Graham wandered out of her office, remarkably lithe in spite of his frame, carrying his height well. So many tall people stooped, but Pax Graham seemed content to fill the entire corridor. He was a good man. Observant. Perhaps a little too observant for her right now. As for the offers of coffee and drinks, it was hard to remember a time when she’d been so popular. The truth was that the last thing she wanted was to encourage advances from either Rune Maclure or Pax Graham, as attractive and intelligent as they both were. There was only one man she could think about and if she’d been able to wipe her memory clean of all they’d done two nights before, she’d have pressed that button with no hesitation at all.

Callanach picked up the glass of red wine he’d failed to finish the previous night and knocked it back, staring into the empty glassware before sending it flying to connect with the door into his kitchen. The resulting shards flew and skittered into every corner of the lounge. After Ava’s phone call, he’d immediately changed into joggers and a T-shirt, and hit Edinburgh’s streets at a pace that had left every muscle torn to shreds. The pain this morning was a welcome distraction from the fact that he had nowhere to go and nothing to do, except wait for other people to do their jobs so that he could get back to his.

It didn’t help that Ava was right. Continuing to work when there was an active investigation in which he was involved – even as a peripheral witness – was asking for trouble and Ava had found a means to get him out that avoided having to declare his deep loathing of both Jenson and Western. Still, his anger was barely controllable. It seemed that however hard he fought, fate was determined to slap him back down. As if leaving his former life in France wasn’t enough, not to mention his prized career at Interpol, now he had another question mark over his head. There were only so many times your colleagues would accept you were innocent in the face of scandal. Sooner or later it stuck. The worst of it was, his career wasn’t the loss he really cared about any more. He’d screwed up something of much greater value to him.

Retreating to his bathroom, he crashed to the floor and stared into the cupboard where he’d previously hidden Ava’s slate, untouched and largely forgotten. In spite of his attempt to explain what had been going through his mind when he’d taken it, he was only guessing at his motivation. To say he’d been an emotional wreck back then was an understatement.