Callum was being ridiculous. As if she meant that no criminal could ever be trusted again. Had she said anything, anything at all, to suggest that? She was merely stating facts. And she understood that he was sensitive about his dad, but jeez. That reaction. She swung hard into the road down to the boatyard and had to swerve to miss a dark grey Mazda coming out. ‘Idiot,’ she said aloud, glancing in the rear-view as it turned out onto the road, seeing that the numberplate ended with 733. She shook her head. Morons everywhere tonight. Natasha Osborne’s pale blue truck was parked in the concrete yard. Ella pulled up beside it. The doors to the workshop shed were open again. Light shone out onto the concrete, and a light was on in the flat upstairs. Beyond the building, the bay was black with night, the boats lost in the darkness, no candles visible anywhere. A breeze ran cool fingers along her neck as she walked to the open door. ‘Knock, knock.’ There was no answer.
