She ran faster, crossed the road, there was more light now, pre-dawn over Salisbury Crags and the glare of the city as they got closer to the clutter of the Old Town. He couldn’t escape and he must know that. He ran away from the golf holes and tried to go up the slope away from the main road but the incline made him lose his footing and fall.

Hannah was fifty yards away, would be on him in a few moments, as he lurched to his feet and took a few steps forwards. She remembered once seeing Schrödinger stalk a sparrow in the garden, when he broke cover and pelted for the bird it just sat there flapping one wing, the other broken, and the cat hesitated, unsure what to do with such an easy kill. Then he ripped its throat out.

‘Dad,’ she said between breaths.

He looked round, kept going forwards but his steps were pitiful, his hand at his chin black with blood dripping onto the grass.

She was twenty yards away.

He turned and looked at her, his body swaying like a skyscraper in an earthquake, and he stopped trying to run or even walk, just stood clutching his rib and his chin, staring at her.

‘Don’t,’ he said.

Hannah stopped a few yards away.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said. His voice was ragged between wheezing breaths.

Hannah shook her head, could feel her hands trembling and tears in her eyes.313

Craig crouched over. He took his hands from his wounds and placed them on his knees. Blood ran down his neck like an oil spill. The front of his shirt was soaked, more blood oozing from below his ribs.

‘You don’t get to be sorry,’ Hannah said.

‘I don’t know what to say.’

Hannah scratched at her wrist, tears down her cheeks. ‘You’re my dad.’

He shook his head. ‘I’m just a man.’

‘She was my friend.’

‘It wasn’t about you.’

Hannah felt bile rise in her throat.

‘You’re my dad,’ she screamed.

Craig looked at her. He seemed unable to focus, his balance wavering. His back bent in slow motion then his legs gave way and he slumped to his knees like he was praying.

‘The worst thing is,’ Hannah said, ‘this isn’t over.’

‘It’s over,’ Craig said after a long pause.

‘No. Mel is dead. Her parents will always be without a daughter.’

‘I didn’t mean any of it.’

Hannah walked towards him.

‘And I will always have a murderer for a dad,’ she said.

She was aware of flashing lights behind her on Melville Drive.

He was on his knees, panting, head down.

She got onto her knees next to him and took hold of his hair. Lifted his head up to look at his face. His skin was waxy and grey, eyes just black holes.

‘I wish you were dead,’ she said.