Sometimes Mary said she didn’t believe in God, but she still went to chapel all the time, and she worried about God forgiving her.

That was why it happened. Why it had all happened.

And she was as much responsible as Mary. She’d seen her chance and took it. If she hadn’t, Mary would be alive now.

That’s what she knew to be the truth. What Mary had asked her to do that day had made her happy. She’d jumped at the chance, because it would get her what she wanted.

She should have told Mary that God forgives. They tell you that in the church on Sunday, but there’s also a lot about hell and damnation. And that had frightened her.

It wasn’t until later that she’d realized it wasn’t Mary who was likely to go to hell. It was her.

The uphill track through the trees had reached its steepest part. Karen took a seat on the carved wooden bench that awaited her at the next fork in the path.

From here she could see the layered green of King’s Knot through the budding branches of the ancient woodland. This walk up Castle Hill to Stirling’s famous Old Town Cemetery had been a favourite with her and Jack, and the dog, of course.

Before life had gone to hell.

Karen glanced down at the self-inflicted wound on her wrist. Swollen and seeping, its throbbing sent a wash of perspiration to bead her brow. The smell when she raised the wrist to her nostrils reminded her of Jack’s final days. It had been the signal that it would soon be over. Just like now.

She waited until her head stopped swimming, then restarted her climb, hoping to have reached the top before another wave of weakness hit. She was entering by the open gate that led into the Old Town Cemetery just as it did.

Determined to reach the grave before it swamped her, Karen tried to up her pace, stumbling like a drunk through the gravestones.

Then she was there, her hand on the cold granite. Jack’s headstone her support.

‘What now, Jack?’ she whispered.

‘If you tell them, you know what will happen?’

‘Mary told me too.’

He sounded surprised by that. ‘But the killer might already be dead, and what about all the innocent folk who’ll be made to suffer?’

But the killer wasn’t dead.

Her mind made up, Karen gathered her strength. If she could make it up the hill, then she could make it down again.

Gravity and momentum were helping her descent, but maybe a little too fast. The trees were rushing past and Karen experienced the pleasurable sensation that she was running through the woods towards their den, where Mary would be waiting for her.

It was at that point that a man stepped out in front of her downhill race.

‘Found you at last, Karen,’ he said.

48

McNab had been woken by the alarm. The one set to get him out of bed and off to the gym for his daily workout (which hadn’t been exactly daily). He reached out as usual only to discover the place beside him empty. Then last night’s events rushed back to explain Ellie’s absence.