“Just you relax,” Logan instructed. “Don’t worry about the case. You just worry about yourself.”

Tyler smiled, but glanced down. “Aye. Right. I’m sure I can manage that OK, boss.” He turned to face the train, but continued all the way around until he’d done a full three-sixty. “You going to be alright on your own?”

“I’ll be fine, Tyler. Just got a couple of things to deal with, then I’ll be heading up the road myself.”

Tyler nodded, turned away, then turned back for a second time.

“You’re not going to do anything stupid, are you, boss?”

Logan gave a reprimanding tut and a shake of his head. “Come on now, son,” he said. “I thought you knew me better than that…?”

* * *

Five minutes later, Tyler sat alone on the train, fist buried in his bag of Quavers, eyes idling on the empty platform beyond the grubby window.

The train was reasonably quiet, and he’d been lucky enough to find a table seat without anyone else sitting at it. There were a couple of reservation tickets on the seats directly opposite, but they were for the Fort William to Mallaig stretch of the journey, and he’d be off before they got on.

He was facing forward, which was a relief. Trains were one of the few modes of transport that didn’t trigger his motion sickness—unless he was facing away from the direction of travel, in which case he’d usually end up spewing for Scotland. Given that the journey was almost four hours long, he hadn’t much fancied the idea of that.

Facing forward, though, with a table all to himself? This was living the dream. Better to be making the journey in the daytime, too. It meant he’d get to see some of the scenery—the rolling landscapes of Rannoch, and Glen Coe, with the deer racing alongside the tracks.

He’d hoped he might be able to get some nice photos, although the film of brown-green muck on the window would likely take the charm off any shots he was able to get.

Still, he’d heard the view on a clear day described as a ‘near-religious experience,’ and he could certainly do with one of those at the moment, photos or no photos.

He placed another Quaver on his tongue and let it fizzle away to nearly nothing. Somewhere, further down the platform, a whistle blew. An engine revved, hydraulics hissed, and Queen Street station started sliding away on the other side of the glass.

Elsewhere in the carriage, above the rumble of the train and the chatter of conversation, a child laughed. It was a hearty giggle, completely unshackled by any thoughts of self-consciousness or embarrassment. Infectious, too. Tyler found himself smiling at the thought of the kid somewhere further along the train car, excited by the adventure that lay ahead.

They were good fun, kids, he thought.