“He didn’t trust the person he was meeting?”

Fox nodded. “Maybe reckoned they’d bring backup.”

“Stefan Gilmour and the Saints?”

Fox just shrugged. They were clambering up the slope. The canal wasn’t well lit. In fact, the only real illumination came from lampposts beyond its other bank, behind railings and next to the main road.

“Someone could have been watching from there,” Clarke surmised.

“Watching, yes. But to get to the nearest bridge and then end up here…that’s a walk of a good five or six minutes.”

Clarke folded her arms. “And Saunders was shot at close range. So whether he trusted his visitor or not, he allowed them to get close.”

“Close enough to talk.”

“Talk or listen.” Clarke thought for a moment. “Let me know if any of this leads you to believe we’re not discussing Stefan Gilmour…”

“Well for one thing, Gilmour’s not an easy man to get to. Phone number’s not in the book, unlike George Blantyre and Eamonn Paterson.”

“You’ve checked?” She watched as Fox nodded. “And Rebus?”

“Is ex-directory.”

She considered this. “It was an arranged meeting, right?”

“Had to be.”

“And whoever Saunders met wasn’t the one who initiated it?”

“Hard to do when they’d no idea how to reach him.”

“Unless the plan to meet predated his little vanishing act.”

“True,” Fox allowed. “But I don’t think that’s what happened.”

Clarke looked at him. “You’ve been giving this some thought?”

“Trying to think like a detective,” he answered, with a thin smile.

“And?”

“And we have a man who’s terrified of something—so scared he abandons his car in another part of town, far from where he knows he’s going to hole up. Hotels won’t do, and he can’t rely on friends—to be absolutely safe, he needs to sleep rough. Can’t use his bank account or phone—both could be traced, or at the very least would indicate he’s still alive and kicking. For the same reason he can’t contact his wife to let her know he’s safe.” Fox paused. “But there’s someone he needs to see. Easiest way to set up a meeting is if he calls them.”

“Nearest working phone box is almost two miles away.”

“But there’s the petrol station. From CCTV, we know he bought snacks there.”

“Except that their public phone has been out of order for almost a fortnight.”

“Something he might not find out until he tried using it.”

She saw now where Fox was going. “Staff knew him. Might have loaned him their phone.”

“Of course, they’ve been interviewed. But do we know they were asked the right questions, shown a good clear photo of Saunders?”

“Worth a second go?”

“I’d say so.”

“And we’re not just clutching at straws here, Malcolm?”

“Maybe we are.”