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‘Tell him,’ she said.

‘They were the three jurors who voted not guilty at your trial,’ he said gently.

‘Oh no,’ Atkinson cried, his hand going to his mouth. As much as it could, his face blanched.

Poe pressed on.

‘The killer is ruthless, resourceful and well-funded and, although your being alive proves he hasn’t yet located you, we believe it’s only a matter of time before he lands on Montague Island. Superintendent Nightingale has over two hundred police officers working this case and we are no nearer to identifying or catching him.’

‘But … but why?’ Atkinson said. ‘What possible motivation could he have?’

‘Superintendent Nightingale is following

several lines of enquiry, one of which is that someone who lost everything when the waste management plant went bust hired him.’

‘Someone from J. Baldwin is trying to kill me?’

‘It’s possible they’ve hired the services of this man, yes. We’re watching them, of course, although whoever’s behind this is not our primary concern right now. The most pressing matter is to find the killer before he finds you. That’s why Superintendent Nightingale sent out officers last night and why we walked across the sand flats this morning.’

‘What makes you think he’ll be able to find me, though?’ Atkinson said. ‘Witness protection changed my identity to Ian Carruthers. Everything’s registered under that name. There’s nothing on the island under the name of Edward Atkinson.’

‘I don’t want to appear rude, Mr Atkinson, but you don’t exactly blend in. How long do you think it’ll take a determined and resourceful man to find out where the man in the mask lives?’

Atkinson gave it some thought.

‘A long, long time,’ he said eventually.

Chapter 63

‘Let me explain,’ Atkinson said. ‘The builders who renovated my bungalow did so under the guidance of the architect. None of them met me and I didn’t move in until after they’d left. I purchased the land via email and under my witness protection name. You haven’t been on the island long but I can assure you, everyone here fiercely protects their privacy – I haven’t seen or spoken to any of my neighbours in years and during the colder months none of them are here anyway.’

‘Even so—’ Poe said.

‘My provisions are brought in by sea and left on the terrace,’ Atkinson continued. ‘I do not meet with the people who deliver them and the account is settled monthly under the name Carruthers. I have a handyman on retainer in case I need assistance but I’ve never had to call upon his services. I don’t meet with these people out of any concern for my security, you understand, but because I’m hideous. South Cumbria is not a progressive place and I will not become an object of curiosity. And don’t forget, I could be anywhere in the world. The money I got from Cumbria Constabulary and from J. Baldwin was not inconsiderable – to any right-minded person, an isolated and inhospitable island off the coast of Barrow-in-Furness would be the last place to look for a man in a wheelchair.’

Poe conceded he had a point.

‘This is a safe place for me to be, trust me.’

Nightingale, who’d hadn’t spoken for a while, said, ‘Be that as it may, Mr Atkinson, now I’ve identified you as being at risk I have a statutory duty of care. I realise we fucked that up spectacularly last time and I appreciate we’re the last people you want to see, but I promise you, we’re not going anywhere. If I have to put fifty police officers on and around this island I will. I would rather have your cooperation but I don’t actually need it. This is an active murder investigation and putting you under surveillance is a legitimate tactic.’

Atkinson let out a lisping sigh. He shrugged and said, ‘I can’t stop you from using the island’s public land but I will not have Cumbria Police on my property. If I have to, I’ll go to the press.’

Nightingale was about to protest but Atkinson raised his hand to stop her.

‘However, I can see a compromise is needed. How about this: as Mr Poe isn’t Cumbria Police, I will allow him to stay with me until this thing’s resolved. Is this agreeable?’

Atkinson and Nightingale negotiated for ten minutes. They finally agreed that Poe could rotate with Flynn if she were up for it. Nightingale had been reticent about allowing a heavily pregnant woman to take on the task but agreed that the decision was Flynn’s, not hers.

‘I’ll start now, ma’am,’ Poe said. ‘Can you call DI Flynn for me when you get back? See if she’s OK with what we’ve agreed?’

‘You can email her if you want,’ Atkinson said.

‘You have the internet?’ Poe said, surprised.

Atkinson’s scars distorted as he smiled. ‘We have an arrangement with the wind farm company. The wi-fi network they use to remotely access the turbines passes over our heads and they let us piggyback on it. One of the perks of living out here.’

‘I’ll email her when you’ve gone, ma’am,’ Poe said. ‘She’ll want to do her bit, though – she’s been feeling left out recently.’