‘Won’t be long,’ the workmate said. His partner was already more interested in the damage to the front of his van.

‘Better be insured,’ Clarke heard him repeat under his breath while the workmate shook his head in what looked to Clarke a lot like an apology.

‘Get away from me,’ Cheryl Haggard was telling her sister, though the earlier venom had been drawn out of her. ‘I don’t want to see you, I don’t want to talk to you.’

‘It was one time, Cher. One lousy stupid time.’

Esson saw the slip of paper Clarke was holding out towards her. She took it, and eventually turned it over, noting the words scrawled there in ballpoint pen. An address on Constitution Street. A time: 10 tonight. And an unsigned warning: Or else.

Clarke took a step towards her. ‘Walked to the house from the taxi. Scrambled over the gate. Left it where she’d see it. She knew then what she had to do.’

Stephanie Pelham turned towards them. Esson held up the withdrawal slip for her to see. The wine glass dropped to the roadway as Pelham screwed shut her eyes, as if hoping to block out what was to come. Her eyes were still closed as Siobhan Clarke began the process of placing her under arrest.

Clarke insisted that Christine Esson be in charge of taking Stephanie Pelham’s statement. In the interview room next door, Chris Agnew filled in most of the gaps. Fox and Tess Leighton had sat with him, Fox trying to cajole a few nuggets from him about the workings at Tynecastle. Cheryl would be kept in hospital overnight for observation – miraculously they’d found bed space for her. Clarke had asked Gina Hendry to go sit with her, and Hendry had been glad to help. She’d listened as Clarke had sketched out the story.

‘She’s lost everything,’ she’d said afterwards.

‘They both have.’ Clarke just hoped Cheryl had the strength to get through it.

When her phone rang again, it was Ronnie Ogilvie. ‘We’re another step closer,’ he said. ‘Teenager on his way home from his girlfriend’s place. He lives one street over from Laura. Saw the Range Rover tearing away. Driver had his window down. He was pulling off a black balaclava and our witness got a good view of him. He’s given me the description, and I’m pretty sure if I put Gareth Crosbie in a line-up, we’ll get a match.’

‘That’s good, Ronnie.’

‘Geoff Dickinson is on his way here from Gartcosh. He reckons this is the breakthrough he’s been looking for.’

‘Make sure he gives you the credit.’

‘You sound tired, Siobhan.’

‘Do I? Maybe I am.’