‘I didnae come here tae hurt ye, Jamie. But hurt ye I will, if I havtae. Ye’ll disappear in these woods and no trace o’ ye will ever be seen again. If I’m makin’ that extra clear, it’s because I dinnae want it tae happen.’

Jamie tried to shrink away, but there was nowhere to go. He quavered, ‘Then what do you want?’

‘Information. Details. Descriptions. Faces. Names. All that ye know. You do that for me, I’ll let ye go. Okay?’

‘And if I don’t?’

The dead fish eyes gave the slightest of twinkles. ‘I think you’re gonnae talk tae me, son.’

And Ewan’s uncle was right. Jamie told him everything.

Jamie McGlashan had an old scar on his upper lip that looked like a twisted worm. It gave him a slight speech impediment. In his lispy voice he described how he had witnessed four men murder Ross Campbell. Boonzie didn’t want to know the details of how, only the names of who. Two of the names, he’d never heard before. But McGlashan was keeping the best for last. When he heard the other two names, Boonzie understood why the poacher was so afraid.

Those two names were Detective Inspector Macleod and Detective Sergeant Coull.

Their mention was enough to make Boonzie lose his famous steely composure. ‘Ye’d better be tellin’ me the truth,’ he growled at McGlashan with such ferocity that the poacher turned ghastly pale in the dim light of the car. ‘Or I swear tae God, ye’ll be sorry. I found ye once. I can find ye again. And next time I’ll kill ye.’

‘I’m not bullshittin’ you! That’s who I saw!’

Boonzie eyed him with suspicion. ‘How did ye know them?’

‘I’ve been arrested four times for poachin’. I know every pig in the region. Trust me. I’m no gettin’ this wrong. It was Coull and Macleod.’

‘Swear?’

‘On my mother’s grave, man!’

Boonzie stared deep into Jamie McGlashan’s eyes and believed him. ‘All right.’ He leaned back into the car seat and fell into a long silence. He had sat face to face with these same bastards and listened to their assurances that they would catch the attackers who’d beaten his nephew almost to death. If McGlashan was right and Coull and Macleod were the very same men who’d helped to murder Ewan’s friend, then they were almost certainly deeply involved in what had happened to Ewan himself.

The rage made Boonzie’s heart thump dangerously fast and heavily. Even in the subzero temperatures of the winter night he felt as though he was on fire inside. A wave of nausea washed over him. He had the urge to swallow one of his pills, but resisted it.

‘What are you goin’ to do?’ McGlashan asked tentatively.