Karen pulled into the kerb below a street lamp.

Jack had woken up. ‘You’re wasting your time,’ he told her. ‘Your sister won’t let you in the door.’

‘She might,’ Karen said.

Jack was right, but she had to try.

Fifteen minutes later, she found the street. The next problem was finding the right house. The house numbers seemed to be all over the place. Some houses had it above the door, some at the end of the drive, but eventually she did locate number seventeen.

Karen stepped out into the coolness of the night, shutting the car door on Jack’s last demand that she give up on all this nonsense. Breathing in the fresh air, she found that the shivers had abated and the flush of heat returned. Never mind, she told herself. This wouldn’t take long. Then she could rest.

The light was on in what might be the living room. It was a lovely house, she thought, looking up at it. Big. Eleanor had always wanted a big house. Especially because she had to share a bedroom with me.

Karen rang the bell and, listening to its musical chimes, waited for her sister to come.

64

He wished he’d taken Janice with him. She might have read the woman better. There was no clarity in McNab’s thoughts over what had just happened. The mix of bravado and fear he’d picked up from Eleanor Jackson – had that just been because her husband of forty-four years had left her for another woman?

Or was she hiding something else?

McNab had dealt with many unpleasant domestic scenarios in his time as a police officer. He remembered the smell of fear when you walked into such a home. The results of physical violence were usually obvious on the woman. The ‘walked into a door’ explanation. But sometimes the perpetrator focused on the hidden parts of the body, the bits covered by clothes. The arms, the torso, the vaginal area.

Last, but definitely not least, the onslaught of psychological violence. Insidious control.

McNab went through all of these possibilities, trying to match one of them to Eleanor Jackson’s behaviour tonight. Where had her fear come from?

He still wasn’t clear if she was in touch with her husband, and now wished he’d checked the house. Maybe Eric Jackson had been there, or even close by. Her surprise at the Stirling connection had seemed genuine, but . . .

One thing was certain, she did not want her sister to appear at the door. If Karen did, the likelihood was Mrs Jackson wouldn’t even let her cross the threshold.

But what if she looked ill? Jean had said that Karen had looked very poorly when she’d arrived at her place. Would that make a difference? And would Eleanor call him if her sister did appear, as she’d promised?

McNab had an overwhelming desire to turn round and head back, and basically hang around the house just in case. But he’d promised Ellie that tonight he would turn up for her end of shift at the Rock Cafe. If not, he thought, his days as her boyfriend were probably numbered. Or he would enter the world of non-monogamous dating.