It was almost dinner time and today had been a wipeout of police interviews, a few drinks and then the odd thing in the alley.First I went down to the foyer and unlocked my post box. The package was there, still wrapped in my scarf, and I tucked it inside my jacket for the ride back upstairs.Once inside again, I sat it on the coffee table and called Caro.“Where the hell have you been?” she snapped. “I’ve been worried sick since you hung up on me.”“Ummm… Stuff… to deal with…”“Where are you?”“Home.”“Stay there, I’m coming around.”“No, Caro. Caro…?”Crap.I went into my bedroom and tucked the camera into one of my spare work boots in the bottom of my cupboard. As an afterthought, I pulled the bedcovers up and washed the extra tea mug. Caro had an eye for detail that made me nervous.By the time she arrived, I was scanning tattoo sites on my tablet.She followed me around the body outline back to the couch.“I think we should make up a name for him,” she said.“He had a name.
