The memory always brought a sharp pain to McNab’s back, as though the bullet he’d taken while shielding a pregnant Chrissy might still be in there.

Since Ellie had inked a skull over the scar, McNab would imagine the bullet shattering the skeleton head. He wondered sometimes if this was his subconscious reminding him that he should never have got the biker tattoo in the first place.

Pushing open the door of the jazz club, he headed downstairs. The place was busy with after-work drinkers, but he soon spotted Chrissy in her usual place at the bar.

McNab had never hit on Chrissy, nor she on him. It seemed the best male–female relationships were formed in such a way. Or so Chrissy often reminded him.

‘Rhona’s back on the job,’ she said with a smile. ‘There was an evidence delivery at the lab.’

‘Sergeant MacDonald told me.’

‘He’s your spy in the Skye camp?’

‘Him and now Norwegian Inspector Alvis Olsen,’ McNab said with an accusing look.

‘He called to say he was coming back to Scotland. I told him why Rhona wasn’t here to speak to him,’ Chrissy said defiantly.

‘Did you suggest he went to Skye?’

‘No, but I hoped he would. He and Rhona faced some real shit together.’ Chrissy glared at McNab. ‘He might be the one to persuade her to come home,’ she said hopefully. ‘And now that she’s working again . . .’ She tailed off, a question in her eyes.

‘I have the feeling Dr MacLeod prefers island life, and her friends there.’

Chrissy was examining his expression, unsure if he was joking or not.

‘Maybe it’s that bloke Jamie she was pally with back in the day.’ McNab paused for effect. ‘Let’s face it, things haven’t been great with Sean since . . .’ He halted, trying to look suitably worried, which he undoubtedly was.

‘Fuck. Rhona has to come back and soon. Or I need to find another job.’

‘What’s wrong with Derek? He seems an okay guy.’

Chrissy bit back whatever she was about to say about Rhona’s temporary replacement. ‘What the hell do we do?’

‘If you went out there,’ McNab ventured, ‘Rhona might be more likely to come back.’

‘If she thinks I’ve come to persuade her?’ Chrissy didn’t look convinced. ‘You know what she’s like.’

‘Well, let’s hope they do find a body in suspicious circumstances. Then you have the perfect excuse.’ Even as he said this, McNab was conscious that he’d now wished death on two people in order to achieve his current desires – the identification of the Sandman and Rhona back in Glasgow and on the job. But catching a thoughtful look in Chrissy’s eye, he decided he’d sown the seed of her possible trip to Skye and would have to await its hopeful germination.

‘Okay, I’m off,’ Chrissy said, glancing at her watch.