“What the hell are you doing, John?” he asked himself. Returning to Gregor Magrath’s cottage, he wrote out a note and pinned it under one of the Land Rover’s windscreen wipers.

All it said was: This has to end.

As he headed home, he noticed that the roadworks to the north of Pitlochry seemed to have finished. It wasn’t just that no one was working—one of the Portakabins was being loaded onto a flatbed truck, and the Portaloos had already gone. He wondered what would happen to the men—did they have new projects waiting for them? A never-ending process of digging up and resurfacing?

“Join the club,” he said aloud.

And what of Thomas Robertson? Rebus had phoned Aberdeen Royal Infirmary a few days back, but of course Robertson was no longer a patient. Maybe he was back at the Tummel Arms, explaining to Gina Andrews why he’d lied to her about his conviction. Or maybe he was on the road to somewhere else, no real end point in mind.

Rebus saw that he was down to a quarter-tank of fuel, so he pulled into Pitlochry itself and crawled through the bustling center until he reached the petrol station. As he started filling up, a voice called to him.

“What happened to the Audi?”

Rebus looked to the next pump along and recognized the rep he’d talked to when he’d been waiting for Clarke to ask her questions in the kiosk.

“Small world,” the man said with a smile.

“Cigarette break after?” Rebus suggested. The man looked keen. They filled their tanks in silence, went into the kiosk to pay, and then met up on the pavement next to the main road. A coach party had arrived at the Bell’s distillery and was being led into the visitors’ center. Rebus nodded towards the Saab. “In answer to your question, I’m more the classic-car type.”

The man exhaled a long stream of smoke. “Didn’t catch your line of work last time we met.”

“I’m an ex-cop.”

“So what do you do now?”

“At the moment, I’m still getting used to it.” Rebus flicked ash onto the ground. “You said you were in ‘solutions.’”

“Posh term for sales,” the man admitted.

“You’re working today?”

“Tomorrow as well, if anyone wants to see me. It’s tough out there, if you hadn’t noticed.”

“I’d noticed. What does your wife say?”

The man shrugged. “We’ll open a bottle of wine tonight, try to make the most of it.”

“Got kids?”

“One daughter.”

“Same as me, then.”

“Laurie’s in her first year at high school.”

“Mine fled the nest long back.” Rebus paused, studying the tip of his cigarette. “I don’t see her much…” They watched the flow of traffic in and out of town. “I think you told me you drive hundreds of miles a week.”

“Enough so I recognize faces and firms.” He nodded towards a lorry. “Flowers from Holland. He’ll drop off as far north as Aberdeen before heading back to the ferry.”