Arnold was still chewing as they reached the inquiry room. He made another gesture—letting Rebus know he should wait there—before disappearing through the door. When he came out again, he was holding a clear plastic envelope containing several CD-sized silver disks.

“Laptop?” he asked.

Rebus shook his head.

Arnold gave a twitch of the mouth as if to indicate that he’d expected this. He led Rebus along the corridor until he found a room with an unused desk. He gave the mouse a nudge, activating the monitor, then entered his password.

“CaleyThis?” Rebus inquired.

“Short for Caledonian Thistle.” Arnold pulled out the chair and nodded for Rebus to sit down. The disk drive was on the floor beneath the desk, and he crouched in front of it, sliding home the first of the disks.

“Eight hours’ worth,” he warned Rebus.

“Won’t take me nearly that long.”

“Anybody asks, you tell them whatever story you like.”

“Keeping your name out of it?” Rebus guessed. Then he held out his hand. “Thanks, Gavin.”

The two men shook, and Arnold left him to it.

Rebus reckoned he could focus on a specific hour of comings and goings on the petrol station’s forecourt—thirty minutes either side of Annette McKie’s arrival in Pitlochry. The first disk he tried was no help, being too early in the day. Ditto the second and third. When he got to the fourth, he fast-forwarded, keeping an eye on the clock in the corner of the screen. Eventually, when he was happy, he leaned forwards and watched intently.

Dempsey couldn’t place him at first. When she did, her face tightened. “How the hell did you get in here?”

Rebus had hidden the visitor’s badge in his pocket. “Not a crime, is it?” he asked.

“Actually, it probably is.”

He had found her in one of the meeting rooms. She had been seated but was now standing. The other officer was wondering what was going on. Dempsey dismissed the man with a wave and an announcement that they would finish their discussion later. Once she was alone with Rebus, she folded her arms and waited.

“I’ve got him,” was all Rebus said. She saw that he was holding a small silver object in one hand.

Both Magrath brothers, along with Kenny’s wife, Maggie, were brought in for questioning that same afternoon. Search warrants had been applied for, and Dempsey seemed to think they wouldn’t be long arriving. Meantime, preliminary questions were being asked of neighbors in Rosemarkie.

The media had reacted quickly to the news. The ranks of reporters had swollen outside HQ, and a radio car was in position, a satellite dish on its roof. No TV as yet, or none that Rebus could see from the windows of the inquiry room. He had asked to be present at the interviews, but Dempsey had put the kibosh on it. He wasn’t even a serving police officer—a lawyer could make “potentially devastating” use of that.

“In fact,” she’d told him, “best thing would be if you went back to Edinburgh. And remind me, how did you get in here in the first place?”