‘I want him arrested!’ Professor Marks sat on the edge of a black leather armchair, a wad of damp paper towels pressed against his bottom jaw. His hair was little more than a memory, clinging in grey wisps around a shiny bald head. Big gold-framed glasses covered in fingerprints. No chin. His face just sagged its way down into his neck. Goulding was right: the man looked like a sausage. ‘You’re finished at this institution, do you hear me? Finished!’

Goulding stood with his back to the window, arms crossed, eyes narrowed. His right cheek was swollen, the skin shiny, already beginning to darken into a bruise. ‘Shut up, and tell them what you told me.’

‘Coming into my office, shouting the odds—’

‘You knew she was dangerous!’

Logan massaged his temples. ‘Is this really—’

‘He attacked me!’

Goulding took a step towards Professor Marks. ‘I’ll knock your bloody head off, you unprofessional git; she killed Roy Forman!’

‘You can’t know that it’s—’

‘Do you have any idea how much time and effort I put into fixing Roy? And you just set your pet psycho loose to kill him!’

Prof. Marks opened his mouth and ran a pale-yellow tongue across his premolars. ‘You chipped my tooth. I should sue you.’

‘I’ll do more than—’

Logan slammed his hand down on the desk. ‘All right, enough!’

Silence.

Goulding settled back against the windowsill again. ‘Tell him what you told me, Marks, or I swear to God. . .’

The professor cleared his throat, shuffled in his seat, looked away. ‘Doctor-patient confidentiality prohibits me from—’

‘He’s been in touch with her, since she went missing. He’s talked to her.’

Professor Marks stared at him. ‘I told you that in strictest confidence! You can’t breach—’

‘Oh grow up. I’m not bound by doctor-patient confidentiality; she’s not my patient. If she was, she wouldn’t be out there necklacing poor bastards who fought for their country!’

Logan glanced over at Chalmers. She sat on the chaise longue, scribbling away in her notebook. Good. ‘We’ve got a warrant on the way. Soon as that gets here, you’re either going to talk to us, or we’re going to arrest you for obstruction, drag you down to the station, and throw you in a cell.’

‘You can’t do that. I’m the victim here, it’s this violent Scouse—’

‘And tomorrow morning, you’ll go up in front of the Sheriff and he’ll send you off to Craiginches till you decide to cooperate.’

Marks licked his lips. ‘You. . . I’m a doctor, I can’t just—’

‘And meanwhile, Agnes Garfield is out there,’ Logan stabbed a finger at the window, ‘killing people! Do you really want to be responsible for another death? ’

‘I’m not responsible for anyone’s death. Whatever happened to Roy Forman wasn’t a result of my actions. If Agnes—’