Rebus didn’t remember the case at all, but then Aviemore was a long way north of Edinburgh.

“Tom and I had to travel up to Scotland—”

“Where from?” Rebus interrupted her. He’d taken it for granted that though her accent was English, she lived in the city.

“London,” she informed him. “Crouch End—do you know it?” Rebus shook his head. “We were lucky—Tom’s parents helped us buy the place when we were first married. They’d come into some money.” She paused. “I’m sorry, I know none of that’s relevant.”

“You’ve been told as much?” he guessed.

“By very many police officers,” she admitted with another rueful smile.

“So how did you end up talking to DI Magrath?” Rebus asked, genuinely curious.

“I talked to everyone—everyone who had time for me. DI Magrath had been mentioned in a newspaper. He specialized in unsolved crimes. And after the second one…” She saw that she had his attention and took a deep breath, as if preparing for a recitation. “May 2002, A834 near Strathpeffer. Her name was Brigid Young. She was thirty-four and worked as a chartered accountant. Her car was parked by the road. It had a flat tire. She was never seen again. So many people go missing every year…”

“But something made this one stand out?”

“Well, it’s the same road, isn’t it?”

“Is it?”

“Strathpeffer is just off the A9—look at a map if you don’t believe me.”

“Right,” Rebus said.

She gave him a hard stare. “I recognize that tone. It means you’re beginning to wonder about me.”

“Is that a fact?”

She ignored him and plowed on. “The third was in 2008 on the A9 itself—a garden center between Stirling and Auch…” She frowned. “The place with Gleneagles Hotel.”

“Auchterarder?”

She nodded. “A twenty-two-year-old called Zoe Beddows. Her car was in the car park all the next day and the day after. That’s when suspicions were raised.”

Rebus had smoked his cigarette down to its filter. “Ms. Hazlitt…” he began. She held her hand up to stop him.

“I’ve heard it too many times not to know what you’re about to say. There’s no evidence, no bodies have ever turned up, so as far as you lot are concerned, there’s no crime. I’m just a mother whose reasoning has disappeared along with her only child. Does that cover it, Inspector?”

“I’m not an inspector,” he replied quietly. “I used to be, but these days I’m retired. I work for the police in a civilian capacity. Outside of Cold Cases, I have no authority, which means I’m not much use to you.”

“But what are these if they’re not cold cases?” Her voice had risen and taken on a slight tremor.

“It’s possible I can think of someone else for you to talk to.”

“You mean CID?” She waited for him to nod. Wrapping her arms around herself, she turned away from him. “I’ve just come from there. The inspector hardly gave me the time of day.”

“Maybe if I speak to him first…” Rebus reached into his jacket for his phone.