The two men shook hands and returned to their vehicles. Rebus watched as the salesman drove off with a wave from his open window. He was heading north. Six- and seven-day weeks spent in a world that for him was permanent, for others fleeting, a place of lay-by sandwiches and pit stops for fuel, getting to know each road intimately, memorizing short cuts, computing routes around snarl-ups, bumping into others whose routine was similar to his own, trading tips with them about the best fast food, the cheapest petrol, the cleanest facilities. Rebus had always thought of roads as simple, mute entities, but he knew differently now—they had individual identities and foibles. They pulsed with life. He stayed on the forecourt and pulled out his phone, punching in Samantha’s number.

“It’s me,” he said when she answered.

“Hey, Dad.”

“You okay to talk?”

“Nothing planned except a lazy weekend.”

“Lucky you. I just thought I’d call and see how you’re doing.” He leaned back against the headrest, holding the phone close to his ear, content just to listen to her voice.

“Is everything all right?” she asked. “It’s just…”

“What?”

“Not like you to pick up the phone.”

“That doesn’t mean I’m not thinking of you, Samantha. I think about you a lot.”

“I’m doing okay.”

“I know you are.”

“How about you? Any closer to catching that madman?”

“People keep asking me that.” He was remembering his words to the salesman: there’s always a destination, and you know you’re going to reach it one way or another…

“What do you tell them?”

“You really think he’s a madman?”

“Has to be.”

“Sometimes it’s hard to tell.”

“Gives me the creeps to think of him still out there. I’ve an appointment in Inverness in a few days with the IVF team. I’ve told Keith I’m not going without him.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Easy for you to say.”

“I suppose it is. Will you let me know how it goes at Raigmore?”

“Of course.”

“And maybe you and Keith should think about a weekend in Edinburgh. I could find you a hotel—my treat.”

“Are you sure you’re feeling all right?”

“Enough of your cheek, young lady.”

He heard her laughter ringing in his ears.

66

66

That evening, he met Cafferty at the Tannery.

“Thanks for coming,” he said, buying the drinks before heading for a table.

“Is this where you offer an apology?” Cafferty asked.

“What sort of apology?”

“Last time we were in here, you were less than gracious.”

“I suppose that’s one way of putting it.”

“So?”

“You’re not going to tell me I hurt your feelings?”

Cafferty managed the thinnest of smiles. “Maybe not,” he conceded. “So why did you bring me here?”