‘MIT would have been daft not to bring you on board,’ Rebus said. He gestured further into the station, but Clarke stood her ground.

‘Something that needs saying face to face?’ she nudged.

‘What is it with everybody guarding their territory today?’

‘What do you mean?’ She rolled her eyes as the truth hit her. ‘You went to the crime scene. Of course you did.’

‘Which makes this your lucky day. It’s the whole reason I’ve got something for you.’

‘You don’t get to do this, John. It was bad enough when you carried a badge. Number of times I had to lie through my teeth for you …’

‘Buyer’s remorse, Siobhan?’ He didn’t sound completely unsympathetic.

‘Just spit it out, will you?’

‘I would if my throat wasn’t parched. Blame the medication.’

She fixed him with a look before turning a hundred and eighty degrees, Rebus following as she unlocked the inner door.

‘Same old Leith,’ he said as he followed her upstairs.

‘My boss isn’t here right now, so let’s keep this low-key, eh?’

‘Your boss being …?’

‘DCI Katherine Trask.’

‘Can’t say I know the name. So where’s she off to?’

‘Autopsy. Took Fox with her. They’re updating the fiscal after.’

‘For which absence we are truly grateful.’ Rebus broke off as he saw that Clarke had walked straight past the MIT door and was leading him towards an interview room. ‘Really?’ he queried.

‘Really,’ she confirmed, ushering him inside. ‘Time to remember you’ve not been CID for a while.’

‘Fair enough, I suppose.’ He pulled out a chair and sat down. ‘Okay if I take my coat off?’

‘Fine.’

‘And the tea?’

‘I thought that was just a ruse?’ She watched Rebus pull a blister pack of tablets from his pocket. ‘Milk, no sugar?’ she said.

‘If it’s not too much trouble.’ He looked and sounded suddenly weary, shoulders slumped.

‘I’ll be right back.’

Rebus nodded slowly as he held the strip of tablets between both hands. Once she’d left, he counted to five, then opened the door, peering along the corridor. Clarke was marching out of the MIT room, carrying the empty kettle in the direction of the toilets. He stuffed the tablets back into his pocket, grabbed his jacket and made his escape.

‘Gang’s all here,’ he said, making his entry. ‘Christine, George, Tess …’

‘Nice surprise, John,’ Esson said, waving from her desk. ‘We wondered who the mystery visitor was.’

‘Who’s missing?’ Rebus asked, indicating the vacated desks.

‘Couple of kids called King and Ritchie,’ Tess Leighton answered. ‘They’re at Howdenhall. DCI’s taken DI Fox to …’

‘The mortuary,’ Rebus said, nodding. ‘Professor Quant doing the honours?’

‘You and her still winching?’ George Gamble said, his face almost a leer.

Rebus concentrated on Leighton. ‘How about you and Fox?’

She shook her head, the blood rising to her neck.