I saw the flash of pain in his eyes and I was glad to see it there.

We drove back to Smithfield in silence, the summer-night city empty now, and the BMW X5 always two or three mph below the speed limit.

There was a rage in him and it had always been there.

When we were two boys who didn’t have one parent between us, I always thought of it as his wildness. But it was more than that – beyond the gap-toothed grin was a deep and abiding anger that Jackson Rose would carry to his grave.

Both of us were raised by someone who had to step in for our parents. My grandmother and his adoptive parents. But my parents died. And his left. Perhaps that was the difference between us. He had a father who didn’t want his mother and a mother who didn’t want him.

And it leaves a rage in you, being left like that.

I had always felt blessed. Lucky to have the mum and dad I had, although I would have liked them for longer. Lucky to have my grandmother, although I wished she hadn’t enjoyed her smokes so much and had never got lung cancer. Lucky to have Scout, even though I would spend the rest of my days wishing she had known a family life without divorce. But I never felt sorry for myself, and I never felt that kind of rage.

I was, I guess, a glass-half-full kind of guy. My friend Jackson was a glass-half-empty, smash-it-on-the-bar-and-wave-it-in-your-face kind of guy.

I had seen his rage when we were young and trouble came calling. But it was different now, for now it was honed and polished.

Now someone had trained him for murder.

Stan came to greet us when we opened the door. The dog hated it when nobody was home and my eyes quickly scanned the loft for signs of the small puddles he sometimes deposited when he was anxious. But the floor seemed dry.

Jackson looked at the dog and not at me. He got down on his knees to fuss over the small red Cavalier.

‘I was trying to help,’ Jackson said quietly. ‘That’s all.’

‘And you did help. In your own mad bastard way – you did.’

‘But you can’t be around this stuff.’

‘No.’

‘And that means you can’t be around me.’

We were silent for a long moment.

He looked up at me and I nodded.

‘That’s right,’ I said. I felt something fall away inside me, something that I knew I would never get back. ‘You’re too dangerous,’ I said.

He nodded, as if it was all settled.

‘I’ll pack my stuff and ship out. Say goodbye to Scout for me, will you?’

‘Christ almighty, Jackson, you don’t have to go now.’

He stood up and faced me.

‘Ah, but I think I do, Max.’