She clicked to show the rest of the addresses and her breath caught in her chest. Everyone in the department was on the list

Fault Lines, by Doug Johnstone, is published by Orenda Books and costs £8.99.

And there they were, her and Tom, standing kissing outside the Roxburgh Hotel on Charlotte Square, her in one of her little summer dresses, him in a blue shirt, jacket and jeans. It was from two weeks ago, they’d been out for dinner in a new place on George Street round the corner, and were heading back to the hotel for a couple of hours if Surtsey remembered correctly.

They were just buzzed enough from the wine at dinner to be all over each other in the street, right when the picture was taken from across the road, by the looks of it.

The second picture was from a few moments later, both of them pulling back to look in each other’s eyes after the clinch, sharing an intimate joke or comment, Surtsey laughing and throwing her head back, Tom with clear devotion in his eyes, like he couldn’t believe his luck.

The third picture had them with their arms around each other, Tom with his hand resting gently on Surtsey’s buttock as they walked up the steps into the front door of the Roxburgh like a normal couple after a night out.

She looked at Tom’s face in the second picture, it captured so well how he looked at her, why she had kept things going.

Such a stupid ego boost, being adored like that by someone with authority just for being yourself.

Imagined

Her heart was racing as she scrolled up and down through the pictures, she couldn’t stop looking, remembering that night, the way they’d laughed at how bad his pork belly was in the restaurant, the cheesecake she’d made him order with two spoons, the single malt whiskies they’d had with coffee afterwards.

It was like he was back from the dead, and for a moment she imagined she would look up and see him sitting at his desk, smiling at her.

She checked the email for any more information but it was just these three pictures, no text.

She checked the email address it came from again, and only then realised there were other addresses in the CC line. Halima, Brendan, Rachel.

She clicked to show the rest of the addresses and her breath caught in her chest.

Everyone in the department was on the list, then two more email addresses at the end, Alice.lawrie@gmail.com and Jason.yates@scotland.pnn.police.uk. Oh god. His wife.

She thought for a moment, couldn’t work out the last one, then it registered. DCI Yates, the cop investigating Tom’s death. No.

She stood up and her chair went flying behind her. Halima was staring at her with wide eyes, as was Kezia. Brendan was already heading towards her desk.

“What were you playing at, Sur?” he said, his eyes wet already.

“Wait, Brendan, I can explain.”

He was at her desk now, fizzing with anger. “Oh please. Don’t you dare say it’s not what it looks like.”

Surtsey looked down at her desk for a moment, then realised the pictures were still on her computer screen. She wanted to click them away, but that would be crazy now, pointless.

Brendan had a hand on her desk, knuckles pressed against the wood. “You were making love with him?” Surtsey shook her head, just a tiny movement. “You weren’t? Is that what you’re saying?” Surtsey lifted her head. “It wasn’t like that.” “Oh really? Just what was it like, Sur?”

Amazement

She didn’t speak. His body was leaning towards her, and she wondered for a moment if he would lift his fists from the table and hit her.

“Well? I’m asking you. What was it like?” Halima was out of her seat but standing back, look of amazement on her face. Surtsey felt tears come to her eyes.

Brendan’s face turned hard. “Get lost, you don’t get to cry.” He stood watching her in disgust. “Unbelievable.”

He turned and walked out the office and down the corridor without looking back.

Kezia stood across the room, eyebrows just about at the roof.

Surtsey turned to Halima. With the light from the window behind her Surtsey couldn’t make out her expression, but her hands were clasped together like a prayer.

“Oh no, babes,” she said. “What were you thinking?”

Surtsey grabbed her bag from under the desk. “I have to get out of here,” she said.

Her feet pounded on the pavement, taking her out of King’s Buildings and up the road to Blackford Hill.

The adrenaline in her veins made her shake and she dabbed at the tears in her eyes, felt her breath jolt and shudder as she tried to compose herself.

She turned off at Craigmillar Park golf course and up the steep slope, past the last few houses then she was at the old observatory with its green copper dome, building work along one side for a new lecture theatre.

She went round to the right and up the grassy slope till she got to the trig point, then stopped, wheezing at the effort, and looked out over the city.

Incredible views from here, the castle sharp against the sky, Fife lurking behind.

She could see the new bridge over to the left, the Pentlands behind her, Arthur’s Seat, East Lothian, miles and miles of land, hundreds of thousands of people, lives just trundling along, people minding their own business, getting through as best they could.

She tried to think as her breathing regulated. A couple of crows were hopping about on the grass close by, looking for worms.

Expensive

She could smell the gorse blossom from the yellow bushes down the slopes, weirdly like a sharp version of coconut.

So everyone knew. Hal, Brendan, Alice. The police. The rest of the department.

Was this the same person as the one sending the texts to Tom’s phone?

If so, it meant that whoever it was had been following her and Tom around for a while now, at least two weeks. Why?

She looked out over the view to the north, the spread of expensive houses directly below, fanning out from the pond at the base of the hill.

Tom’s house was down there, in Mortonhall Road, easy walking distance to KB.

She thought about Alice down there, sitting at her kitchen table, a mug of tea, opening her laptop to find that email.

Or maybe that’s not how it played out. Maybe Alice wasn’t surprised at all by this news. Maybe Alice was behind it.

Surtsey stood there for a long moment, then began running down the hill.

More tomorrow.