David had sat back in his chair at that moment and his expression should have been a warning. ‘The word is Mark’s under investigation by the Met,’ he said firmly, as though that was the end of the matter.

Was this investigation linked to Mark’s current interest in Go Wild? He’d told her he already knew about the company. Which was probably why he’d agreed so readily to help her when she’d called him, and why he’d asked her to come to London so soon after that call.

As for the Met, he’d rubbed them up before now. By what David had said, he must have done it again. Which could explain why Mark hadn’t wanted to reveal anything he’d found out over the phone.

Whatever the truth of David’s statement, their meeting had ended at that point, and not in a positive manner. In fact, David’s parting comment of ‘Let me know when you’re back down permanently and we’ll talk again’ had left her in no doubt that the Orlova investigation would only be of interest should Mark not be a contributor.

Ava checked her watch again. How long should she wait before abandoning her post? When she’d raised that question with Mark last night, he’d just laughed. ‘You know me. Always late to the party. I’ll find you at home if need be.’

Deciding the party was over, Ava abandoned her spot in the now busy cafe and headed for her flat, just managing to hit the rush hour. A phenomenon she’d almost forgotten about.

Rush hour on Orkney could be construed as passing a couple of cars on the road home to Orphir, but only if she didn’t know either of the drivers.

Out of the Underground now and moving swiftly into the residential streets, Ava breathed a sigh of relief as humans became scarcer and an occasional tree or hedgerow appeared. She’d been away from her Chelsea flat for work on numerous occasions, but the Orkney stay had had a degree of permanence that had made her feel like a stranger here. Slipping her key in the lock, she was suddenly relieved to open the door on her previous life again.

She stood briefly in the hall, revelling in its familiarity, before heading to the sitting room. It was as she glanced into her office that it struck her that something was wrong.

She came to an abrupt halt as the hairs rose on the back of her neck. It was the smell of the place, she realized. It had been empty for over two months, yet didn’t smell like it. Walking into her office, she ran her eyes over her untidy desk. The piles of articles, the books. Her back-up laptop. An abandoned coffee mug. Was everything as it had been when she’d left, after the devastating phone call from Dougie?