With quaking hands Honor inspects the screen. No response to her calls, her texts. She has to think very hard to remember the passcode, her fingers shaking on the virtual keyboard. Calling Nevis’s number. Voicemail.

The man with the blackened face is standing beside the uniformed officer and speaking but she cannot hear above the sound of sirens.

‘She was with a man,’ shouts the uniformed officer.

‘Did he get a look at the man?’ asks Yolanda.

The uniformed officer turns his back to them for a moment then, swinging round and leaning into the car, says, ‘The witness says he saw the girl and the man jump from the boat together but he didn’t catch sight of the man’s face.’ She lays her arms on the door and lowering her voice says, ‘He’s had a drink or two.’

Honor sits back, trying to think straight. The police radio crackles, ‘…active search for Professor Christopher Cullen, also known as Christopher Mulholland, in connection with the deaths of Natasha Tillotson and Amanda Salter, believed to be his mother. May be armed.’

Mulholland. She feels the breath quit her body, goosebumps rising, a terrible cold like ice water in the veins. She hears the words ‘No! Stop!’ in her head but finds herself unable to speak. Seconds pass in which she can hear nothing but the blood thumping in her forehead. Hands clamp her mouth so hard it is painful. She knows they are her own hands but at the same time it seems they are someone else’s. Words chase through her mind but her head is so full of noise she cannot catch them. A disembodied voice says, ‘Are you all right?’ She does not answer, holding her breath now, doing her best to steady herself. Cullen, Mulholland, Cullen, Mulholland. A drumbeat. A call to action. It takes a moment to put the pieces together. Mulholland? After all these years?

In connection with the deaths of Natasha Tillotson and Amanda Salter, believed to be his mother.

The thoughts are a frantic jumble in her head. Mulholland. Zoe’s rapist, Madeleine Ince’s partner during the time of the Midland suicides, Mulholland becoming Cullen. Cullen the Dean.

Oh my God, Nevis! The way she’s spoken about him, her tone fan girl soft.

Who’ll be next?

Nevis seen leaping from the boat with a man.

No! Not Mulholland. Not now.

In a second, she springs from the car. Yolanda’s voice trails behind. No time to stop and explain. A helicopter buzzes overhead. Every sense sharpened by adrenaline. She scopes about, thinking of Alex, desperately seeking the man with the blackened face and suddenly spots him on the opposite side of the road, hastening towards Queen Square.

‘Hey, hey!’ She has to scream to make herself heard above the sound of the helicopter blades. The man stops, the yellowy whites of his eyes like beads in the light from the streetlamp.