THE PHOTOGRAPHS WERE of Clive Barstaple and looked as though they had been taken from outside his bedroom window; Rafferty could just detect what looked like a window frame and the edge of a curtain.
Barstaple was dressed up in the bondage gear that Lilley had found, but there was no doubt it was him. His face in the first snap was turned away from the camera, but each succeeding shot showed it turning further towards it as if someone had tapped on the glass to gain his attention. The last shot showed him full face, his expression startled and the beginnings of fear in his eyes.
Rafferty checked the envelope. The postmark was smeared, but he was able to make out that it was a local one. ‘There was no message with these?’ he asked Plumley.
‘None was necessary, was it?’ Plumley replied. ‘
