CHAPTER EIGHTEEN
The woman looked exhausted when Watters carried her into a cell and gently laid her on the thin straw mattress. “Fetch Dr Beaton,” he ordered.
By the time the doctor arrived, the woman was conscious. She sat up on the mattress, felt at the shackles around her ankles and quietly wept.
“Let’s have a look at you,” Beaton said. “It’s all right. I’m not going to hurt you; I’m a doctor.” He glanced at Watters. “Please remove the chains, Sergeant, and leave the room.”
“This woman has caused us considerable trouble, Doctor. The cuffs are to ensure she does not escape.”
Beaton nodded. “I’m aware of that, but she is inside a police cell in the main police office in Dundee. I think she’s sufficiently secure. She’s not Jonathan Sheppard, is she?”
Watters knew that Jonathan Shepp
