Anything. Glancing apologetically over her mask, Nicky shook her head. Matthew blew out a frustrated sigh, anger mounting inside him. How? Surely there had to be something? ‘Nothing on the clothes?’ he asked, hoping there might be something there, a hair, a fibre of clothing, body fluids. ‘Nothing substantial,’ the pathologist sighed in turn, probably as frustrated as he felt. ‘Was she’s sexually assaulted?’ Matthew asked, a taut band of tension tightening between his temples. ‘There’s not much in the way of defensive wounding, but—’ ‘Because she was probably too shit-scared to defend herself,’ Matthew cut in furiously. Nicky’s eyes flicked worriedly to his. ‘She did have sexual intercourse,’ she went on, as Matthew tugged agitatedly as his shirt collar. ‘There’s also evidence of bruising so, at this stage I would say there’s a high probability of rape, yes.’ Matthew nodded slowly.
