Should he call the police? That thought left him cold. He couldn’t reveal he was up there, saw Josh and his mates destroy the hot tub, and did nothing to stop them. Maybe he could miss that bit out? Pretend he was on the lookout for poachers and just happened upon the damage . . . and the exposed grave.

No. He shook his head as though convincing himself. He couldn’t say anything.

When Ailsa went missing, every male in the village had fallen under suspicion. Him included. Even the gang there tonight. No wonder they were so freaked. They wouldn’t report it, and neither could he.

His next thought was for Colin, who would arrive there first thing. Colin hadn’t known Ailsa. He wasn’t living in Blackrig when she went missing. He was never a suspect. It was better that Colin discovered the scene, he decided.

Colin would radio him, of course. He would act surprised and horrified and tell Colin what they needed to do. Colin was an innocent in all of this. No harm would come to him. He wouldn’t even need to give a DNA sample, like they all had to do last time, because he hadn’t been there five years ago when Ailsa had disappeared.

Colin hadn’t known Ailsa at all.

He would tell Colin that he would inform the estate of the find. Hopefully the Party House booking would be cancelled, the guests sent home or found alternative accommodation on a neighbouring estate.

The estate would call the police.

He might be able to manage the opening to this story, he realized, but he would have no control over the way it played out.

If it was Ailsa, the investigation team would be back here again. Just as they had been when she’d disappeared.

They would all be back in that nightmare. Only this time they would have a body.

And a body changed everything.

Rousing himself, he finished his whisky and, going quietly into the bedroom, he slipped into bed alongside Joanne. He wanted to reach out and touch her, but didn’t, in case she woke and asked him where he’d been.

As far as he was aware, Joanne didn’t know the other story of Blackrig. The one he hadn’t chosen to tell her, despite the fact he’d had a star role.

The disappearance of seventeen-year-old Ailsa Cummings.

Joanne

She lay as still as possible, breathing deeply and evenly as though asleep. The smell of whisky from Greg’s breath, the damp scent of his skin, made it obvious he’d showered on his return from wherever he’d gone to, and seemingly required a drink.

It was also obvious that he was keeping his distance and definitely didn’t want her to wake up and perhaps question him.