“Of course,” says Carrie quickly. She’s pulled her feet up onto her chair and is hugging her knees. If anything, she’s even paler now. Fiona is looking at me with a faint frown, as if she’s trying to solve a quadratic equation in her head. In a transparent change of topic, Carrie adds, “You know, I’ve been trying to remember, and I’m not at all sure that I’ve been in that room since the first day we got here.”

“Me either. Though I suppose Callum might have been in there yesterday.” Of course Callum shouldn’t be on the list.

“I’ll ask him,” offers Fiona.

“Let me know. I’ll call the police in the morning.” There’s very little emotion in my words. I may have run out.

“Aye,” says Fiona, then stops.

Carrie looks across at her. “What?”

“It’s just . . . do you think you could maybe not tell the police I was here?”

“What? Why?”

She has two spots of color in her cheeks and she’s looking straight ahead. “I dinnae have the best history with them. I was into some stuff as a teenager—”

“What kind of stuff?” I interrupt.

“Ailsa!” exclaims Carrie, but I won’t be deterred.

“What kind of stuff?”

“Drugs,” says Fiona succinctly. “I was going through a lot, apparently”—her lips twist ruefully—“and the drugs were . . . escapism. Or so the therapist told me.”

“And you had run-ins with the police?”

She nods. “I got arrested a few times. Possession, never dealing. Breach of the peace a couple of times.” She looks straight at me now. “The police will have to interview Callum, which means they will have to alert the social services.”

“Why will they have to interview Callum?” asks Carrie.

“Because of the bones under your bed,” Fiona says, but she’s still looking at me.

“But we don’t know—”

“Yes,” I say quietly. “I rather think we do now.” And then I remember Fiona’s expression, only last night, when Carrie suggested the bones weren’t human. Fiona has always thought they were human.

“Please dinnae tell the police I was here,” says Fiona quietly. “Please. It just . . . It doesnae look good. The ex-druggie single mum too bladdered to get herself home . . . They’ll tell the social services, and then I’ll be on their list, and then . . .”

“But it wasn’t like that,” protests Carrie. “We’ll tell them it wasn’t like that.”

Fiona shakes her head. “Better to say nothing at all.” She shivers uncharacteristically. “I couldnae bear to lose Callum.”

Carrie’s hand flies to her mouth. “What? You wouldn’t . . . Surely they . . .”