Chapter Three
Mary Carmody still hadn’t rung him by mid-afternoon. Nor had Abra. Though, obviously, Rafferty had rung her a few times. She’d snapped at him the last time he rang, he reflected ruefully. He was beginning to think he was never destined to be a daddy.
‘Can you get his picture off to the Drug Squad, Dafyd? I know it’s a long shot. But they might recognise him. By the look of his arms, he must have been a regular customer of theirs at one time.’
Llewellyn nodded and turned back to his screen.
Rafferty mused on what the baby would look like when it finally deigned to arrive, and that, in turn, caused him to think about another face. That of the corpse. That faint feeling of familiarity still clung to him as determinedly as ghostly fingers, and once again he ran through his mi
