The December morning was raw and overcast, and by the time Rafferty arrived, the uniformed branch had stationed officers with torches at strategic points along the lonely, little used lane. Rafferty turned the last corner, and before he doused his headlights, they picked out Lilley's fair hair and pale face. The young officer, recognising the car, hurried forward. 'It's Smith, sir, I'm sure of it,' he told Rafferty as Rafferty climbed out of the car. Rafferty nodded. He got into his protective gear as Lilley repeated what Smales had already told him. 'Let's have the mug-shot,' he said. Lilley gave it to him, and, after Rafferty had given his name to the officer recording each arrival, he guided him eagerly along the taped off route. Like before, when Lilley had accompanied him to the sce