Daylight brought no relief, just a quiet determination to see this day through. A warm breeze blew across The Bridges, sunlight falling in shifting patterns across the gardens below the castle. Fin pushed his way determinedly through chattering crowds sporting light spring fashions. A generation who had forgotten the warnings of their elders to ne’er cast a clout till May is oot. It never seemed quite fair that other people’s lives should go on as before. And yet who would have guessed at the pain behind his mask of normality? So who knew what turmoil was hidden behind the facades of others?

He stopped at the photocopy shop in Nicolson Street, slipping copied pages into his leather bag before heading east to St. Leonard’s Street and the “A” Division police headquarters where he had spent most of the last ten years. His farewell party had been drinks with a handful of colleagues at a pub in Lothian Road two nights earlier. A sombre affair, marked mainly by recollection and regret, but also by some genuine affection.

Some people nodded to him in the corridor. Others shook his hand. At his desk, it took him only a few minutes to clear his personal belongings into a cardboard box. The sad, accumulated detritus of a restless working life.

“I’ll take your warrant card off you, Fin.”

Fin turned around. DCI Black had something of the vulture about him. Hungry and watchful. Fin nodded and handed him his card.

“I’m sorry to see you go,” Black said. But he didn’t look sorry. He had never doubted Fin’s ability, just his commitment. And only now, after all these years, was Fin finally ready to acknowledge that Black was right. They both knew he was a good cop, it had just taken Fin longer to realize that it wasn’t his métier. It had taken Robbie’s death to do that.

“Records tell me you pulled the file on your son’s hit-and-run three weeks ago.” Black paused, waiting perhaps for an acknowledgement. When it didn’t come he added, “They’d like it back.”

“Of course.” Fin slid the file out of his bag and dropped it on to the desk. “Not that anyone’s ever likely to open it.”

Black nodded. “Probably not.” He hesitated. “Time you closed it, too, Fin. It’ll just eat you up inside, and fuck with the rest of your life. Let it go, son.”

Fin couldn’t meet his eye. He lifted his box of belongings. “I can’t.”

Outside, he went around the back of the building and opened the lid of a large green recycling bin to empty the contents of his cardboard box, and then chuck it in after them. He had no use for any of it.