Remembering his face when he showed her the calf strangled by the wire made her want to weep. Dougie was a farmer, a natural one. He could no more stab a cow than she could.

Reaching home, she pulled the big kettle onto the hot ring of the Aga, then tried to call Mark, intent on running the latest developments by him. What she didn’t expect was to be told the number was no longer operational.

Why would that be the case? Her sensible side moved in to quash the fear. Mark had a number of mobiles. Stopping the use of one was par for the course, especially during an investigation. Her mind conjured up a vision of his face, which had resembled the detective’s last night. Who had jumped him and why?

Ava admonished herself. Mark was more than capable of looking after himself and had done so in far more dangerous places than London.

As is Dougie and as am I. It was a comforting thought but stayed only fleetingly.

She headed upstairs to check out Dougie’s room. Surely if he’d decided to stay away for a few days, there would be evidence there to prove that.

Walking into his room after so long (he’d never allowed her to enter when resident) brought back memories of the little boy she’d left behind. He had worshipped his big sister because she’d indulged him constantly. Twelve years’ age difference had made her into a second and more accommodating mum. And she had relished it.

The bedroom now was not the one she’d left behind. This wasn’t a boy’s room any longer, but a young man’s. Dougie had become a grown-up, and the death of both his parents had hastened that.

Shaking herself, Ava checked for possible missing clothes, for his rucksack. Then she spotted the most significant missing item of all.

Wherever he had gone, Dougie had taken his laptop with him.

31

Anchored in the waters of the small, sheltered inlet, he had a clear view of Houton Bay and the rusting hulk of the ghost ship.

Here, all was calm, but out there was a different matter. The Fear Not had braved the waves on the way over, Finn at the bow, but Scapa Flow was now made rougher by the changing tide and a rising wind.

Dougie laid his hand on the collie’s head, whispering words of endearment while the intelligent eyes watched him intently, ears on high alert.

The sun was sinking into the west, the sky a fiery red line below a threatening cloud mass. He felt the first sting of raindrops on his face as he started up the engine.

He had been sailing these waters since he could first handle a boat, encouraged by his father. Before that he had sat in the bow like Finn, confident that his dad could take them safely to wherever he chose.