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Sinclair’s expression doesn’t change. “We have evidence linking him to thefts at the Glen Garve Resort.”

I shake my head. “No, he’s innocent.”

Robbie appears behind me. “I didn’t steal anything,” he says firmly. “You’ve got the wrong person.”

“It’s Samantha Drummond you want,” I add, desperation creeping into my voice. “She’s the one who framed him.”

Sinclair sighs, looking almost regretful. “Robbie, you’ll have the opportunity to tell your side of the story at the station. For now, I need you to come with us.”

“You can’t be serious,” I protest.

But Sinclair nods to Muir, who steps forwards with handcuffs.

“Robert MacDonald,” she says formally, “I am arresting you on suspicion of theft. You do not have to say anything, but it may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence.”

She cuffs Robbie’s wrists behind his back. His jaw tightens, the only sign this is affecting him.

“Never thought I’d have to bring you in again, Robbie,” Sinclair says. “Thought you’d turned a corner.”

Robbie meets his gaze steadily. “I did. I didn’t do what you’re accusing me of.”

There’s history between the pair. Sinclair has been in the police for as long as I can remember, and although Robbie is innocent of this, his reputation wasn’t built on nothing. There was a time when Robbie kept Sinclair rather busy.

“Let’s go.” Sinclair gestures towards the stairs.

I trail after them, numb, my mind whirring uselessly. They’re actually taking him away, and there’s nothing I can do but watch.

When we step out onto Main Street, my heart drops even further. Typical Bannock—news here travels faster than rain clouds over Ben Nevis. Someone must’ve clocked the police car, and now a wee knot of people has gathered outside the Pheasant, necks craning for a better view.

“He’s innocent!” I shout, loud and unashamed. “He’s been set up!”

But my words fall on deaf ears. I catch snippets of conversation as people whisper away to each other.

“Always knew he’d land himself in bother again.”

“Once a troublemaker, always a troublemaker.”

“Remember when he smashed up that bus shelter?”

“I heard he used to take part in illegal fights in Inverness. Nearly killed a man once.”

Robbie keeps his head high and his gaze fixed straight ahead as Sinclair guides him towards the waiting car. But I can see the tension in his shoulders, the way his hands clench into fists behind his back.

“You’ve got the wrong person!” I try again, my voice cracking with desperation. “He didn’t do this!”

This outburst earns me some withering looks and a chorus of tuts. Mrs Fraser, whose son is in my S2 English class, approaches and lays her hand on my arm, all pity and pursed lips.

“Catriona, as a teacher at the high school, you may want to think twice about associating yourself with someone like Robbie MacDonald. It doesn’t send the right message.”

I jerk away from her touch. “You don’t know him. None of you do!”

But it’s too late. The car door slams shut on Robbie, then Sinclair slides into the driver’s seat and the car pulls away. I’m left behind, feeling completely powerless. Was all our detective work for nothing?

The crowd begins to disperse, their entertainment over for the evening. A few people cast sympathetic glances my way, but most just shake their heads, like I’m nothing more than some daft girl who’s been taken in by Bannock’s notorious bad boy.

“Ach well, leopards never change their spots,” someone says.

I’m about to round on them when a familiar voice calls my name. Turning, I see Maisie and Jamie coming over. Without a word, Maisie wraps me in a hug, and that’s when something inside me snaps and tears finally break free.