From Cath Kinnoul, Rebus didn’t doubt.

‘Yes, she visited. A very pleasant hour we spent. We talked about the past, about . . . friends. Friendship. Is their marriage in trouble?’

‘Why do you say that?’

Another creased smile. ‘She came alone, Inspector. She told me she was on holiday alone. Yet a man was waiting for her outside. Either it was Gregor, and he didn’t want to see me, or else it was one of her . . . friends.’

‘How do you know?’

‘Nursie here told me. If you don’t want to sleep tonight, Inspector, get him to show you the punishment block. I bet Doc Forster didn’t mention the punishment block. Maybe that’s where they’ll throw me for talking like this.’

‘Shut it, Macmillan.’

Rebus turned to the nurse. ‘Is it true?’ he asked. ‘Was someone waiting outside for Mrs Jack?’

‘Yeah, there was somebody in the car. Some guy. I only saw him from one of the windows. He’d got out of the car to stretch his legs.’

‘What did he look like?’

But the nurse was shaking his head. ‘He was getting back in when I saw him. I just saw his back.’

‘What kind of car was it?’

‘Black 3-series, no mistake about that.’

‘Oh, he’s very good at noticing things, Inspector, except when it suits him.’

‘Shut it, Macmillan.’

‘Ask yourself this, Inspector. If this is a hospital, why are all the so-called “nurses” members of the Prison Officers’ Association? This isn’t a hospital, it’s a warehouse, but full of headcases rather than packing cases. The twist is, the headcases are the ones in charge!’

He was moving away from the wall now, walking on slow, doped legs, but his energy was unmistakable. Every nerve was blazing.

‘Against the wall –’

‘Headcases! I took her head off! God knows, I did –’

‘Macmillan!’ The nurse was moving too.

‘But it was so long ago . . . a different –’

‘Warning you –’

‘And I want so much . . . so much to –’

‘Right, that’s it.’ The nurse had him by the arms.

‘– touch the earth.’

In the end, Macmillan offered little resistance, as the straps were attached to his arms and legs. The guard laid him out on the floor. ‘If I leave him on the bed,’ he told Rebus, ‘he just rolls off and injures himself.’

‘And you wouldn’t want that,’ said Macmillan, sounding almost peaceful now that he’d been restrained. ‘No, nurse, you wouldn’t want that.’

Rebus opened the door, making to leave.

‘Inspector!’

He turned. ‘Yes, Mr Macmillan?’

Macmillan had twisted his head so it was facing the door. ‘Touch the earth for me . . . please.’

Rebus left the hospital on shakier legs than he’d entered it. He didn’t want the tour of the pool and the gym. Instead, he’d asked the nurse to show him the punishment block, but the nurse had refused.

‘Look,’ he’d said, ‘you might not like what goes on here, I might not like some of what goes on, but you’ve seen how it is. They’re supposed to be “patients”, but you can’t turn your back on them, you can’t leave them alone. They’ll swallow lightbulbs, they’ll be shitting pens and pencils and crayons, they’ll try to put their head through the television. I mean, they might not, but you just can’t ever be sure . . . ever. Try to keep an open mind, Inspector. I know it’s not easy, but try.’