“He lives up that way.”

“You reckon Cowan would be happier if I told him that was what I was doing?”

“Probably not.”

“Well, thanks for the warning anyway.”

“So we’ll see you this afternoon?”

“Will there be bunting?”

Bliss was stifling a laugh as he ended the call.

38

38

Cowan was on the phone when Rebus walked into the SCRU office. Bliss gave Rebus a wink and Elaine Robison added a little wave, their attitude suggesting that the workload had been managed more than adequately in his absence.

“He’s here now,” Cowan was saying into the receiver, eyes on Rebus. “Better late than never, I suppose.” He paused as he listened. “Yes, I’ll tell him. Straight away, yes.”

He ended the call and told Rebus not to bother taking his coat off. “DCI Page wants to see you. Any idea why that might be?”

Rebus was stumped. All he could come up with was that the case files were taking up space and needed to be moved.

“Where the hell have you been anyway?”

“Didn’t realize you would be pining for me, Dan…”

Out in the car park, Rebus apologized to the Saab one more time before starting the engine. There was a single dry cough of complaint before the motor caught. He got on the phone to Siobhan Clarke. Before she could speak, he told her that he’d just been to Inverness.

“And the thing is, I think Sally Hazlitt’s definitely still alive. Soon as that e-fit went public, she did a runner. I don’t suppose it counts as conclusive, but all the same…”

“Throwing into doubt your whole serial-killer theory?”

“Yes.”

“Thing is, John, there’s a problem with that—it’s why James wants to see you.”

“Oh?”

“Couple more victims by the look of it. We’ll tell you all about it when you get here.”

Two of the Gayfield Square detectives would be “hot-desking,” so that Rebus could have the one going spare. The boxes had been piled next to it and on it.

“The desk drawers are out of bounds, I’ve been told to advise you,” Page said. “DC Ormiston’s keeping his stuff in there for the duration.” They were in his office, Page seated behind his desk, Siobhan and Rebus standing. “Siobhan tells me you’ve changed your thinking about the first victim.”

“She tells me,” Rebus countered, “that there may be others.”

Page nodded and picked up a sheet of paper, reading from it.

“It’s the photo sent from Annette McKie’s phone. It chimed with a couple of families. Both have lost teenage daughters in the past five years. Suspected drownings, neither body recovered.”

“They sent photos from their phones the day they vanished?” Rebus guessed.

Page nodded slowly. “In one case, the photo no longer exists. But the parents swear it was the same as the one they saw on the news.”

“And the other family?”