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essence, of a common humanity.
    Had he been out-manoeuvred, giving Coulter what he had wanted? The inmate had succeeded in generating a meeting with him. He had displayed his new skills to great advantage and shown that it wasn’t a short term commitment. He had even orchestrated what they would discuss the next time they met. Magnus was pondering this when the door opened and Dr Shan appeared, her face a little flushed.
    He rose to greet her as she murmured her apologies at leaving him waiting.
    ‘Please don’t concern yourself. I am aware I’m probably disrupting your schedule.’
    She ushered him out and they were back in the corridor. The earlier scent was still discernible, pleasant and soothing. It prompted Magnus to ask, ‘I wondered if you would be able to spare ten minutes to talk about Mr Coulter?’
    She continued walking alongside him, but Magnus had detected a start as he’d made his request. He also suspected the glance at her watch was just for show. She wasn’t contemplating whether she had the time, but whether she had the inclination.
    ‘If you would like to come to my office, we can talk there.’
    She opened the door on a small but elegantly furnished space. On the wall behind the desk was a print of what looked like a Buddhist woodcut. Dr Shan saw him glance in that direction but said nothing, merely waving him to a seat across the desk from her. The flush had left her cheeks. She looked calm and contained.
    ‘How did the interview go?’
    Magnus decided to be honest. ‘Outwardly well, although I have the feeling I did what he wanted.’
    A smile played at the corners of her lips. ‘Mr Coulter can be very persuasive. On my first interview with him, I realised he knew more about me by the end than I knew about him.’
    Magnus admired her frankness. Exchanging weaknesses had broken the ice.
    ‘He says he corresponds with someone called Caroline.’
    ‘He receives a lot of letters, mostly I believe from women.’
    ‘So you don’t know this Caroline?’
    She shook her head.
    ‘You were aware Coulter was keeping a diary?’
    ‘He wrote a lot when he first came in, but showed it to no one.’
    ‘You weren’t curious?’
    ‘Many inmates write their thoughts down. Most of what they write is nonsense linked to their illness.’
    ‘Is Coulter mentally ill?’
    ‘His mental state has responded to medication.’
    ‘He’s got better?’
    ‘He functions well, works hard at his dolls and is no trouble.’
    ‘But?’
    ‘There are no buts.’
    Magnus didn’t believe her.
    ‘Would you like to see the diary after I’ve studied it?’
    ‘We would have to ask Mr Coulter’s permission for that.’
    The barrier was back in place and Magnus wasn’t sure why. Dr Shan rose, clearly intending to terminate the interview. Magnus took his cue from her.
    ‘Thank you again for your help.’
    She gave a little nod, then led him to the door.
    As he drove away, the brooding presence of the building stayed with him until it eventually disappeared from his rear view mirror. Once it was out of sight, he pulled into a lay-by and got out of the car. The wind buffeted him, snatching at his hair and clothes. Magnus breathed in the moorland air, replacing the memory of Coulter’s smell. The sky grew darker and more threatening as he climbed back in the car. Had he had started on a journey he would live to regret?

5
    The footprint had been a long shot, so long that Rhona had never divulged her attempts at retrieving it to McNab. The chances of lifting anything at all from the trousers worn by the prisoner Bill was accused of attacking had been very slim. If she did succeed, there was no guarantee there would be sufficient in the pattern or deposit for a match. And what if the match had been Bill’s footwear, not McNab’s? Would she have submitted it to the investigating officer, thereby supplying even more evidence against Bill?
    She had tried to work on the principle that either man could be lying, Bill to