“Mobile’s on the back,” she said. “Oh, and one more thing—could we take a look at Jessica’s phone?”

“What?”

“I’m assuming it’ll be by her bedside somewhere…”

Traynor was starting to look annoyed again, but turned and went into the room, emerging moments later with the device.

“Thank you, sir,” Clarke said, taking it from him and turning to lead Rebus back down the corridor.

Rebus headed outside for a cigarette while Clarke bought the drinks. When he returned, he brought a hacking cough with him.

“Should I see if they’ve a spare bed in the emphysema ward?” she asked.

“I wasn’t lonely out there—hard to know if staff outnumbered patients or vice versa.” He took a sip from the cardboard cup. “I’m going to guess tea.”

She nodded, and they drank in silence for a moment. The café opened onto the hospital’s central concourse. There was a shop across the way, people queuing for sweets and crisps. Further along, another concession specializing in health foods was doing no trade at all.

“What do you make of him?” Clarke asked.

“Who? The David Dickinson lookalike?”

Clarke smiled. “Bit more George Clooney than that.”

Rebus shrugged. “He wears expensive suits and travels by private jet—I want to marry him, naturally.”

“Join the queue.” Her smile widened. “You have to say, though—he does love his daughter. Probably head of some big corporation, but drops everything to come north.”

Rebus nodded his agreement and managed another mouthful of tea before pushing the cup away.

“What you said to him about road rage,” Clarke went on, “was that off the top of your head?”

“Just trying to think of reasons why a careful driver would be putting the foot down.”

“It’s an idea. Reckon she lives in the city?”

“Bound to—maybe even in a flat bought by Mr. Pinstripe.”

“So what was she doing out there in the first place? It’s more or less a road to nowhere.”

“Something else for us to ask her,” Rebus agreed. “What did her phone offer up?”

“Unanswered calls and texts.”

“No sign she was using it while driving?”

Clarke shook her head. “On the other hand, if her dad is as sharp as he dresses…”

“He might have decided to delete any evidence of her stupidity.” Rebus nodded slowly.

Clarke’s own phone pinged, alerting her to a message. “It’s Page,” she said, checking the screen. “Wants an update.”

“That won’t take long.”

Another ping.

“And with perfect timing, Jessica’s awake.” Clarke started to rise from the table.

“Taking your tea with you?” Rebus asked.

“What do you think?” came the reply.

The same nurse was just leaving Jessica Traynor’s room as they arrived.

“Go easy on her,” she said in an undertone.

“We’re famous for it,” Rebus assured her.