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"Please," Tellison said. "Catherine."
Photography! Zachariah thought. They needed photography!
It was the neck, Zachariah thought.
"Catherine!" Tellison said.
None of them had listened, he thought. None of them!
And he was, seemed to be, seemed to be blaming her, Zachariah thought.
"Maybe -- maybe take," Humber asked, "Take another?"
The mother! Blaming her though! he thought.
"It's the angle," Cathy said.
He was not, he wasn't sure, he imagined. Still, though; still--the mother! he thought.
"Let's," Humber agreed, "let's change our -- the angle."
Zachariah imagined Tellison. Tellison.
"I think, it's," Cathy said, "it's, it's the," she said, "I think the, the angle, it's the angle."
Tellison, Zachariah imagined. He was using these Tellison implements.
The asshole! Zachariah would say. The, the fuck! he'd say.
"Catherine?" Tellison said.
"Take responsibility, Catherine," Tellison said. "For God's sake, Catherine."
Tellison said, "I mean it's, I mean it's, It's your son, Catherine."
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