‘When that was ready, I began to attach the markers and the eyeballs. Next, I will start to build muscle up to the marker lines,’ Dr Forrester said.

‘How do you know where the marker lines are?’ Adrian said.

‘There’s a lot of measuring and maths involved, plus decades of research and other people’s work to pull from. We measure the skull and construct markers of varying depths, which we place in specific points on the skull that will in turn guide us when creating the flesh and muscles out of clay.

‘We already have more to work on than usual, because the actual skull is still … well, fleshy. The eyeball that I have just inserted is on a bed of clay to bring it to the right depth, which is where the flat part of the front of the eye is flush with the socket around it. Next, I will be adding clay to the chin and jaw. Then I fill the spaces in between the markers and smooth it all out until we have a face. You are welcome to stay and watch.’

‘Thanks, Doc,’ Adrian said. ‘When do you think he will be ready?’

‘Give me ’til the end of the day. If I work through, I should have it done.’

Adrian and Imogen stood and watched as Dr Forrester rolled the clay carefully into tiny balls and placed each one in between the markers on the face – small foam tubes of varying lengths. He started on the jawbone, filling the space slowly with the small lumps of clay until they reached the required height, then he smoothed it over until you could barely see the markers anymore.

Adrian would have loved to stay and watch the man work all day, but they had to go and speak to the woman again. All this could be completely unnecessary. She might change her mind and give them the name of the man whose body they found floating in the River Exe. Even as he thought it to himself, he knew it wouldn’t be that easy. Whoever had hurt the woman had scared her enough to keep her mouth shut. Nothing they could say would change that. They had to keep trying, though. Someone was missing this man and they deserved to know the truth.

Chapter Fourteen

They were soon back at the hospital. Imogen had grown to hate this place: the smell, the noise, everything about it set her on edge. She had been here too many times already, not only with her own injuries, but also visiting Adrian, victims, witnesses. She had never been to hospital for a happy occasion. She didn’t have many friends, certainly none who were interested in having babies, and given her history, she wasn’t sure she would be that happy in that situation, anyway.