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is.’
    â€˜I doubt he’s thinking about what I might think,’ Mac mused. ‘You may be right about him turning up at your place, but I don’t think I’m that relevant to him, Emily.’
    â€˜Mac, it became personal. The night . . . the night he killed that little girl, he stood there and made you watch while he killed her. He knew there was nothing you could do, that you’d never expect him to actually go through with it. I mean, who would? No one expects to see a threat like that carried out, but he did: he killed her and you watched. You were there. It was personal, you and him. Mac, he’ll know you’d have to come back and finish things. He knows you. He knows you were nearly destroyed by what he did; you couldn’t let it go, not being you . . .’ She trailed off, running out of words. Mac didn’t quite know how to respond, but he knew in his heart of hearts that she was right. It was personal. It had gone beyond job and duty and justice.
    â€˜You’re right, of course,’ Mac said quietly. ‘I had to come back, see this through.’ For a moment, there was silence between them. Mac was aware of his own breathing, how loud it sounded, how tense and tight his lungs felt as he drew each breath in. He wondered if it sounded loud to Emily or if she too was listening to her own strangled breaths, in, out, in, out, tight in the throat and loud in the ears. In the end, he heard her move, heard Calum’s quiet voice in the background.
    â€˜I’d better go,’ she said. ‘Calum’s cooked tonight. He’s better at it than me. Make sure you eat, won’t you, Mac? It’s easy to forget the ordinary things, but sometimes they’re all you’ve got left to hang on to.’
    Mac smiled. ‘You’re starting to sound like Rina,’ he told her.
    â€˜Rina?’
    â€˜Ah. I forgot you didn’t know Rina. She’s a friend. A really good friend. She lectures me about eating right and all that.’
    â€˜You be careful, Mac,’ Emily said. ‘Remember, he thought he’d killed you too that night. He won’t like the fact that we got away from him, you and I.’
    â€˜I will,’ he promised. ‘And you too.’
    A knock on the door told him that his food had arrived and he rang off, found his wallet, paid the man with the quilted bag and the red shirt and big smile who waited at the door. He no longer felt like eating, but, noting wryly that he’d promised two women that night that he would, he went through the motions of finding a plate and cutlery, set the kettle on to boil and, because he could no longer bear the silence and the harshness of his too-loud breath, he turned the television on and stared at the screen while he ate, not tasting any of it. Afterwards, he reflected that this evening was so like those first lonely evenings in Frantham, that the only thing missing was the bottle and glass he had habitually left on the kitchen counter. For a moment he almost felt that same terrible level of despair.
    Mac took a deep breath and found his mobile phone. This time Miriam answered. She had just arrived home, she told him, and Mac was warmed by the knowledge that home, tonight, was his little flat above the boathouse.
    â€˜I love you so much,’ he told her as they said goodbye. ‘You just take good care of yourself.’
    â€˜I will,’ she promised. ‘You come home soon, Mac, and remember, any time you like, you can just walk away. No one who matters will think any less of you if you do – you know that, don’t you?’
    â€˜I know,’ he said. ‘But I’ll be fine.’ He hoped with that he wasn’t telling her lies.

SIX
    N ext morning was bracing, the wind coming in off the sea and harsh enough to take the breath away. ‘I’d forgotten just how bloody cold this place was,’ Mac commented ruefully as he got into Alec’s