It was desperate stuff. If the team had looked full of energy at the start, they were now a lot more somber, pessimism setting in. Rebus had lost sight of the dog handler, but he found him again: already halfway across the field, heading for the line of trees beyond. He was passing another of the search teams as it headed back. One of the officers bent down as if to stroke Ruby, but then straightened up—warned off, Rebus reckoned. Ruby had been trained for work, not play.

There were mutterings at the food car. Phones were being checked for messages, held high in the air as a signal was sought.

“Better luck tomorrow,” someone commented.

“As long as the weather holds.”

Rebus asked about the forecast.

“Grim,” he was told.

“Maybe sleet,” another voice added. Then: “Are you from Edinburgh?”

Rebus nodded.

“I hate that place,” the cop said. “Cannot bloody stand it.”

“I’m guessing you’re from Inverness.”

The man scowled at Rebus. “Hate that place, too. Dingwall’s good enough for me.”

“Isn’t it time for your meds, Bobby?” someone else inquired, causing a few tired smiles.

Half an hour later, the message came through from HQ: call it a day. Dempsey would not be coming back. Someone was given the task of locking the Portakabin.

“We’re leaving the evidence here overnight?” Rebus asked.

“If you can call it evidence. The Chief will take a look at it in the morning and decide what to do.”

“How much more ground still to cover?”

“Plenty.”

Rebus watched the teams prepare their escape. There were mutterings from those whose vehicles were stuck the wrong side of the Portakabin—long detours lay ahead of them. Cars had to be maneuvered past other cars. One got stuck, muddy tires spinning, and had to be pushed off the verge. As the last patrol car reversed down the lane, the four officers inside gave Rebus a little wave. They were talking about him, breaking into grins. Rebus didn’t bother waving back. The dog-handling van was still there, about twenty yards separating it from Rebus’s Saab. These were the only two vehicles left. Dusk had descended, and Rebus could see about two thirds of the field. There was no sign of Ruby and her colleague. He leaned against his car and smoked a cigarette, stubbing it out afterward into the Saab’s ashtray—didn’t want to leave anything behind that could be misread as a clue. Not that this seemed to have occurred to the search teams. Crusts of bread and bits of sweetcorn were scattered on the roadway next to where the food car had been. There was even a discarded plastic water bottle in the ditch. Rebus picked it up and threw it onto his passenger seat.

A waste of time, maybe, but all the same…