I make a show of fumbling for the lamp switch, trying to buy time to think. How will he hide the shotgun? Will he even bother to hide it? The bright light of the hallway after the dim lamplight makes me blink. As I start down the stairs, Carrie and Fiona have already entered the front door and are on their way to the kitchen. “Ailsa? Ailsa?” Carrie is calling. “Have you seen Callum?” She turns when she hears me on the lower stairs and comes back along the hallway, Fiona at her shoulder. They’re right by the alarm panel, with the utterly useless panic button. “There you are. Oh, Jamie, too, hi. It’s Callum—he’s disappeared. Is he here?”

“No, I haven’t seen him.” What is the right amount of concern to portray? I glance back at Jamie. I think he has the shotgun hidden against his side, inside his jacket.

“Let’s go into the kitchen and attack this logically,” Jamie suggests. Carrie and Fiona turn for the kitchen, and as I follow them, passing the alarm panel, Jamie breathes into my ear from behind me, Dinnae you be doing anything stupid.

“How long has he been missing?” I ask when we get in the kitchen. Nobody sits down.

“Not long, I think,” says Fiona. She can barely stand still; she’s almost pacing on the spot. Carrie puts a gentle hand on her upper arm. “Dad said an hour max. I was so sure he’d be here. He was really worried about you being here on your own . . . Maybe he’s somewhere between here and home; it’s wild out tonight.” Her eyes won’t stay still, as if they need to keep roving, searching. She runs a frantic hand through her thick hair and breathes out unsteadily. The two doors upstairs thud, and her eyes flick upward, startled.

“We’ll find him,” Carrie tells her earnestly. “We will.”

“He’s a smart cookie. He’s not going to have done anything stupid.” I don’t know if Fiona even hears me. She’s suddenly much more still. Only her head moves, looking round, as if trying to make sense of something. “We should go out and look for him. With torches. We should go now. Split up and cover more ground.” If only I can get us all outside. Outside, surely Carrie will be safe. “Carrie . . .” I’m willing her to look at me, as if I could somehow telegraph the danger we’re in through my eyes, but she refuses to turn away from Fiona. “We have to go.”

“Safer in pairs, actually,” Jamie counters. He’s leaning against the kitchen doorway. The gun must be propped just out of sight, perhaps resting against the doorframe on the hallway side. “Ailsa and me, and the pair of you. With mobiles—for all the bloody use they are round here.”

“Shouldn’t we leave someone here?” Carrie asks.