It was mid afternoon before Nina Hazlitt called. Rebus didn’t answer, but listened afterward to her message.

“Is it true they’ve found two more? The internet’s full of gossip about it. I should have known. I can’t believe I didn’t spot them in the papers. But it means I’m right, doesn’t it? Right about the A9, right about them all being connected.” She was sobbing between sentences. “Please call me back—you promised you would. You said I’d be the first to know. I need you to tell me what’s happening. Sally was the start of this, John—don’t forget that. I have a stake…Do you hear me? Don’t shut me out!”

Clarke emerged from Page’s office and approached his desk, just as Nina Hazlitt broke down into sobs again and ended her call.

“Hazlitt knows about the two new additions,” he said.

“So soon?”

“All over the internet, apparently.”

Clarke gnawed at her bottom lip. “As some might say, this shit just got serious.”

“It was always serious, Siobhan.”

“True,” she agreed. “But now everyone’s taking it seriously.”

“Did you get a rough ride at HQ?”

“Not particularly, though it was made clear that if we’re reading more into this than is actually there…”

“You can always lay the blame on me,” Rebus suggested.

“I’ll bear that in mind.” She managed the beginnings of a smile. “So…Inverness in the morning.”

“It could almost be a country song.” Rebus paused. “Thanks for inviting me along, by the way.”

“Least I could do.”

“And you almost didn’t do it at all. It’s as though my reputation precedes me.”

“Well, there is that.”

“Seems to me the focus has shifted from Annette McKie,” Rebus commented.

“Only because we’ve no new leads.”

“I can’t see her family being thrilled about it.”

Clarke could do nothing but shrug. Then: “Think I should talk to her mother?”

“Might be nice if someone did, before she hears about Golspie and Loch Ness.”

“Yes, you’re right.”

“Maybe get Christine and Ronnie to do it, though—good training before they head north. And best be quick—news travels at broadband speeds these days.”

41

41

That evening, Cafferty turned up at the door of Rebus’s flat.

“Can’t be that time already,” Rebus complained.

“Just fancied a drink,” Cafferty responded. He was dressed as usual in a black leather jacket with a black polo-neck beneath.

“You seem happy,” Rebus said.

“I’m fine.”

Rebus had already finished packing and had been considering setting out on the road. A drink was a decent enough alternative. It would stop him driving, meaning he’d get to Inverness in daylight rather than the middle of the night.

“Somewhere walking distance,” he stipulated.

Cafferty bowed his head. “I dare say you know the local hostelries.”

“I’ll get my keys, then. And this time you stay that side of the threshold…”