Eleanor listened in silence. She seemed so unmoved by the tale, McNab began to wonder if she already knew it. If so, keeping it from the police would be a criminal offence. He told her so.

‘I didn’t know, but it sounds just like the sort of thing Karen would do. If she’d told Dad at the time . . .’ She tailed off.

McNab caught a whiff of fear again. What was she afraid of? That her husband wouldn’t come back or that he might?

He rose to go. ‘We never did get that DNA sample from Mr Jackson.’

‘I’m sorry. If he calls, I’ll tell him you need that and he’ll come down to the station.’

‘If you had something of his – a toothbrush maybe?’ McNab said.

‘I told you he took all his things when he left.’

‘Then we’ll have to put a call out for him to the TV and tabloids. That might be embarrassing for both of you. Especially if it’s in reference to a murder case.’

Her face had turned ashen. ‘Please don’t do that,’ she said. ‘I’ll find a way to speak to him.’

‘Good, then I’d better get back. You’ll call me if anything should change?’ McNab said, making for the front door. ‘In particular, if Karen should come here.’

Keen to usher him out, Eleanor now stopped in her tracks. ‘Why would she do that?’ she said.

‘We think Karen is laying her demons to rest. She visited Jean. Maybe you’re next.’

63

Jack was sleeping. She could hear the soft snores coming from the passenger seat. The peaceful sound of his breathing brought her a little peace too.

‘My sonorous breathing’, he’d called it when alive. When he grew ever more ill, Karen had longed for him to go to sleep, for when he did, she had her own peace back again, however short-lived.

Maybe that was why she was conjuring up the sound now.

The flashes of heat had thankfully abated, only to be replaced by shivering. As long as she could manage to keep her hands on the wheel, long enough to get to her destination, she would be okay.

Getting where she wanted to go, however, was proving difficult. She had never been to this town, never mind this house. She had her map, but now that it had grown dark, she had to keep stopping to use the torch to read it. She should, of course, have bought one of those new-fangled mobiles that could direct you to where you wanted to go.

Marge had offered to help her choose one.

In the end she hadn’t, because when would she be going anywhere that she needed such a phone? She knew Stirling well enough and she hadn’t thought she would ever step out of her house for a very long time, never mind leave the city.

She had the feeling she was lost again. In the dark it was difficult to find the street names.