A favour for Wee Hamish Mowat. It wasn’t as if he’d be doing anything wrong, would it? The McLeods and the farmers were breaking the law. Both sets needed taking off the streets. Just because it was in Wee Hamish’s best interests to see it all come to a sudden halt, it didn’t mean it wasn’t the right thing to do.

And besides, it would hardly be the first time.

‘Logan? Are you still there? ’

‘I can’t do anything without evidence. I need photographs, locations of these cannabis farms, someone willing to testify in court. Proof.’

‘Of course you do. I wouldn’t have it any other way.’

Logan put the phone back in his pocket.

Off in the distance came a soft crack, followed by the muted bellow of thunder. Getting colder. The skies lowered and the rain hammered down.

Chapter 33

33

‘I told you: I am not prepared to breach doctor—’

‘Patient confidentiality. Can you no’ change the record, Doc? This one’s like listening to paint dry.’ If DCI Steel slouched any further down in her chair, she’d disappear under the table.

On the other side, sitting in the full glare of the camera mounted on the interview-room wall, Dr Marks stuck his nose in the air. The bruise on his cheek was colouring in nicely, heading to a deep violet, giving a bit of life to his jumbo sausage features. ‘If you don’t like hearing it, stop asking.’

Logan opened DI Leith’s folder of photographs and laid a glossy eight-by-ten of Roy Forman’s fire-ravaged skull on the table. Then another one. Then one where the tyre was still burning. ‘Agnes Garfield did this.’

The psychologist shrank back in his chair. Looking anywhere but at the photos. ‘I don’t see what this is supposed to achieve. Did you really think I’d be prepared to abandon my professional ethics just because you show me these? Do you honestly believe I got where I am without recognizing blatant manipu-lation when I see it? ’

A sniff, then Steel jabbed a finger at him. ‘You’ll sodding well know the toe of my boot when you see it. Aye, and it’ll be coming out of your gob after I ram it up your arsehole.’

Dr Marks took off his big gold-framed glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. ‘Genuinely: if you’re going to resort to threats, try to do it in a way that actually connects to the person you’re threatening. So far all you’ve done is reveal an anal fixation that borders on the manic.’

‘I’m no’—’