‘Look, this Twitter debacle is like health insurance for me. I’ve been all over the web, and the newspapers. I’m connected to Gill. So is Rhona. She’s been killed in a so-called random attack. If something happens to me, it’s going to look a lot less random. It’s going to point a finger at Gill. I’m not going to take any stupid risks. But I reckon he needs me alive.’

‘Assuming that’s how he thinks. The guy’s a psychopath, remember? Arrogant. Egotistical. Above the law. As far as he’s concerned, normal rules don’t apply to him. By the time he figures out they actually do, you might be dead.’

‘Okay. That is a good point,’ I conceded.

‘Which you’re going to take no notice of.’

‘I promise that if I find myself straying into territory that might be part of the criminal case, I’ll call you immediately. And I’ll back off, for definite.’

Sadie sighed.

‘Remind me why we’re friends again? I’ve forgotten.’

‘Sadie,’ I said. ‘Rhona’s death … her murder … I have blood on my hands. Not literally, I know. What I mean is, it’s my fault.’

‘Oh, Finn. It is not your fault. It’s whoever killed her, it’s their fault.’

‘Gill.’

‘It might be. But whether it’s Gill or someone else …’

‘I can’t help thinking that, if I hadn’t started all this, she’d still be alive.’

‘Maybe she would, and maybe she wouldn’t. It’s terrible that she’s dead. It’s an awful thing. But you didn’t kill her.’

‘That’s all well and good,’ I said. ‘I didn’t wield the actual weapon. Doesn’t matter. I’m the one responsible.’

‘You’re not. Look, I understand where you’re coming from. It goes with the territory. At home at night, if I’m on my own, if Jack’s out, or working late, I’ve got dead bodies piling up around me, fighting for room on the couch. The people I could’ve saved. If I’d done my job right. If I’d been a bit faster. A bit cleverer. A bit some fucking thing that I’m not. This one woman, though.’

Sadie stood up from the table, and walked to the kitchen island.