Chapter 101: The Virgin And The Masters, Part 12, ID

CHARLOTTE

I look through endless photos, some in old books, some on databases. I flick pages, click websites; weary of seeing blue eyes, brown eyes, scars, black hair, long beards, goatee beards, clean-shaven, bald, sharp-eyed, dull; hundreds of them. On the laptop, I set the gallery of strangers to ´Slideshow´ and let it simply play, one face after another, flicking past every few seconds.

Michael comes in, bearing a tray of mugs. "Coffee?"

"Oh, lovely. Yes, thanks."

He peers over my shoulder. "Nothing?"

"Nope. I´m not even sure now, I would recognise someone I knew. It was so long ago. I was just a kid, and... and I think I´m going blind looking at this lot."

"Is it just random strangers they´re showing you?"

"I don´t think so. I think they´re suspects in people trafficking cases, but there´s so many of them."

Something familiar flashes by my peripheral vision, and my head pivots back to the screen. "Whoa..."

I stab at the keyboard, reversing the slideshow. What did