Discretion being the better part of valour, Rebus retreated to his car. He decided Oram would be watching for it, so he made sure his headlights were on as he drove past the top of the lane. He took a right when he could, then another, doubling back on himself. This time he parked a hundred yards short of the lock-ups, again closing the door as quietly as he could. He wouldn’t exactly call it tiptoeing, but he kept his footsteps light.

The garage next to the van had been unlocked. Rebus could hear someone inside; sounded as if they were rifling through boxes of screws or nails. A light had been switched on, and music too – a dull, repetitive thump such as he heard from car and van windows a dozen times a day in the city. Tommy Oram was standing sideways on, busy at a row of shelves, each one containing boxes and trays filled with the bits and pieces he needed to do his job.

Rebus saw, however, that there was more to the lock-up than mere storage. A camp bed had been unfolded, a duvet draped across its thin mattress. There was a lamp next to it and a compact music system next to that, everything plugged into an extension cable that stretched to the wall.

Sensing movement, Oram’s head jerked round.

‘Get out!’ he barked.

‘In a minute,’ Rebus said, settling himself on the bed and switching the music off. ‘This where he sleeps?’

‘It’s where I sleep.’

‘No, Tommy, you sleep in your own bed under your mum’s roof.’ Rebus angled his head. There were discarded fast-food wrappers under the bed alongside a drained bottle of whisky. ‘Will he be back soon?’

When he spoke, the fight had gone out of the young man’s voice. ‘I told you, he’s gone. He was here, but not any more.’

‘What happened?’

‘He just left. Couldn’t bring himself to …’ His voice had thickened. He cleared his throat and swallowed. Rebus saw it all in an instant: how hard it was to lose your father in your teens, how hard to then start dealing with his sudden return.

‘What?’ he prompted.

‘He wanted Mum to know without either of us having to tell her. Don’t ask me why – I think he thought it would soften the impact.’

‘Might explain why he was hanging around Craigmillar. How long have you known?’

‘He phoned me last year, said he was missing us. He wanted to hear how we were doing.’

‘Up until then you thought he was …?’

Tommy nodded.

‘That must’ve been hard, son.’

‘Too right.’

‘Why didn’t you tell your mum?’

‘He made me promise not to. He wanted to get himself straightened out.’

‘Meaning off the booze?’

‘Aye. Last few years he’s been hitting it pretty hard.’