“There was another in 2002, up near Strathpeffer,” Rebus said.

“Sounds like you’ve been talking to that woman—the Aviemore one.”

“Nina Hazlitt?”

“Daughter went missing on Hogmanay.”

“You know her?”

“I know she used to haunt Central HQ in Stirling, after Zoe disappeared.”

“This isn’t just about her, though,” Rebus felt it necessary to state. “There’s Annette McKie now.”

“Known by the nickname Zelda—I read two papers a day. Gets me out of the house as far as the newsagent’s. I’d drive the wife daft otherwise.”

“I didn’t ask where you live, Mr. Lochrin…?”

“Tillicoultry—world famous for our soft furnishings warehouse.”

Rebus smiled. “I think I’ve been there, actually.”

“You and half of Scotland. So you’re trying to find a link between this new girl and Zoe Beddows? Plus maybe Strathpeffer and Aviemore?”

“Something like that.”

“And you want to ask me about the photo?”

Rebus was silent for a moment. “What photo?”

“The one Zoe sent her friend. Didn’t I just mention it? Probably a coincidence, but I suppose you have to check…”

“It was in Zoe Beddows’s file,” Rebus explained to Siobhan Clarke. He ran his hand through his hair distractedly. “I should have spotted it, but it was buried in an interview transcript. Just the single mention. Not even one of her closest friends. And no message with it. Just the picture, sent the day she went missing…”

He was standing with Clarke in the corridor outside the CID suite in Gayfield Square police station. Clarke’s arms had been folded as she listened, but now she held up a hand to interrupt him.

“You’ve got the files? All the files?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve cleared this with DS Cowan?” She rolled her eyes at the stupidity of her own question. “What am I saying? Of course you haven’t—you’re keeping it to yourself.”

“You know me too well.”

Clarke thought for a moment. “Can I see the photo?”

“I need to speak to the recipient.” Rebus paused. “Well, it doesn’t have to be me, of course…”

“You think I’m going to do it for you?”

“Annette McKie sent a photograph from her phone the day she vanished. Back in 2008 Zoe Beddows did the selfsame thing from the selfsame road. You’re telling me we should ignore that?”

“What about the others—Strathpeffer and Aviemore?”

“Brigid Young didn’t have her phone with her. Besides, could you send photos from a phone back then…?”

A man appeared in the nearest doorway. Tall, slim, good suit.

“There you are,” he said.

Clarke managed a half-smile. “Here I am,” she agreed. The man was staring at Rebus, awaiting an introduction.

“John Rebus,” Rebus obliged, holding out a hand. The two men shook. “I’m with SCRU.”

“This is DCI Page,” Clarke told him.

“James Page,” Page clarified.

“You’ve changed a bit,” Rebus said. Page looked at him blankly. “Led Zeppelin,” Rebus explained. “Guitarist.”

“Oh, right. Same name as me.” Page at last attempted a smile, before turning his attention to Clarke. “Meeting of the control team in five.”