Her strange use of him rather than Dempsey’s name made the soldier sound like a character out of a horror story. A horror story that Lexi, Rhona suspected, had had a starring role in.

‘And with Sugarboy gone, who will believe me anyway?’

‘I believe you,’ Rhona had assured her. ‘You must tell the MOD everything that happened here on Skye and out in Afghanistan.’

‘They’d already discharged Sugarboy. They suspected him of smuggling heroin, but they didn’t have the proof. Plus they don’t want any of what’s happening out there becoming public knowledge. Besides, I knew about the smuggling. I was as complicit as the others. Sugarboy wanted out. So did I. He died trying to make that happen.’

‘What about telling the police?’ Rhona suggested.

She’d laughed then, a hollow and disbelieving sound. ‘I’ve told you. That’s enough.’

It seemed like a lifetime ago that she’d last driven the road to the cottage. Despite the frenetic nature of the last few days, Rhona found herself more at ease than the previous time she’d passed this way.

Then she was questioning every thought, with no faith in her own instincts.

Trauma did that, even to her . . . something she’d denied ever since she’d left Glasgow and come to Skye. You can’t escape trauma by running away from it. Seeing what it had done to Lexi had made her face up to that.

So what should she do?

Talk to someone, the way that Lexi talked to you.

It was such a simple thought, but it had taken a long time for her to allow herself to even consider it. She hadn’t taken Lexi’s trauma away, but she had freed her voice for a little while at least.

She would do as DI Wilson wanted, she decided. She would go to Castlebrae and tell someone her story. Everything she’d done and not done as a captive. Maybe then she would be able to go back to her old life.

Turning into the drive to the cottage, she halted for a moment, as the setting sun found the blue door and brought it alive with light. The cottage had been her refuge; it would always be her refuge, when she needed it. But she couldn’t stay here any longer.

It was time to go back.

McNab Skyped her at the usual time, just as she’d anticipated.

‘Where are you?’ he demanded, then spotted the familiar layout of the cottage kitchen behind her. He looked pleased, but she knew that was only because it wasn’t Jamie’s place.

‘How are things your end?’ Rhona asked.