‘I’m not sure yet,’ she said truthfully. ‘And, Lucy,’ she continued, ‘you can’t tell anyone about this. We’re a long way from the centre of the media universe, and a cold case in remote Scotland might not get traction in London. But . . .’

‘Of course,’ Lucy said. ‘My lips are sealed.’ She hesitated. ‘You will be careful?’ She didn’t add ‘this time’ but that’s what she meant.

When she’d finished the call, Joanne got up and purposefully poured herself another dram.

She hadn’t been completely honest with Lucy, but then she hadn’t told Greg the truth either.

And now there was another secret between them.

Sitting alone, wrapped in Greg’s dressing gown, she realized how much she wanted him to return. The room was so different from her London flat. No passing traffic or sounds of people coming and going from the building. No TV to switch on. No radio. When she’d asked how he spent his evenings when he was here alone, he’d joked, ‘Who says I’m always alone? I do get visitors from time to time.’

When she’d looked as though she might ask who, he’d added with a smile, ‘You for instance.’

Finally hearing the sound of steps on the gravel outside, she opened a randomly selected book from her mobile’s Kindle selection and pretended to be reading, her heart raising its beat.

‘You’re still up?’ he said on seeing her there.

‘I was reading,’ she lied.

She suspected by the smell of whisky that he’d been drinking, but then so had she.

‘Want some more?’ He indicated her glass.

She nodded, thinking how tired and sad he looked. The sudden rush of feeling for him surprised her because, for the first time, it wasn’t sexual.

‘Are you okay?’ she found herself saying.

He’d been studying his glass and now looked up to search her face.

‘I fucking hate Stratton and his bastard friends.’

The cold anger with which he said this unnerved her, and she wondered again what Greg was truly capable of. But the look on his face as he drank down the whisky and came to kneel before her changed her fear to desire.

Greg

Greg took another mouthful of the strong coffee, hoping the caffeine would hit soon.

He’d slipped out of bed just after dawn, leaving Joanne sleeping. He liked waking up to find her beside him, the scent of her on the bedclothes.

Her presence at Beanach, he acknowledged, was both a delight and a problem.

Stratton’s continuing threats had unnerved him. And being up at the Party House with easy access to cocaine had simply reminded him of what he’d got up to the last time.