The boxes containing the Catherine Watson case files were sitting by the front door where Wightman had dropped them off earlier. He bent down and dug around inside until he found what he wanted, then crossed the room to the sofa and sat down. Starting with the photographs of the crime scene, he leafed through until he came to the images of the dead Catherine Watson. She was lying on her back, face up, in some shots covered by a blanket, in others, the blanket had been removed and she lay exposed and naked. Close-ups showed the extent of her injuries: bruising and cuts around her mouth, where it looked as though she had been hit; deep ligature marks at her wrists, ankles and neck where she had been tightly bound at some point while still alive, although there was no sign of the materials used to do this. He was used to seeing such images, but they never failed to affect him, particularly when a child or a woman was the victim. As he gazed at her white, vacant face, noticing the smudges and tear trails of mascara around her eyes, he said a silent prayer for her.
