Chapters (87)
- Cover
- Title Page
- Welcome
- Dedication
- Prologue
- i
- ii
- iii
- Part One
- 1
- 2
- 3
- 4
- 5
- 6
- 7
- 8
- 9
- 10
- 11
- Part Two
- 12
- 13
- 14
- 15
- 16
- 17
- 18
- 19
- 20
- 21
- 22
- 23
- 24
- 25
- 26
- 27
- 28
- Part Three
- 29
- 30
- 31
- 32
- 33
- 34
- 35
- 36
- 37
- 38
- 39
- 40
- 41
- Part Four
- 42
- 43
- 44
- 45
- 46
- 47
- 48
- 49
- 50
- 51
- 52
- 53
- Part Five
- 54
- 55
- 56
- 57
- 58
- 59
- 60
- 61
- 62
- 63
- Part Six
- 64
- 65
- 66
- 67
- 68
- 69
- About the Author
- Also by Ian Rankin
- Thank you for buying this e-book, published by Hachette Digital.
- Contents
Ellis debated with himself for a few seconds, then produced a bunch of keys from his pocket and found the right one, opening the door, calling out to Susie Mercer as he did so.
The room was dark. Rebus switched the light on. The curtain was closed, the bed unmade. The place was very similar to Fortune’s, down to the clothes rack and chest of drawers. But the hangers had been stripped and the drawers emptied.
“Looks like she’s done a flit,” Fortune said.
Rebus made a circuit of the room and the shower room off. Toiletries gone. Some women’s magazines left on the floor next to the bed. Pinholes on the wall above the headboard of the bed. Rebus pointed to them.
“Any idea what the pictures were?”
“A couple of postcards,” Fortune said. “One or two photos of her and her friends?”
“What friends?”
Fortune shrugged. “I never saw them in the flesh.”
“What about a boyfriend?”
“I’ve heard guys’ voices from time to time—”
“Well,” the landlord interrupted, “she’s not here and she’s not dead, so I think we can lock up again.” He looked at Rebus. “Unless you’ve brought a search warrant with you…”
Rebus didn’t want to leave. On the other hand, he couldn’t see anything worth lingering for. “Is the TV hers?” he asked.
“I think so,” Fortune said.
“It’s not mine,” Ellis added.
“It might be now,” Rebus said quietly. Susie Mercer had left in a hurry, taking only what she could carry. He handed business cards to both men.
“In case she gets in touch,” he explained.
“You don’t think she’s coming back, though?” the landlord asked.
Rebus shook his head slowly in reply. Not now her e-fit was out there…
36
36
He sat in his car and considered the situation. Then he remembered the cop he’d spoken to in Northern Constabulary, when he’d been tracking down the case files on Sally Hazlitt and Brigid Young. He had a name and contact number in his notebook, so he made the call. The police switchboard answered and he told them who he was and that he needed to speak to Sergeant Gavin Arnold.
“He’s not on shift,” he was eventually told.
“It’s a bit urgent. Would he mind you giving me his home or mobile number?”
“We can’t do that.”
“Maybe if I give you my number then, and you can get a message to him?”
“I’ll see what I can do.”
After ending the call, Rebus knew that all he could do was wait. In Inverness. Aka Dolphinsludge. On a dreich weekday evening with the temperature falling rapidly. He drove around without taking much of it in. A couple of supermarkets were open and looked busy. Men stood outside pubs, sucking hard at cigarettes, keen to get back inside. When his phone rang, he pulled over to the curb.