He picked up his bag, tempted to take a photo of his creation but knowing it was only vanity. Janet was blowing blood out of her nose again with every puffed breath. Lance’s face was turning an unnatural colour. To their credit, they were doing a remarkable job of keeping their legs still while they tried to slacken the bungee that was cutting off their oxygen supply. It wouldn’t last long. As they became more and more oxygen-starved, they’d each lose control. They’d kick, squirm, wriggle and finally thrash, each strangling the other. Then they’d know what a gift life was. They’d learn gratitude with regret.

Rune Maclure scattered a handful of feathers over the two of them, enjoying their glorious struggle, then slung his bag over his shoulder, gun in hand, as he reached for the flat door.

Chapter Forty

18 March

Tripp took the stairs up to Janet’s flat at a fast jog next to Ava.

‘We’ve had confirmation from Maclure’s co-worker that Maclure would have had access to records for anyone helped by the Reach You charity, not just to those patients he personally counselled,’ Tripp told her as he got off his mobile.

‘So he just chose a victim, studied their files, or felt a particular connection to them and struck when he felt the time was right? That doesn’t explain the sudden spate of deaths. Something must have happened to have triggered it.’

‘Not necessarily. One of Maclure’s co-worker’s concerns was how far back this went. Dr Lambert noticed a fraction of a boot mark on Stephen Berry’s finger, indicating that he might have been stamped on to release his grip up at Tantallon Castle, but that was maybe a lucky find. Who’s to say Stephen Berry wasn’t just one of many?’

They rounded the corridor, where a line of officers was waiting silently for Ava to arrive and the operation to start.

‘How many years has he been a counsellor there?’ Ava asked.

‘Several,’ Tripp confirmed. ‘But he’s also done counselling stints at local hospitals, hospices, even schools. His access to the clinically depressed, suicidal and suffering people of Scotland is probably not accurately quantifiable at this stage.’

‘That explains opportunity but not motive,’ Ava said as she nodded greetings to the officers waiting for her. ‘Any theories on that?’

‘Only that at one stage he was found to be self-medicating. He admitted it to a colleague, got help, took voluntary blood tests to show he was clean. It’s quite common among therapists, apparently, to suffer depression at some stage. I guess when you spend your day listening to other people’s problems, it’s hard to go home feeling happy.’

‘How long ago?’ Ava asked.

‘Six or seven months,’ Tripp said, strapping on the protective vest he was handed.

‘Did the co-worker say what drug he was taking?’ Ava asked.