Perez must have picked up the voicemail, because he arrived at Hvidahus at the same time as Sandy. Sandy recognized his car, driving down the bank towards the water ahead of him, and felt a dizzying sense of relief. Jimmy Perez, not quite himself and a little bit mad, was better than no Jimmy Perez at all. In the big white house where the Walshes lived the curtains were drawn.

There was no natural light at all left now, and the grey drizzle formed a halo around the one street light at the pier. Perez opened his boot and brought out a torch, then walked over to meet Sandy. Joe Sinclair had disappeared. Sandy imagined the harbour master, warm and fed, watching television with his wife, with a can of beer in one hand.

‘So what do you think has happened here, Sandy?’ The inspector was already walking quickly along the stone pier towards the boat. Sandy had hoped that Perez would tell him, but now he was forced to consider the matter. He hurried after the inspector.

‘Maybe she’s done a runner? She thought we’d be watching out for her car and brought the boat here, arranged for a taxi to meet her perhaps, then went south to the airport. It’s pure chance that Joe Sinclair came along.’

Perez had reached the mooring of the Marie-Louise and stopped suddenly. ‘Is that what Willow Reeves thinks?’

‘She thought right from the beginning that Rhona was involved in this case.’ The pier was wet and Sandy walked slowly. The last thing he wanted was to slip and end up in the freezing water.

‘So she did,’ Perez said. ‘And it looks as if she was right all along.’

It sounded as if he was talking to himself and Sandy didn’t like to ask what he meant.

Perez shone his torch towards the vessel and then stepped aboard onto the narrow deck in the bow. Sandy stayed where he was. It might be a fancy yacht, but still there wasn’t much room and, if the boat turned out to have been used in a crime, the last thing the CSIs would want would be his feet all over it. Perez stood for a moment. He seemed to be listening. His dark face was caught in the torchlight and looked all shadows. Then, without a word, he disappeared below. For a moment all Sandy could hear was the water against the jetty and the wind making the wires sing. Torchlight seeped through the hatch. He wanted to shout to Perez: Well? What have you found? But the inspector had never liked it when Sandy was impatient, so he stood feeling the damp on his skin and reaching through to his bones. And feeling tense, he had to admit. He’d never been good at waiting.

At last Perez emerged from below. He stood with only his head and shoulders visible.