“What’s wrong?”

“I wouldn’t know where to begin.”

“Are you in trouble?”

“You could say that.”

“Trouble with the police?”

“They’re the least of my worries.”

“What is it? Tell me, Michael. I’ve been frantic with worry here.”

“I know, and I’m sorry. I couldn’t . . . I didn’t want . . . Oh, shit, it’s hopeless.”

“What do you mean?”

“I think they’re after me, Alex. Some very bad ­people.”

“What did you do?”

“I didn’t do anything. I just saw them, that’s all. I witnessed something I shouldn’t have.”

“When you went out on Sunday?”

“Yes. I went to meet Morgan. He said he had a job. He didn’t say what it was, just that he needed my help. I drove out to that old deserted airfield out Hallerby way.”

“What happened?”

“I can’t tell you.”

“Why not?”

“I just can’t, that’s all. Except it was awful.”

“Where are you now?”

“I can’t tell you that, either.”

“Why not? You mean you don’t know?”

“I mean it wouldn’t be safe for you to know. If you don’t know where I am, then you can’t tell anyone, can you?”

Alex bit her lip. She wasn’t so foolish as not to realize that if Meadows decided to torture her, she would have nothing to give up, nothing with which to save herself. ­People usually broke in the end, when they were tortured, and Alex didn’t think she could stand much pain—­physical or emotional. But if you really didn’t have the information the torturer wanted, what happened then? Not that she would ever betray Michael, but such were the chaotic thoughts that spun around in her mind. She was on the verge of telling him about last night’s visit and her broken finger, but she held off. What good would it do? It would only add to his burden of worries, and he didn’t sound as if he needed that right now. “What are you going to do?” she asked.

“I don’t know. I just wanted you to know that I’m all right. At least, I’m not hurt or anything.”

“Why didn’t you call sooner?”

“I couldn’t. I didn’t dare use my mobile. ­People can trace those things. They leave records of calls and stuff. And I’ve been lying low. I couldn’t get to a pay phone.”

He sounded far from all right to Alex. “Is there anything I can do?”

“I have to keep out of the way until it all blows over. I just wanted you to know I’m all right, that’s all. I saw the news this evening for the first time since it happened. I was in a pub and they had a big screen. I know they’re looking for me and Morgan, and I know that something happened at Belderfell Pass. A car crash. Animal parts. Perhaps a human body. It was all very vague, but I’m sure it’s all connected, Alex. I just wanted you to know that I’m OK. I thought you might be worried, that’s all.”

“Of course I’m worried, you idiot. The police have been around. How could I not be worried? What do you think this is doing to us?”

“Don’t be angry with me, love. I couldn’t stand that. Not now. I’m sorry. What did you tell them?”

“Nothing. I don’t know anything. And I’m not angry. I’m upset. I just wish you’d tell me what’s going on.”

“I can’t, love. Not yet. It doesn’t matter what you tell the police. Tell them what you want.”

“When are you coming back?”

“I don’t know. When it’s all over. They’ll have to get to the bottom of it without me, then it’ll be safe to come home. How’s Ian?”

“He’s fine. We’re both fine.”

“Give him my love. And be careful, Alex.”

“Why?”

“Just be careful, that’s all. I’ve got to go now.”

“Michael, don’t! Please. Tell me where you are. Let me come to you.”

“No. Stay there. Stay with Ian.”

“But when will I see you?”

“When it’s over. Remember I love you, Alex. Good-­bye.”

“Will you ring again?”

“I’ll do my best.”

Alex held on to the phone, tears in her eyes, but the other end went dead. She sat still for a while holding the phone, staring at but not seeing the meaningless images moving around on the TV screen, her heart pounding in her chest, stomach churning, head aching. This was worse than when Lenny had hit her. There was no end in sight. Just when she thought she had found something worthwhile, something she could hold on to, it had been snatched from her.

Alex threw the phone onto the sofa, where it bounced to the floor, downed the rest of her wine and poured another full glass. She knew that alcohol wouldn’t help, but she could think of nothing else to dull the edges of her pain except perhaps a ­couple of those pills the doctor had prescribed. Maybe even the whole bottle. What the hell was Michael playing at, gambling with their future like this? She knew he must be in serious trouble or he wouldn’t have left her and Ian the way he had. He loved them. She had to cling to that. It was all she had.

Finally, she could think of nothing else to do, and she could no longer stand doing nothing, or feeling so alone, so she picked up the phone, took out the policewoman’s card and called the number DI Cabbot had written on the back.

“THE OFFICE” meant the Queen’s Arms. If Banks had meant his office at the station, he would have said “my office.” It was going on for eight o’clock, and the pub was starting to fill up, which no doubt brought cheer to the heart of Cyril the landlord. The usual oldies selection was a bit loud, so they had to raise their voices to talk. Still, Banks thought it was pleasant enough to hear occasional fragments of “Wouldn’t It Be Nice” or “She’s Not You” in the background. A lot of pubs used themed satellite radio feeds, but not the Queen’s Arms. Cyril was an intrepid pop fan, still stuck in the late fifties and early sixties, and he played his iPod through the pub’s music system. If anyone didn’t like it, they were welcome to drink elsewhere.

Banks noticed that Lisa Gray was working that night. She had short hair now, and most of the facial metal was gone. He knew that Winsome had developed a close relationship with Lisa during their previous case, and that they kept in touch. She smiled from behind the bar and he gave her a quick wave. Annie came back with the drinks.

Annie sipped some of her beer. “I still can’t see Michael Lane as the villain,” she said. “All he ever did before was take a joyride because he was mixed up and upset after his mother left. Since then, he’s found a serious relationship. He has a kid to think about, too.”

“Maybe all that was too much for him?” Banks argued. “Maybe he felt stifled and had to get out? Or maybe he just cracked under the responsibility? You said they don’t have much money, that they’re struggling.”

“Yeah, but at least they’re trying. They weren’t doing so badly. And if that was the case, if Michael suddenly couldn’t take the pressure anymore, then Alex Preston wasn’t aware of it.”

“I never expected Sandra to walk out on me for another bloke,” said Banks. “But she did. These things happen, Annie.”

In the silence that followed that remark, Lisa Gray approached the table with two plates. “Who wanted the salad and who wanted burger and chips?”

Banks and Annie exchanged a few moments’ small talk with Lisa until she returned to her position behind the bar. Once they had settled down to their food, Banks went on. “I know you’re emotionally involved and you don’t want to think ill of Alex Preston or Michael Lane,” he said, “and I’m sure they are trying their best to make a go of it, but we’re not in the business of rehabilitation.” He nodded toward Lisa. “Sure, Winsome took a damaged young woman under her wing and worked miracles, but let’s not get carried away with the social work. Don’t you think Alex might be just a little naive, especially when it comes to Michael Lane? Don’t they say love is blind? Let’s not allow it to blinker your judgment.”

“I’m not.”

“All I’m saying, Annie, is that we can’t always save their souls, and we shouldn’t expect to. Half the time we can’t even save their bodies. Believe me, I’ve met plenty of deserving cases in my time, and sometimes I’ve even helped them, but sometimes I haven’t. Sometimes it even worked. Often it didn’t, and they went on to commit more serious crimes. We’re not psychologists or miracle workers.”