‘Organised crime. Low-level, though. They didn’t have much in the way of money and certainly no power.’

‘Maybe that’s his problem, then.’

‘Sounds like being a manly man was a big deal in that household.’

‘As usual, you are amazing. Can you send me over all the pertinent information? Can you check if there is anything else on him and the company? He told us he hired ex-cons before. Maybe see if we can get a list of those together and assess whether any of them could have killed Glover. I don’t think Corrigan gets his hands dirty himself.’

‘I’ll see what I can find.’

Chapter Fifty-Six

Seeing Dr Hadley had helped. The pain medication was good and Adrian could feel himself getting better slowly, at least physically. He wanted to get back to life now. He thought he could beat the PTSD by working hard to be normal again, to be the person he was before, maybe better. The doctor had said it could go away after a while and that’s what he wanted. There had to be a way he could achieve that.

He was cooking dinner every night, resigned to the fact that Imogen was coming over. Her presence in the house did make him feel better – when he was alone, he was afraid. He ignored the fear as much as he could, pushed it to the back of his mind and got on with it, but it lingered like a shadow, attached yet apart. He was showering at least five times a day, but who was keeping count?

It had been a week since the attack. He still hadn’t been sleeping very well, but he was able to sit on a cushion without wanting to scream in agony. The memory of that night was worse when he tried to sleep – that’s when he was alone with his thoughts and his mind just wouldn’t stop. He had watched hundreds of episodes of television shows, obsessively involving himself in character plots and fictional people’s lives. Occasionally, something he saw on the television would bring a moment hurtling to the surface. He was angry and frustrated that he couldn’t just put it behind him. Why did it have such a hold on him?

He had been in scary situations before but, admittedly, this was a few notches above anything else he had experienced. The physical reminder didn’t help, though the pain was improving. At least his outward appearance was returning to normal, even if he didn’t know what he could do about the inside. The bruise on his rib was dying; it had lost its vibrancy and was starting to fade.

Suddenly, he heard the key turn in the lock. He peered towards the front door, holding his breath.

‘Hey, Dad,’ his teenage son said.

Adrian was startled at seeing Tom. He was overwhelmed with shame and he felt sick again.