Running her fingers over the rough surface of the slate, she recalled her father’s face when he’d given it to her. It was a sweet gift, innocent. The very definition of a treasure.

‘Ava, it all happened such a long time ago. When I first joined Police Scotland and you got me into line, forced me to accept a friend. Then you were abducted with the other women and I had no idea if you were alive or dead. I felt responsible. I was a wreck. I visited your house to make sure we hadn’t missed something or to see if there were signs of a struggle. While I was there, I accepted the truth about what had happened to you. I was at a low point. The squad was making no progress with the case. We had no way of knowing where you’d been taken. The items I took were just a way of maintaining emotional contact, of figuring out where you might be …’

‘What do you mean?’ Ava frowned at him.

‘There was a void in me after I left France – it was hard to feel anything at all – so I suppose I was looking for an attachment …’

‘No, not that. I get that’s how you’re justifying this, but you said items. Plural.’

Callanach stared at the bottom shelf of his bathroom cupboard. The day Ava was kidnapped during a case the previous year could have been yesterday. Still just as raw. When he’d taken the slate from her flat, it was meant to be a temporary thing. Even then he wasn’t sure why he’d done it.

Ava leaned forwards, pulling any remaining items in her way from the shelf onto the floor. A couple of bottles smashed and cotton buds stuck in the viscous liquid spreading around her knees. Finally, reaching to the very back, she drew out a paperweight and a globe keyring.

‘These had better not be what I think they are,’ Ava said, her voice pitched at a dangerous level of quiet.

‘You don’t understand.’

‘You sound surprised about that. You think I should be more understanding about what I’m holding in my hands? Psychopaths take trophies, Luc, not police officers. These things belong to victims, women who were kidnapped and tortured. What exactly did this paperweight tell you about the crime and how to solve it?’ She stood up, still naked, hands on hips, purple-faced.

‘I’m not going to pretend it made sense. Please, come back to bed, let’s talk about this calmly.’

‘Are you fucking kidding? You want to talk about this calmly? Do you have any idea how badly you’ve invaded my privacy and broken my trust?’

‘While you were being held captive, it was the closest I could get …’

‘How many times have you been to my house since then? You’ve had endless opportunities to return it to me.’

‘It wasn’t that easy.’