‘I like these bastards to be consistent,’ said Frost, still not convinced. ‘How’s the girl?’

‘Tired and emotional – he must have knocked the poor kid about – but the doctors say she can go home. Her mother’s on her way with her clothes. We’ve taken those she was wearing for forensic testing.’ He jerked his thumb at the ward door. ‘End bed with the screens.’ He scuttled off down the long corridor.

Frost pushed open the door and walked past the rows of beds to a curtained-off area at the end, near the windows. ‘I’m Inspector Frost,’ he called. ‘Are you decent? If you are, I’ll come back later.’

A young policewoman he didn’t recognise opened the curtains. ‘Come in, Inspector.’

Sally Marsden – pretty, with fair hair, blue eyes and a scrubbed, tear-stained face – was in an armchair by the side of the bed, a blanket draped over her pale-yellow hospital nightdress with DENTON GENERAL HOSPITAL stitched in blue across the chest. She looked a lot younger than her fifteen years.

Frost sat on the bed and pulled out his cigarettes. A warning cough from the WPC made him put them away again ‘Stylish nightdress,’ he said.

The girl gave a weak grin. ‘I keep shaking.’ She held out her quivering arms so he could see.

Frost nodded. sympathetically. ‘Shake away, love. You’ve had a hell of an experience. We’ve got to catch this bastard. If you feel up to it, I want to know everything that happened. Every bloody thing, no matter how unimportant you think it might be.’

Sally pulled the blanket tighter around her shoulders. ‘I’d been with a friend from school, listening to music round her house. I hadn’t realised the time and my mum doesn’t like me staying out late. It was nearly quarter past ten and I’m supposed to be home by ten.’

‘Where does this friend live?’

‘Twenty-nine Kestrel Terrace. I’ve given the police lady the details.’