I should tell him he can have it, he can have the whole thing—except that he can’t. The thought runs up against an unexpected wall inside me. He cannot have the Manse. This house is not for him. I look at the door again, assessing my chances, but he’s moved a step or two to block my exit. “Pull the curtains,” he orders sharply, and I do, wondering if I can leave some kind of sign at the window, except there’s no point. Nobody travels along this road. We are a mile from our nearest neighbors, one of whom happens to be the person terrorizing me, and he has my phone. Even if I could get it from him somehow, the reception is abysmal in every room but this one. I need to find a way to take the upper hand from him. It’s not going to be through strength. What if I stand up to him? What if I refuse to play his games?

The bathroom door is thudding. Actually, it’s not the only one thudding now. The wind must have shaken another loose in its frame.

“I have a suit for him. A blue one, pin-striped, very smart. I didnae have the time to put him in it tonight . . . But aye, I always knew it was him,” he says, as if answering a question I haven’t asked. “Fi didnae know who he was; I threw his clothes and shoes in the river. But Glen wouldnae let me go anywhere alone for a wee while after that, so I had to pretend to find him again with her. I had to make it our secret.” He smiles, and says conspiratorially, “You could convince Fi of anything back then since she couldnae tell what was real and what was made up. I told her I took the blame for something she did when he tanned me. I told her it would be even worse for me next time, and it was all her fault, that she owed me.” Oh God. Poor Fiona. She’s been living with a psychopath all these years, and yet she’s the least well equipped person to figure that out. I feel a wave of shame about every piece of blame I have laid at her door, but now is not the time to dwell on that. I need to figure out how to get away.

Jamie frowns with half a forehead. “You should lie down.”

“Wh-what?”

“You need to lie down. Is this any way to greet your old man? Lie down.”

“No.” It’s not convincing enough. I try again, and the word comes out with a strength I don’t feel. “No.”

He sighs. “You dinnae want to make me cross with you, Ailsa.”