‘We’re going to be getting her some soon,’ he said, looking into the stark, lifeless room that he hadn’t used in years. It smelled of damp and stale air. ‘She hasn’t been for a little while, but the sheets are clean.’ He forced another smile. ‘Go on. In you go.’

Hesitantly, she stepped inside, and went over to the bed, looking down at it. ‘Maybe I’ll come back downstairs if that’s okay,’ she said, turning back towards him.

‘No. I think it’s best you stay here for now,’ he said, and before she could answer back, he shut the door and turned the key in the lock.

Now she was his.

Forty-four

Today 16.40

THERE WAS NO sign of Amanda Rowan at her house. Bolt had already called the landline and got no answer, but when he tried her mobile, the automated message said it was switched off. He then called his contact in Highlands CID, DI Sally Miles, who told him that a liaison officer had been sent over to give her the news that Leonard Hope’s body had been found, and that Bolt was going to be paying her a visit, but she hadn’t heard back from him. The liaison officer was a DC Andy Baxter and Sally gave Bolt his number, but then when he called that one, there was no answer either.

Bolt left a message asking Baxter to call him back urgently, before pocketing his phone. ‘Christ, what is it with the people round here? Ninety per cent of the time you can’t get reception, and when you do, no one picks up their bloody phone.’

‘Well,’ said Mo. ‘Should we wait for her?’

They were standing outside the front door of Amanda’s rental cottage at the edge of a pretty little village backing onto fields about twenty miles southwest of Inverness. If she’d wanted to get away from it all, she couldn’t have picked a better place.

‘No, let’s head back up to our hotel. We can come back later.’ Bolt put a note through her door asking her to call him, then he and Mo walked back to the car. A local man walking his dog along the road stared at them as he passed. Two strange men in suits, one of whom was Asian, were always going to stand out. There was a pub that looked more like a church hall about fifty yards down the road, and Bolt thought about stopping and grabbing a drink – after all, it was the weekend, and he could do with a decent pint – but he decided against it. Maybe he’d down a couple later on, back at the hotel where they were billeted for the night.

Somewhere in the distance came the distinctive retorts of gunfire.

‘Someone’s out hunting,’ said Mo.

Bolt wasn’t really listening. Once again, he was turning over the case in his mind. ‘You know,’ he said eventually, ‘something’s not been right about the Rowan/Hanzha killings from the beginning. First off, there was no trace of Leonard Hope’s DNA at the murder scene, but there was DNA from a different, as yet unidentified, killer. Secondly, there was footage of every murder scene on Hope’s computer except for the Rowan/Hanzha one.’

‘So, what are you saying, boss?’

‘I don’t know, that’s the problem. I mean, I know there are plenty of similarities with the Hope killings as well.’

‘The fact that the killer used the same MO makes it likely it’s him.’

‘And yet it isn’t, is it? It was a different killer.’

‘But we’ve already covered this. There could have been two Disciples working together.’

‘But if Vladimir Hanzha was the man behind the kidnapping and murder of Hope – and we reckon he is, right?’

Mo nodded slowly, clearly yet to be convinced. ‘Right.’

‘Then the two-killer theory doesn’t hold up. Remember, there was never any evidence of a second killer found anywhere – not on Hope’s footage of the killings, not in any of his phone records. The only place it was ever found was at that one murder scene.’

‘So you’re saying the killer of Ivana Hanzha and George Rowan might be someone completely different, and unconnected to The Disciple?’

‘It’s got to be a possibility, hasn’t it?’

They stood facing each other over the car. ‘I guess so,’ said Mo. ‘Are you thinking it’s some kind of copycat killing?’

Bolt shook his head. ‘No, I don’t think it is. I’m thinking that maybe – and it is still a maybe, because I’ve got nothing to back this up with – it was just meant to look like the work of The Disciple. Which means we should try and look at it in a different way. Who had the motive to kill either Ivana Hanzha or George Rowan?’

‘Someone might have killed Miss Hanzha to get at her father,’ said Mo. ‘He’s a controversial figure, and I’d say he must have plenty of enemies.’

‘I bet he has too, but it seems an awfully complicated way of doing it. Far easier just to shoot her in the street. And, anyway, they’d been estranged for years. I reckon she’s the least likely of the two targets.’

Mo shrugged. ‘We didn’t dig up anything much on George Rowan. He’s got no obvious enemies. As far as we could tell, he’s just a boring banker.’

‘But one with quite a lot of money, and quite a lot of assets.’

‘He’s worth a couple of million, I think. Maybe three, if you include the house.’

‘What about life insurance policies?’

‘We never checked. There didn’t seem much point at the time.’

Bolt nodded. ‘Exactly. Why would we, when we all thought it was the work of The Disciple? But I think it’s worth checking now, don’t you?’

‘You think there’s going to be a policy?’

Bolt thought about it for a moment. ‘Yes,’ he said. ‘I do. And I’m willing to bet that the beneficiary’s going to be Amanda Rowan.’

Forty-five

Today 21.23

TIRED, AND NOT sure what else he could do, having covered miles in the last hour on his hunt for Casey, Scope finally made his way back to the Tayleigh Road. God only knew what had happened to the poor kid. He’d doubled back on himself, gone in circles; stood listening to the sounds of the forest for several minutes at a time, trying to detect her presence. And all without coming across the slightest sign of her. He was beginning to wonder now if he’d been mistaken about her body not being where he’d thought it had fallen.

But maybe it was possible that she had got away after all, which meant that Scope was going to have to try to hook up with Jess and make sure she was all right. He hoped she’d managed to find a spot with phone reception so she could call for help, but he knew how poor the coverage was round here, and he could hear no sound of sirens across the night air.

The road was dark and silent, but Scope could see the faint glow of a light ahead and he quickened his pace. If this was a house, he was going to have to raise the alarm. He didn’t want to, because it meant that he’d have to wait around to answer questions which, given that he’d killed two men tonight, meant that he’d almost certainly be arrested, and potentially charged with murder. In the end, neither killing had been self-defence. He’d shot both men when they were presenting no threat to him or anyone else. Scope was no expert in ballistics, but he guessed that from the angle of the bullet entries and the position of the bodies, it would be possible to tell that he’d stood above them to deliver the fatal shots, which wasn’t going to reflect very well on him, particularly with his past. But he had no choice but to call the police. Two young girls were out here, alone, terrified, and in mortal danger, and if he didn’t do all he could to help them, he’d never be able to forgive himself.

The light was getting closer now and he could see that it came from a cottage set back behind a high hedge. Immediately, he broke into a jog and, as he reached it, he saw that there was a car in the driveway and lights from both floors. He unscrewed the suppressor on the gun he’d taken from the man he’d just killed, slipped it into his jacket pocket, and put the gun itself out of sight in the back of his jeans. The magazine contained three bullets, and he wasn’t going to get rid of it until he was sure that Jess and Casey were both safe.