“Did you tell Gregor, or did he somehow work it out? Maybe back when you were kids he saw the warning signs.”

“What signs?”

“Pulling the legs off frogs maybe; tying fireworks to the tails of cats and dogs…”

Magrath shook his head. “That’s not me—go ask him.”

“Maybe I will. It’s about time he got this off his conscience. Same with your wife.”

“You leave Maggie out of this!”

“Bit late for that.”

“So help me I’ll…” Magrath was just about keeping his rage in check. When he took a deep breath and exhaled, it sounded like a growl. Rebus stood his ground, awaiting the man’s next move. Magrath seemed to consider his options, and ended up turning away, striding towards his parked van.

“Where are you going, Kenny?”

No answer.

“You were in Pitlochry, weren’t you?”

Magrath was getting into the van, avoiding eye contact. Rebus walked towards him slowly. The key was turned in the ignition; Magrath commenced a three-point turn. A minibus coming around the corner from the direction of Cromarty had to brake hard to avoid crashing into him. There were a handful of schoolkids in the back. The driver sounded his horn, but Magrath ignored him, the van roaring off in the direction of Fortrose. Rebus lit a breakfast cigarette and decided he’d done what he could. Two minutes later he was parking outside Gregor Magrath’s cottage. The wind had dropped and there were the usual dog walkers on the beach. Rebus caught a glimpse of something out to sea that could have been a dolphin or a seal. He thumped on Magrath’s door and waited. Magrath came out to the porch and studied Rebus through the window.

“We need to talk about your brother,” Rebus called out to him.

The man shook his head slowly.

“Did you move here to stop him? If so, you did a piss-poor job.”

“Go away,” Magrath said.

“It was all right for the first year or so, but after that…”

“Go away!” Magrath was shouting now.

“It’s all ending, Gregor,” Rebus persisted. “Surely you can see that. Time to call a halt and save what’s left of your reputation.”

“I’m not listening!”

“You’ve got to convince him—easier for all concerned if he turns himself in. Tell him he should think of Maggie, if nobody else…”

Gregor Magrath’s look was full of loathing, but Rebus saw a trace of resignation too. The man turned away and went back indoors. Rebus bided his time and Magrath reappeared in the porch, this time brandishing the wooden truncheon.

“That won’t do it,” Rebus told him with a shake of the head and the faintest of smiles. “Not any longer. I know it’s about protecting family—and maybe protecting your own name while you’re at it. But moving up here hasn’t stopped him. Time for the next step, Gregor.”

“Go to hell!”

Magrath disappeared inside again, and though Rebus stood there for a further few minutes, giving the door an occasional blow with his fist, he knew the man wasn’t coming back this time. He returned to the Saab and called Siobhan Clarke in Edinburgh.