‘What is it you want?’ Mrs Jackson said.

‘Shall we sit down first?’ McNab said.

She grudgingly took a seat. McNab, as he did the same, was struck by the thought that the room was rarely used, just like the sitting room in Karen’s cottage.

‘Is your husband back yet?’ McNab said.

‘I told you already that he wouldn’t be back for at least two weeks.’

‘That’s odd, because his company believe he’s already back in the UK,’ McNab said, keeping a keen eye on her face as he said it.

‘That’s nonsense. He called me and told me the date himself.’ She looked as though she believed this, or perhaps just wanted to believe it.

‘Mrs Jackson, we have CCTV footage showing your husband, Eric Jackson, in central Stirling two days ago.’

Now that statement did throw her.

‘That’s impossible,’ she managed. ‘Why would Eric be in Stirling?’

‘I was hoping you would be able to tell me that,’ McNab said.

‘There’s been a mistake, of course,’ she responded angrily. ‘The footage from those cameras renders people unrecognizable.’

McNab was inclined to agree, but obviously didn’t.

‘It was Eric, that’s been confirmed.’ He stuck with the plan. ‘Your husband was in two images with your sister, Karen, during the time she was missing.’

‘That’s nonsense. Anyway, my sister isn’t missing any more,’ she said.

‘What makes you say that?’ McNab said swiftly.

‘It was on the news,’ Mrs Jackson said. ‘Some former detective found her wandering in the woods at the castle.’

‘And that didn’t worry you?’

She pursed her lips. ‘My sister was always a drama queen. Mary McIntyre encouraged her in that.’

Despite her harsh words, something else had crept into Mrs Jackson’s speech. McNab, with years on the job, now smelled fear seeping through. She might be speaking harshly, but something he’d said had frightened Mrs Jackson. Something about her husband or her sister.

‘I’d like you to call your husband right now,’ McNab said.

‘I gave you his number. You can phone him yourself.’

Nice try, he thought. ‘Call him on your phone, then give the phone to me,’ McNab ordered.

‘This is ridiculous,’ she said, any fear now masked again by anger.

‘Now,’ McNab said.

‘Then I’ll have to fetch my phone,’ she said, and already he could read on her face what she thought was her way out.

‘I’ll come with you.’

That was it. Her face crumpled and McNab found himself staring at a completely different version of Eleanor Jackson. McNab let her cry for a bit, simply waiting for her to stop.

‘Your husband doesn’t come home, does he?’

She shook her head. ‘Not for the last six months.’

‘Where does he go, do you know?’

‘No idea. He won’t tell me.’

‘When did this happen?’

‘After the last tour. He came back for his clothes. Said he’d met someone else.’

‘And the number you gave us?’ McNab said.

‘He’s changed it. I can’t get him either.’

McNab knew he hadn’t had the whole truth, but he’d had some of it. Maybe now was the time to tell Eleanor Jackson her younger sister’s version of what had happened that day all those years ago.