Sophie leans down next to Calloway. The screen shows a Word document, its title clear: Cloud Particle Doppler Spectra from the Updraft of a Mesoscale Convective System. And the author: Dr S. Sharp.

‘This was Finn’s research, our research,’ Ian says angrily. ‘And Sharp was intending to publish it under his name. Finn knew.’

Sophie’s mind is reeling. ‘But he wouldn’t… Finn would have never…’ Then she stops. ‘You haven’t shown this to the police.’

Ian pauses.

‘You haven’t, Ian! Please say you haven’t!’

Ian bows his head. ‘I’m sorry, Sophie. But we had to.’

‘Who did you send it to?’ For the first time Sophie hopes that Robin has been involved. At least he’ll be on Finn’s side.

‘DI Craig, the one in charge.’ Ian looks sheepish. ‘We gave her a copy of his entire hard drive.’

Sophie turns on her heel and walks quickly away from the lab, angry tears threatening. It was motive, clear motive. But to kill over this? Over some silly weather equipment?

Yet, Sophie knew. That silly weather equipment was everything Finn lived for. And he would have done anything to protect it.

27

At last, Robin’s home. He dumps his bag in the hallway, kicking his shoes off into the messy pile. He opens his fridge. He stares inside, trying to get some inspiration for what to cook from a lump of cheese, half a shrivelled pepper and some mouldy mushrooms. He gives up, closing the fridge and walking into the living room.

The place is still a mess. Dust sheets cover his sofa and television. He pulls at a length of wallpaper; it comes away with a satisfying rip. He knows he should get a move on, but he can’t be bothered. Perhaps he’ll get a man in after all. All that sense of achievement for a job well done just isn’t worth the hassle. He glances out of the window. The weather is bright but cool, and he feels the need to get outside, do something to shake off the excess energy.

Robin hasn’t been for a run for a few days, and his muscles feel stiff. A few niggles at first, a twinge behind his knee, but after half a mile he gets into his stride. The bassline beats through his headphones, The Prodigy – a good choice given the mood he’s in. He needs something fast and noisy to take away the thoughts in his head.

He’d spent the rest of the day at the hospital, sitting silently next to Josie. Robin had watched her like a hawk, but she seemed the same concerned mum she’d been all week. Robin saw no evidence that she was hiding anything; only the strain from being with Finn in hospital was apparent.

And Finn? He wasn’t improving. He was still quiet – rarely talking, barely acknowledging Sophie when she arrived later that day, pale-faced and uncommunicative.