who was the face of the whole thing, she hadn't taken any questions, but leaving the chat she wondered if she'd just put a target on her back. Serial killers often followed police investigations into their crimes closely. Some, like BTK and the Zodiac even tried to involve themselves and 'help'.

Had he been watching?

Something told her he had.

'Can anyone confirm they can give me backup this weekend when I meet Lucia? Just in case of any safeguarding issues, she's 14.' Rita felt increasingly anxious at the meeting, and any guests the teenager could invite. She wondered if agreeing to see her was a mistake.

'Yeah, I'll come along and sit at the back somewhere. I don't think people assume I'm a cop,' Laurentia said, speaking Spanish with a strong Romanian accent. Only 7 years older than Lucia, she could be mistaken for a teenager depending how she dressed.

'Thanks, Laurentia.'

'As in... that Lucia? Wonder what she wants to talk to you about?' Mansouri was confused and spoke nervously as he rose from his black office swivel chair. Since their ill fated visit to Bonita Gutiérrez, he'd been avoiding her.

'Yeah, says she has some information about her mum she wants to tell me now she knows the truth.' Because of how she'd helped Pepelito, Rita guessed. Maybe Lucia thought she wasn't some typical uncaring cop.

Perhaps Lucia felt she could trust her.

'Considering her mum's feelings on all this, yeah, that'd make sense.'

'Yeah. Right, Jesus, Abdul, you coming to the plaza?' she said, getting up; hating the prospect of stepping foot there. She wouldn't be in the stands long, if at all, but she'd see and hear enough. The fury she felt, picturing the spectators paying for their tickets, was now tinged with fear.

Would the killer be there, watching?

'Yeah, let's get on it. Just gotta remember not to murder anyone ourselves,' Dominguez muttered.

'Sanchez wants to see me, see you there in a bit,' Mansouri said. Rita was glad of Jesus's presence as they walked out the door of the police station, heading down a narrow street in the direction of the ring.

'I hope my uncle's going to be all right. I told him to consider giving him to a sanctuary, if that prick harasses him again. The village cops won't take the threats seriously, they think it's a joke. Too bad it isn't anywhere near our jurisdiction.' Dominguez sighed. Rita felt horrific. Silvio was an old man. He'd willingly taken Pepelito, and adored him, she reminded herself. But he didn't ask for any of this.

'Probably wouldn't do him much good to move again but yeah, maybe they'd be more experienced with dealing with this intimidation,' Rita said quietly, feeling for her gun in her pocket.

'Maybe. I heard Castella bragging about his kills on the radio this morning. What did he say? 'I've got an unbroken record of killing every bull I've ever faced, and I'm not about to lose that record.'' As Dominguez spoke, Rita could picture it.

'Ugh. Pepelito just wants to live.'

'Yep. Going after him is a can of worms those guys don't wanna open.' Walking past her road, Rita gave a brief glance in the direction of her flat. She couldn't face going in and sorting it out. A cleaning company and some builders had given her a quote. The amount was eye watering, so she'd have to do most of it herself instead. She had another message from Heather.

'Just had an email about that 55-year-old victim in the UK,' she said, looking at the British policewoman's latest message.

'Oh yeah?'

'Guy called Graham Ferry. His ex's been inside for 8 years. They've just received the paperwork to let her out.'

'8 years for something you didn't do. Dios mio.'

'Yeah. Apparently there was a police corruption scandal, and the guy who was in charge resigned last year, so now they're looking into old convictions.' The narrow, paved streets gave way to wider roads again. It wasn't far now; the nausea in Rita's stomach intensified.

'Sounds familiar,' Dominguez muttered, rolling his eyes.

*

'Right, here we are,' Dominguez said as they arrived at the plaza de toros. A group of German tourists were buying tickets to the next corrida, which started in an hour. They looked excited and happy - to watch 6 bulls get slowly stabbed to death. Rita felt physically sick.

'If it starts in an hour, they'll have been in the dark for hours already with no food or water,' Rita gulped, thinking about how Pepelito had reacted to being locked in the bathroom. It was such a hot day. Dominguez gave her a look.

'Yeah, but this is our national tradition isn't it, for better or worse. There's not much you or I can do to help them except catching the killer, and any of this lot who are helping him,' Dominguez said under his breath as they approached the ticket kiosk. He was right. They didn't have many suspects. A witness had come forward saying she'd seen the enclosure keeper, Valero, attacking Sonia shortly before she died, but after eleven years, there was no guarantee this was reliable.

'Police, we're here to ask you some questions,' Rita said to the girl at the desk, putting a foot inside the doorway.

'Is this about that bull, I thought they'd found him?' the girl said, looking confused. She looked barely out of high school.

'No, it's about a murder. Several murders, actually,' Rita said, taking several deep breaths as she looked around. The ticket kiosk was full of bullfighting posters of varying sizes. One, from several weeks ago, advertised Castella's unfinished solo corrida on the 16th of April. Pepelito's name was listed along with Ladron and four other bulls in small print on the bottom.

'Oh,' the girl said, looking shocked.

'Where were you on the 16th of April after 17:00?' Rita asked, nauseous.

The girl glanced at the poster. 'That's when that bull escaped, right? I was here. Then they shut the whole thing and sent us home so they could go and look for it. I went home and then went out with some friends.'

Rita gulped back her overwhelming rage. Selling tickets to corridas was a terrible thing to do but this girl was just trying to earn some money.

'Can anyone confirm this?' she said.

'Sure,' the girl said nervously, writing something down on a notepad. 'My mum and my best friend. I'll give you their numbers.'

