The bed was still flat, the patient staring towards the ceiling. She moved her eyes, blinking a few times as she focused on the new arrivals. Her lips were moist, as though she’d just accepted some liquid from the beaker on the nearby tray. Her father was seated again, holding her hand as before.

“Jessica,” Clarke began, “I’m Detective Inspector Clarke and this is Detective Sergeant Rebus. How are you feeling, or is that a stupid question?”

“Like I got hit by a car.”

“I saw the state of your Golf. The airbag probably saved your life. Silly not to have your seat belt fastened.”

Traynor stiffened as he took this in. Jessica’s eyes widened. “I always do up my seat belt,” she protested.

“The motorist who found you, the one who called for the cavalry, says you weren’t strapped in.”

“Couldn’t it have come undone on impact?” Traynor asked.

“I’ve not heard of that happening,” Clarke told him. Then, to his daughter: “Any idea why one of your boots ended up on the passenger-side floor?”

“I don’t understand.” Jessica Traynor’s eyes flitted from one face to another.

“There you are in the driver’s seat,” Clarke obliged, “but one of your Uggs somehow lands the other side of the central console. Again, it’s something I’ve not come across before.”

Her father leaned in towards her. “The officers were asking me earlier if someone was maybe driving too fast behind you, causing you to do what you did.”

“I don’t know what happened.” Tears were filling Jessica Traynor’s eyes.

“Was there some sort of race going on?” Clarke asked. “Maybe you got in the way and they forced you off the road?”

“No…”

Traynor had risen from his chair. His daughter had her eyes screwed shut and he was asking her if she was in pain.

“I don’t want to think about it,” she told him. “I don’t want to remember any of it. The car went off the road, that’s all.”

With her hand still in his, Traynor turned towards the two detectives. “Probably best if you leave now. Give her some time to recover.” His eyes told them he would brook no argument. But still Clarke lingered. It was Rebus, however, who spoke.

“We just need Jessica’s address here in Edinburgh.”

“Why?” The question came from the bed. Jessica had balled her free hand into a fist. Her eyes were still closed but her face looked pained.

“We just do,” Clarke said.

Traynor gestured towards the corridor. “Jessica,” he said, “just try and relax. I’m going to show the officers out.”

“I still don’t understand why they’re here.”

“They’re leaving right now.” He gave her wrist a final squeeze, then let it go, extending an arm to indicate to Rebus that he should lead the way.