As I relaxed, Joe released his grip and stood up. The watchers formed a small crowd round us but I didn’t give a fuck about the crowd. I leapt up and wrapped my legs round his waist. Kissing Joe felt like a homecoming. He stroked my hair and tried to stem my tears.

‘Ssssh,’ he said. ‘There’ll be plenty time for that later. Right now we need to follow Marshall. I’ve been tracking him for days; that’s why I disappeared. I thought it was the best way to protect you. I’ve got to look out for you, Brodie–if I can’t do that, I’m nothing.’ Joe held my hand and, crouching down, pulled me back to his white transit van. Jumping into the driver’s seat, he pointed out the window to the chopper. ‘Tell me,’ he said, ‘tell me you weren’t going to follow a psycho like Marshall on that?’ I shrugged and turned my attention to the dashboard where he had a family-sized bag of assorted crisps. I reached out and stuck my nose in the bag. There was one cheese and onion left; it was our favourite flavour. I handed the bag to him; he glanced at it out of the side of his eye.

‘D’you miss me that much?’ Joe asked, and I nodded. Words were stuck in my throat, a squash ball of emotion preventing me saying what I wanted to. It was easier to give him crisps.

He smiled and squeezed my knee. We set off in the direction of the Grassmarket, Marshall three cars ahead. As we drove past his parking spot, I saw Lucky sitting on his own on the pavement, Wee Elvis in the passenger seat of the Mercedes. After that I didn’t bother to watch the road ahead, instead half turning in my seat to look at Joe’s profile. He had lost weight since he was captured by Donna Cook. I wasn’t sure if he wanted to talk about it, but I needed to.

‘What happened with Donna Cook?’ I asked. ‘I mean, Joe, how could you be captured? How did she get you?’ The muscles on his cheeks tightened, his skin paled, and he stared straight ahead. The knuckles on both hands were white and bloodless as he gripped the steering wheel.