Rebus offered a shrug. “It just bugs me when people lie to my face. I start to wonder what it is they’re afraid of. In your case, it might be something or nothing, but until I know for sure…”

“Would it really matter if Forbes was in the car?” She was staring at him.

“If he was in the car, that means he left you there. Didn’t phone for help or flag down a passing motorist…”

“I don’t see why the police would be interested in any of that.”

Rebus gave another shrug. “What about your father? Won’t he be interested?”

“It’s not really any of his business, is it?”

“Fair enough.” Rebus watched as she checked the screen of her phone. Maybe she had messages and maybe she didn’t. “How long till you get to leave here?”

“I’ve got to talk to a physio first.”

“They’ll probably tell you to stay away from fast cars for a while.”

She managed a half-smile.

“And country roads at night,” Rebus added. “West Lothian isn’t called the Badlands for nothing.”

She looked up at him. “Badlands?”

“Because it’s largely lawless.”

“That explains a lot.” Rebus waited for more, but she pressed her lips together. A classic tell: she knew she’d let something slip.

“Jessica, if there’s anything you feel you need to—”

“Get out!” she yelled, just as a nurse entered the room. “I want him to leave! Please!”

Rebus already had his hands up in a show of surrender. He walked past the nurse and into the corridor.

Badlands?

That explains a lot.

Explained what, though? Something had happened that evening. Rebus made a little mental note to check back—the comms room at Bilston Glen would have records of anything that had been reported. Illegal races? Locals trying to scare the tourists?

“Something or nothing,” he muttered to himself, exiting the hospital and readying to light a cigarette. A black cab had pulled up. The passenger had left the backseat, preparing to pay the driver at the passenger-side window. Basic error by someone who was used to a different system—in Edinburgh you paid before getting out. Rebus walked over and waited behind Owen Traynor. He seemed to be wearing the same suit but a fresh shirt. The driver passed over some change and a receipt, and Traynor turned away, startled to find Rebus right in front of him.

“Bloody hell,” he said.

“Sorry, sir. I was just leaving.”

“You’ve been to see Jessica?”

Rebus nodded.

“And?”

“And what, Mr. Traynor?”

“Do you still think that boyfriend of hers was behind the steering wheel?”

“It’s a scenario.”

“Well maybe she’ll tell me.”

Rebus doubted it, but didn’t say as much. “Probably simpler for everyone if we just drop it,” he suggested instead. “Whatever the truth is, Jessica’s standing by Mr. McCuskey.”

“Yes, but if he did that to her…”