He brought the folder closer. The image of Evans wasn’t good, and he couldn’t really make out the features of the man. He noted the report was over two years old. He turned the page to where a far better image peered out at him. This one was taken straight on. Almost like a mugshot the police might take. The man looked sullen, his thick lips only slightly curled up at the edges. The broad shoulders were there, as was the brown hair swept neatly to one side. He could see piercing green eyes below the fringe and a ragged nick on his left ear, like a piece had been torn off.

There were more pages. Richard could barely work his hands to turn them. He could feel his body being overcome with hate. It stood him straight, locked his jaw rigid and sucked the air from his lungs. His cheeks and brow ached where his face was held in a permanent scowl. The next page was another text message. This one was out on its own, out of any context, sent by ‘Danny E’. But Richard didn’t need any context. The words had everything he needed to understand:

Danny E: Too right, why should I go down for some dopey old bint. Ain’t like anyone’s gonna miss her anyway! Reckon I did her a favour. Quick and easy. Maybe I could offer a service!

There were more typed words under the message. He couldn’t read them, not straightaway. His vision was gone, his heartbeat now a jack hammer. and for a moment he thought his breath wasn’t going to come back. He was back leaning on the table but he still felt dizzy. He took his time. He put the folder down flat and traced the words of the single typed sentence underneath with his finger. He had to do it twice before they sunk in:

The box on the chair. Then Room 2.13. Pay it forward.