Wood sucked his teeth. ‘Not really.’

Macdonald stared at him.

Wood ignored it. ‘So how does this family love tally with the accusations you made about PS McKenna to his wife?’

‘I never made any accusations.’

‘You never said he was abusing his daughter?’

‘I told you last time, I never made any accusations.’

‘Why would Mrs McKenna make something like that up?’

‘You’d have to ask her,’ Ellie said. ‘She’s under a lot of stress. Maybe it was just a case of crossed wires.’

Wood snorted. ‘Really?’

‘Her son was missing,’ Ellie said. ‘Her husband in hospital. Unless you have a family, you can’t understand the strain of that.’

‘Oh, come on,’ Wood said.

Ellie looked at the wedding ring on Macdonald’s finger. If she had kids maybe she could understand the loss, the need to be useful, involved in the lives of others. That’s what Ellie was banking on.

‘Can you tell us what you’ve been up to since we spoke to you yesterday?’ Wood said.

Ellie thought for a moment. She wiped at her eyes and nose, buying time. Felt Ben’s hand still on her shoulder.

‘I think my wife has told you everything you need to know,’ he said.

‘No, she hasn’t,’ Wood said.

Ellie looked up, put a hand on Ben’s. ‘It’s OK. I’m fine.’

‘Since the interview yesterday,’ Wood said.

Ellie remembered getting in the car with Jack, walking back to the marina, coming home. Then all of today, back and forth in the car, out on the water. Everything.

‘I’ve just been at home mostly,’ she said.

‘I can vouch for that,’ Ben said.

‘Mostly?’ Macdonald said. She was still trying to be kind, trying to give Ellie options.

‘Maybe I went for a walk today,’ Ellie said.

‘Maybe?’ Wood said.

Ellie nodded. ‘I did. This morning.’ She remembered telling the cops the same thing in the station. Try to be consistent.

‘Another of your famous big walks,’ Wood said. ‘Can you remember this time where you went rambling to?’

She couldn’t say Port Edgar, didn’t want them even thinking of that place, going there and asking around. But she couldn’t say the other direction, along the High Street and the prom, because that led to the lock-up where Sam said he stayed.

‘The bridge.’

‘The road bridge?’ Macdonald said.

‘Yes.’

‘Why?’ Wood said.

‘I go up there every day.’

This was good, this was true. She was up there yesterday, first thing, she could use the truth to make a lie. She gave Macdonald a look, mothers together.

‘I go up there every day,’ she said. ‘Ever since Logan jumped.’

Wood shifted in his seat. ‘That’s a bit sick, isn’t it?’

Macdonald turned to him. ‘That’s enough, Jay.’

Her voice was sharp, and Wood slumped in his seat.

‘It’s something else I can’t explain,’ Ellie said. ‘I just have to go up there. It’s a compulsion. It’s the only connection I have with Logan now, that’s how it feels. My God, I sound crazy.’

Macdonald reached out and touched Ellie’s hand. ‘You don’t sound crazy, Ellie.’

Wood made a noise in his throat suggesting that’s exactly what Ellie was, but he didn’t say anything.

‘I need to get help,’ Ellie said.

Macdonald took her hand away, looked at her notebook.

‘You think?’ Wood said.

Macdonald glared at him.

‘It might be a good idea,’ Macdonald said. ‘Didn’t anyone offer you counselling after your son’s death?’

Ellie nodded. ‘I went for a while. Didn’t help. Nothing helps. Except walking and running and swimming.’

Ellie could feel the muscles in her arms and legs ache from the swim earlier. She was suddenly aware of the acid building up in them, and she longed to soak in a hot bath for hours.

‘That clearly hasn’t worked either,’ Wood said.

‘Jay, I told you already,’ Macdonald said.

Wood turned to her. ‘What? We get these crazies all the time, people hanging around victims or criminals, deluded folk who see stuff on telly and think it’s real, it’s part of their lives. She’s been hassling this family since it started. It’s a waste of police time.’

Macdonald had a look on her face that said Wood was going to get a solid bollocking as soon as he was out the door.

Ellie pressed her lips together in a sign of meekness. If she was just another crazy person wasting police time then that was fine.

Macdonald smiled at her. ‘I think we’re done here.’

‘But we might be back in touch,’ Wood said.

‘If there are any developments,’ Macdonald added.

They all stood up.

Ellie put an arm out, showing them towards the kitchen door.

‘I hope Mr McKenna shows up soon,’ she said. ‘I hate to think of that family without him.’

‘We have other lines of enquiry,’ Macdonald said in the hallway.

Ben spoke. ‘Like what?’

Wood made a noise, bringing yet another look from Macdonald.

‘It seems there might be some irregularities with PS McKenna’s police work,’ she said. ‘Internal Affairs are investigating. That’s all I can say.’

‘I’m sure he’ll show up soon,’ Ellie said, opening the door.

They were outside when Macdonald turned. Ellie thought of Wood and his Columbo moment, but he didn’t speak.

‘Thanks for your time, Ellie,’ Macdonald said.

‘Not at all,’ Ellie said, her hand on the doorframe. ‘Thank you for being so understanding. I’m sorry for any trouble I’ve caused.’

She closed the door with a trembling hand then kept it there for a long time, feeling the grain of the wood under her fingers.

41

She couldn’t sleep. Too much going through her mind, so much so she found herself grabbing at the bed sheets beneath her, her fingers like witches’ claws. She thought about Sam and Libby in their house, in their beds. Were they able to sleep? What about Alison, standing at the kitchen window with a glass of red wondering where her husband was? Ellie thought about the trail they’d left getting rid of Jack, but she honestly didn’t care, she would take whatever came her way.

She got out of bed and padded downstairs. Put the kettle on and made green tea. Seemed like half her life was spent tied to the kettle, the kitchen, cooking and cleaning up. It was her space in the house, a room her two men only entered to open the fridge or a cupboard and stuff their faces. And while she always used to moan about that, the stereotypical domestication of a woman in the home, she loved the headspace, the corner of isolation it provided. She longed to see Logan loping in, flinging the fridge door open too hard and shoving slice after slice of ham into his mouth.

She stared out the window and thought of him. In hindsight she began to think there had been signs, just maybe towards the end. Nothing specific and nothing like you hear about in other cases. No cries for help, no near misses, but there had been a closing down, perhaps, a withdrawal from his family and, it turned out, his friends too. Nothing drastic, no fights, no throwing himself on his bed in tears or rage, or smashing his room up. Just a gradual build up of resistance to life, like he was becoming petrified, slowly transforming from flesh to stone. She tried to talk to him but could never get him to open up. She should’ve tried harder, but how could she have known? She thought it was that worst of clichés, ‘just a phase’, and he’d come through it like 99 per cent of teenagers did.

But he was the one per cent. She tried to see what marked him out as different, as special, but there was nothing. That was the worst thing, what happened could’ve happened to any child, any teenager, any person on earth. It just happened to be him. Whether he was in his right mind or not didn’t matter. That didn’t even mean anything, ‘right mind’. In the end words completely failed to explain any of this experience, any of her son’s emotions or actions, any of Ellie’s reactions or distress, anything at all.