‘I’m cutting down. I’ll do three days a week and give someone else the chance to do the other two. I’ll fly down or take the sleeper; either way I’ll make it work. I’ve spent far too long putting work before my family.’

‘Are you going back to London today?’ Clare asked.

Gaby shook her head. ‘No. My daughter comes home from her school trip tomorrow. I want to be there to see her. I’ll take her out for the day and we’ll have a proper chat. She’ll be upset, you know, about Luke.’

Clare rose from her seat. ‘I’ve kept you long enough. But I do hope it all goes well for you, and your daughter.’

Gaby moved forward and took hold of Clare’s hands. ‘You’ve been such a rock this past week. Would you – will you come and see me when you’re next in London? I’d like to see you again.’

The incident room was being restored to normal when Clare arrived back at the station. With Tony gone she spent most of the day in her office catching up on emails and outstanding tasks.

By four o’clock she’d had enough. The case was more or less tied up with reports prepared for the Procurator Fiscal and she decided to finish early. She sought out Chris and found him and Sara poring over kitchen brochures. Sara hurriedly shut them and put them in a drawer, but Clare waved this away. ‘We’ve all been working like donkeys this past week. Enjoy a bit of downtime while you have it.’

‘You heading off home, boss?’ Sara said.

‘Yeah. Home to relax. Unless anything else comes up I’ll be back in tomorrow morning.’

She left them to their domestic plans and went out to the car. It was a lovely afternoon but the sun was lower in the sky now, summer turning to autumn. As she drove home, her pace more leisurely than usual, she admired the gardens in the Bogward Estate, filled with late summer favourites. The trees on the Craigtoun road were in full leaf and she drove on through dappled shade. At Daisy Cottage she could hear the sounds of Benjy in the garden and, instead of going in through the front door, she pushed open the gate and walked round to the back of the house. DCI Gibson was down on his hands and knees, weeding the border while Benjy chewed a toy rabbit, shaking it from time to time in a misguided attempt to stun it. The DCI rose when he saw her, dusting soil off his hands. She moved forward and held out a hand, taking hold of his muddy one.

‘Sorry, Al. I was horrible last night.’

He smiled. ‘Of course you weren’t. But there is something wrong, isn’t there?’

She hesitated. ‘Fancy a drink? I’ve some cloudy lemonade in the fridge.’