Rita took the piece of paper with the numbers on it. The kiosk was also selling tourist guides, fridge magnets and keyrings with bulls and matadors on them. Swallowing hard, she showed the girl the picture of Caroline McKenzie. 'Have you ever seen this woman?'

The girl looked at the photo. Something clicked. 'I dunno. Maybe. I think I saw someone who looked like her. She was having a conversation with some guy, I recognised him because he'd bought a ticket. It was a bit weird. They were arguing. But I don't speak English. So I didn't understand it.'

'Did you see what he looked like?' Rita said, her stomach lurching. If that had been Caroline, it would be one of the last times, if not the last, anyone had seen her alive. 'You said he bought a ticket? Was that the first time you'd seen him there?'

'No, he's bought tickets a few times,' the girl said. 'He's English. He dresses in posh clothes. I don't know. I'm bad with ages. In his 40s, or maybe 50s?'

'Anything else you remember?' Rita asked. The girl shook her head.

'Thank you,' Rita said, her heart racing. 'Can you come to the station later and make a statement?'

'Uh, sure,' the girl said. 'Is it OK if I come later? After work.'

'Work, huh.' Rita's heart pounded in her throat. The blood rushed to her head as she stepped out of the kiosk. She gasped for breath and tears came to her eyes. 'I don't know what your name is but you seem nice. Take my advice. Get another job. These people are evil.'

The girl looked at her dubiously.

She walked a few paces away from the kiosk towards the entrance, then her foot caught on a crack in the pavement outside. She didn't feel the pain first, didn't even realise she'd fallen. When she did, the tears came out of embarrassment. The German tourists were eyeing them warily. Couldn't you find anything to do in our city? I hope the rest of your holiday is shit, she thought. By their faces she realised she'd said it aloud. Or had she? Maybe she hadn't...

'Go home and get some rest, eh, Rita, Abdul will be here in a sec,' Dominguez was saying as he helped her up. Her breath caught in her throat as she stood, blinking back tears and hyperventilating. A group of people were watching her. Were they going to the ring or just passing by? She imagined them gawping like that in the stands, imagined them enjoying the bulls die. Imagined one was the killer.

'I'm fine,' she said to Dominguez as they passed through the side entrance to the arena. She wasn't; she hated everyone and everything she'd see here.

'You sure?' he said.

'Yeah. Let's do this.'

*

They found the bulls' enclosure half an hour later. It had high walls with steps and benches on one side. At one end was a locked door leading to the cells and the maze of dark one-way passages towards the arena. One bull was left; they always kept two as replacements in case something went wrong with the others. The bull, which was a light grey colour, was standing in the corner, looking up fearfully at the metal walkway above him, where Rita stood with Dominguez. Today was so hot; there was no water in the trough, and no real shade.

'I'll handle this cruel bastard, Rita.' Dominguez spoke quietly.

'Those village cops let you out fast. Pity you weren't gored, Valero,' he whispered, shaking his head, as the enclosure keeper climbed the stairs leading to the platform. Dominguez smiled, said 'Buenas tardes' and held out his hand. Rita stared at the man without speaking, her legs trembling under her trousers.

'Can I help you?' Valero didn't look worried to see the police.

'We're working on a serial killer investigation. Some information we've received leads us to think the killer frequents this place.' Dominguez spoke in a calm voice, hiding his dislike.

'Really? What information?' Valero said warily.

'I need you to answer some questions, if that's not too much trouble,' Dominguez said. The corrida had started, the band was playing its sinister music. The remaining bull appeared incredibly distressed, walking around in circles and trying to jump at the wall.

'Don't you dare try anything! I'm not having another one get out after what happened two weeks ago, I knew there was something wrong with that one.' Valero grabbed a long metal pole lying on the platform. The bull backed away from the wall and retreated to the corner, shaking. Rita felt nauseous.

Before Valero could beat the animal, Dominguez handed him Caroline McKenzie's photo. Politely but firmly, he asked, 'Tell me, have you ever seen this woman before?'

Valero shook his head, barely pretending to look.

'Where were you on Saturday 16th April after 17:00?' The man shrugged. Rita noticed he completely ignored her, only speaking to Dominguez. Not that she was complaining.

'That's when that bull got out! I was here, then around 17:30, I went to look with the others,' he said confidently. The grey bull gazed miserably up at them.

'I went to a bar around 8, when we couldn't find him. I think I was there most of the evening.'

This Rita found easy to believe. She could smell the booze on him.

'What about this young man?' Dominguez showed Valero a picture of Aidan. Again, he barely looked. Out of sight, the crowd cheered with happiness. Their sick enjoyment made Rita want to throw up. The lone bull gave a sad cry from his muddy prison and Valero stared at the animal in fury.

'Shut up, you're pathetic, no wonder you're just a replacement,' he spat at the frightened creature. I'm so sorry this is happening to you; I'll do my absolute best to save you, Rita thought.

'Excuse me, señor. Could you look again at the photo, please?' Dominguez said. This time Valero looked properly.

'No. Never seen him.'

'What about this woman?' Dominguez said, showing the enclosure keeper the photo of Sonia. Valero stared at the picture.

Suddenly his entire demeanour changed.

His eyes widened with fear. He shakily put the pole down. Rita kicked it and it rolled over the side, crashing onto the soil below, away from his prisoner. Valero swallowed hard, his whole body shaking as he clung to the metal railing like a life raft.

'Excuse me, señor,' Dominguez said coldly.

'No comment,' he gulped.