‘This was taken from a camera mounted above the entrance of the Uniting Church on Bay Street,’ she said. ‘They had it installed to catch whoever was letting their dog take its evening dump on their entranceway. It’s mounted on a weird angle but gives a clear view across the street to the car park outside the Buy & Bye.’

‘That supermarket’s still there?’ Fisher asked.

‘Yeah, it is.’ Kate said. Kate knew the Buy & Bye well. It was quaint and overpriced, with a small toy section that Mia loved to browse. The pair of them would do all the family shopping there during the summer, a good excuse to get out of the house so John could enjoy some quiet reading.

She leaned forward to look at the picture. It showed an unsealed car park and the brick wall of the church. Beyond that, John could once again be seen. This time he was leaving the supermarket, two stuffed shopping bags in his hands. In this photo, John’s face was directly in line with the camera. His brow didn’t look heavy with worry or etched with concern. His face was blank, his expression unreadable.

‘There are no cameras inside the store, but we’re almost certain he only went there twice. The first was the day he arrived, to purchase…’ She paused, reached into the document folder, and produced a photocopied receipt. Reading from it, she continued, ‘Bread, milk, some canned meats and vegetables, some bottled water, extension cord, two power boards, batteries, a wind-up torch and some chocolate.’

‘Sounds like he was stocking up,’ Kate said.

Nodding, Eckman continued. ‘He visited the store again on what we believe is the day he died, where he bought the groceries you found at the house.’

Fisher, who had helped himself to the third photo Eckman had left on the desk, asked, ‘Who is this man?’

He passed the picture to Kate. It was of two men standing on a dilapidated old verandah, taken from what must have been a home security camera. The first man in the photo was John. In this one he was smiling, which filled Kate with hot rage. Even in the midst of all his deception, he had the nerve to smile. Smile. His face was suddenly unfamiliar, she realised. Fisher could just as easily have been talking about John when he asked, Who is this man?

The other man in the picture – the one Fisher was jamming a finger at – was barrel-chested with short, meaty arms. His back was partially to the camera, revealing a prominent bald spot in a nest of thick hair. The men stood on an unkempt lawn scattered with old car parts, a rusted-out barbecue and a couple of overturned oil drums.