Death Knocks Twice. Robert Thorogood

      ‘Was there perhaps a scar on his left hand? On his first finger?’

      ‘There was.’

      ‘Then can I see those photos again? And a photo of the scar if you’ve got it?’

      ‘Fidel, bring over all the crime scene photos.’

      Fidel had already scooped them up and was heading over.

      ‘Ms Lefèvre, you might not like what you see,’ he said, but Rosie had already grabbed the photos and started shuffling through them until she found the photo that Dwayne had taken of the long scar on the forefinger of the victim’s left hand.

      ‘Good heavens,’ she murmured to herself, ‘is it you?’

      She then shuffled through the photos again until she was looking at the first photo she’d been shown of the victim’s face.

      ‘You know what, it could be,’ she said to herself.

      ‘It could be who?’ Richard asked, unable to hide the impatience in his voice.

      ‘Someone I’ve not seen in twenty years. That’s why I didn’t recognise him. I just haven’t thought about him for decades…’ Rosie trailed off as she seemed to look inside herself, and Richard saw that she was coming to a decision.