‘Lansing, let’s get this up on the screen so everyone can see it.’ Harper stood up and addressed the room. ‘It looks like we’ve found the guy who dropped off the package this morning.’ He nodded towards Lansing, who tapped a key on his laptop and sent the media file to the computer linked to a thin screen in the centre of the investigations room. ‘I want you to study it carefully and see if anything jumps out at you.’

The fifteen-second sequence played itself out in front of the audience of investigators. Curtis was the first to speak.

‘I know we can’t see much of his face, because of the angle of the security camera, but I would say from the way his baseball cap is pulled low over his face that he’s definitely hiding something. There’s also something odd about the way he’s holding himself.’

‘Okay – Lansing – put it on repeat. And watch carefully. I agree, there’s something about the man’s posture that doesn’t seem right to me. Lansing, can you zoom in on the suspect’s face when he hands over the package?’

As Lansing pressed another sequence of keys the grainy image started to break up into pixels.

‘Is there any way of improving the quality?’ asked Harper.

‘Let me try and stream it through a program. Hold on. Here. This should do it.’

The sequence started again, but this time the images appeared sharper, more defined. The suspect walked into the office, and over to the desk. He started to lift up his right hand.

‘Okay, if you can focus in - ,’ said Harper. ‘Now.’

The lower potion of the man’s face came clearly into view.

‘Look at his mouth,’ said Holt. ‘Is he trying to say something?’

‘Could be. But I think he’s grimacing,’ said Curtis.

‘Exactly. Like he’s in pain,’ said Harper. ‘Lansing – shift the focus to his hands.’

Lansing moved the mouse on the laptop and tapped another key. The suspect’s gloved hand – his right one - came into focus.

‘He starts to lift his right hand – grimaces, stops – and then transfers the package to his left hand. He grimaces again.’

‘But that package can’t have weighed more than a few ounces,’ said Holt.

‘You don’t think –‘ said Curtis.

‘That he’s the owner of what was inside the envelope?’ said Lansing.

‘That’s exactly what I’m thinking,’ said Harper. He turned to Helen. ‘Get the lab on the line. Now. Even if they haven’t finished the DNA analysis they might be able to tell me -’

‘Whether the digits are from the right hand, left hand - ’said Curtis.

‘Helen,’ said Curtis. ‘Put Reeves on the speaker.’

Helen dialled the lab and informed Reeves, the forensics officer, that Harper wanted to talk to him about the fingertips.

‘I am right in saying that it’s possible to determine which hand those fingertips are from?’

‘One has to examine the shape of the fingers and the whorl pattern,’ he said. ‘You look at the direction of the flow of the apex ridges, the rotation of centrally circular ridges, the angles between the delta and the core and –‘

‘Sorry Reeves, all I need to know is which hand they are from.’

‘Let me look at the preliminary report. Yes, here we are.’ He went quiet for a few seconds. ‘What I can tell you at this stage is that one of the digits is from the right hand and the other is from the left.’

‘And the DNA analysis?’

‘It will be with you by close of play today.’

‘Thanks, Reeves. We’ll talk later.’

‘But why would this guy – whoever he is,’ said Helen, cutting the line, ‘deliver a package containing two of his own fingerprints to you?’

‘He could be a psycho, someone who’s read one of Cynthia Ross’s stories,’ said Lansing.

‘Or he could be being used like some kind of pawn in a sick game,’ said Curtis.

‘But if someone had done this to him why wouldn’t he just ask for help?’ said Harper. ‘After all, he was on our doorstep. He walked into here, into the Parker Center, for fuck’s sake.’ He paused. ‘But if he was compromised in some way? If someone had some information on him that he didn’t want us to know about? He could be being played with just as –‘

Just then his cell rang. It was Kate.

‘Sorry, I better take this.’ He turned his back to his team.

‘How’s Cassie?’

‘She’ll be fine. I left her at the hospital. She’s sleeping.’

‘Have you finished?’

She hesitated.

‘Do you have anything?’

‘Sure do,’ said Kate, her voice breaking. ‘And - it’s really weird.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘I’ll tell you when you get here. I’m at the beach house. In the dark room.’

‘What is it?’

‘You need to see something.’

‘Kate. What’s wrong?’

‘Our worst fears come true.’

50

Kate opened the door looking ashen-faced.

‘This way,’ she said, wiping the last traces of clay off her hands with a rag. ‘Follow me.’

Josh walked in silence towards the dark room.

‘I’ve just finished. It’s still wet, and a bit unpolished, but – well, you’ll see.’

The metal trough that ran down one side of the room was streaked with smears of clay. On one of the trestle tables lay a selection of disfigured heads, incomplete studies with grotesque profiles and distorted features.

‘As you can see I’m a bit out of practice,’ she said, gesturing towards the maquettes, ‘but with Cassie’s help I got there. But God knows, I hope she’s wrong. Maybe her brain is scrambled and she’s describing –‘

Josh looked towards one of the models on a stand, covered in a damp towel.

‘Kate – let me see.’

She walked towards the sculpture and slowly removed the cloth. A head, modelled from clay, stared out at them; a head with the same square jawline, the same high forehead as Gleason’s.

‘But it can’t be –‘ said Josh.

‘I know, I know.’