“I’ll manage,” he repeated into the silence, lowering the arm again and wishing he hadn’t raised it in the first place. His fingers sparked with pain as the blood pounded through them. “Have they spoken to you?” he asked.

“About what?”

“Come on, Siobhan…”

She looked at him, unblinking. Her hands emerged from their hiding place as she leaned forwards on the chair.

“I’ve another session this afternoon.”

“Who with?”

“The boss.” Meaning Detective Chief Superintendent Gill Templer. Rebus nodded, satisfied that as yet it wasn’t going any higher.

“What will you say to her?” he asked.

“There’s nothing to tell. I didn’t have anything to do with Fairstone’s death.” She paused, another unasked question hanging between them: Did you? She seemed to be waiting for Rebus to say something, but he stayed silent. “She’ll want to know about you,” Siobhan added. “How you ended up in here.”

“I scalded myself,” Rebus said. “It’s stupid, but that’s what happened.”

“I know that’s what you say happened…”

“No, Siobhan, it’s what happened. Ask the doctors if you don’t believe me.” He looked around again. “Always supposing you can find one.”

“Probably still combing the grounds for a parking space.”

The joke was weak enough, but Rebus smiled anyway. She was letting him know she wouldn’t be pressing him any further. His smile was one of gratitude.

“Who’s in charge at South Queensferry?” he asked her, signaling a change of subject.

“I think DI Hogan’s out there.”

“Bobby’s a good guy. If it can be wrapped up fast, he’ll do it.”

“Media circus by all accounts. Grant Hood’s been drafted in to handle liaison.”

“Leaving us short-changed at St. Leonard ’s?” Rebus was thoughtful. “All the more reason for me to get back there.”