“Aye. Train got in a bit early, so I told Sinead I’d meet her at the station,” Tyler explained. “Funny coincidence, boss, I’m sat right next to the driver who took Archie and his family to Glen Coe. He’s literally right beside me now.”

“Christ. Don’t let the bastard out of your sight!” Logan hissed, dropping his voice. “I think it was him. I think he did it.”

Tyler smiled. “Aye, I was just thinking that very same thing boss, as it happens,” he said, radiating counterfeit cheerfulness.

“I’ll phone ahead. Have someone waiting,” Logan told him. “You alright?”

“Hunky-dory, boss,” Tyler said.

“I’ll call you back.”

The line went dead. Tyler looked down at the screen until it went dark, then slipped the phone back into his pocket.

“That the big chief, was it?” Pete asked. They were passing the leisure centre, slowing for the approaching roundabout. “What is he? Detective Inspector?”

“Detective Chief Inspector,” Tyler said.

“Detective Chief Inspector,” Pete said. He whistled quietly. “Big man, is he?”

Tyler frowned. “How do you mean?”

“I mean… is he a big man?” Pete asked. He smiled, but at the same time did not. He took his eyes off the road and fixed them on the DC in the passenger seat. “I thought it was a pretty straightforward question.”

“Um, aye. He is,” Tyler confirmed. The roundabout was dead ahead now. He braced himself for the swing to the left that would point them in the direction of the station.

“Thought so. Big voice,” Pete said. “Fairly carries in a confined space.”

The friendly demeanour he’d been projecting prior to the phone call had fallen away. He’d heard everything, Tyler realised. Every bloody word.

Shite.

“I’m going to have to ask you to pull over, Mr Hill,” Tyler said.

“What? Why? He told you to head to the station, didn’t he? Your boss. That’s what he said, wasn’t it?”

They reached the roundabout, but didn’t take the turning. Instead, horns blared as Pete floored the accelerator, powering the taxi straight over the painted circle in the middle of the junction, and onto the twisting, narrower road that ran alongside the River Nevis.

Thrown back into his seat, it took Tyler a moment to recover enough to bark out an order. “Mr Hill, you’re not doing yourself any favours here. Pull over. Now. Before—”

He saw the elbow coming. Not enough to stop it completely, but enough to deflect the worst of it. It caught him on the side of the head instead of the nose, and he was quietly congratulating himself when there was suddenly a hand in his hair, fingers wrapped up tight in his well-tended locks.

Tyler braced his hands on the dash, stopping his face being forcibly introduced to the plastic. He grabbed for the hand holding his head, but it was no longer there. Instead, it whammed into his ribcage. Once. Twice.