My legs were covered in stuff I couldn’t bear to define; a quick trip to the downstairs toilet meant I could wash my legs. I filled the hand basin with warm water and, perched on one leg, I stuck my right foot into the sink. The water felt warmer than it actually was and stung my cold, scraped skin. Out of the bathroom window I could see the crime-scene boys in the field, struggling to put up their tent. The mud was treacherous and the officers were slipping and sliding as the heavy blue plastic flapped in the wind. The arc lights highlighted the field as the boar roamed around agitatedly, disturbed by the strangers invading his territory.

Someone had made me a cup of hot, strong, sweet tea. I sipped it gingerly and watched as Bancho opened up the computer in the study and scrolled down the history. ‘Farmers fucking dating site,’ he said, clicking on the search engine. I could hear him breathing short and shallow. ‘Well, now we know how the poor bastard met Donna Cook.’ I looked over his shoulder. The home page promised countryside love. If I’d had any tears left, I’d have shed them there and then.

Chapter Sixty-Five

The taxi ride back to Edinburgh was uneventful, but a quick call to the Edinburgh Royal Infirmary to enquire after Joe’s health gave me bad news. Upon regaining consciousness, he had discharged himself. The charge nurse described the idiot who had driven him away–and from that moment Moses Tierney was off my Christmas card list.

The lights were on in Cumberland Street and, as I drew up outside, the door opened and Moses’s face peered round. He’d been watching for me. ‘Before you start,’ he said, stepping out to greet me, trying to cajole me but no doubt seeing the look in my eyes which should have told him everything, ‘you know what a stubborn big bastard he is, and if I hadn’t been prepared to take him he would have walked on his own.’

Louisa joined him on the front step, her twisted frame leaning against the doorjamb. ‘No one could stop him,’ she said. ‘You know that.’ Louisa grabbed my arm, pulling me inside the hall, but there was a desperate look in her eyes that frightened me. Her pupils were dilated, making her eyes great black saucers in her bloodless face. She stared at me, her hand on my arm, preventing me rushing into the bedroom to scold Joe and scoop him up into my arms. ‘Go easy,’ she warned. Louisa had suffered herself, so she recognized the depths of Joe’s pain in a way that I could never pretend to. Her eyes were locked onto mine; she flicked over me, assessing the situation. I slumped back against the wall, almost defeated, and she nodded, releasing her grip.