“Could do with a bit of TLC,” Clarke commented.

“Either that or knocking down.”

“New schools for all, once we get independence.”

Rebus looked at her. “What’s with the ‘we’? Are you forgetting that’s an English accent you’ve got?”

“Reckon I’m for deportation?”

“We might just keep you at a pinch.” Rebus pulled back his shoulders as a teenager in school uniform entered the corridor, hesitated, then walked towards them. His hair flopped into his eyes, and he wore his striped tie with an oversized knot.

“Are you Thomas?” Rebus asked.

“Thomas Redfern?” Clarke added.

“Aye.” Redfern didn’t seem to have any gum in his mouth, but he sounded as though he did.

“You’re in Annette’s class?”

Redfern nodded.

“You all right talking here?”

The boy shrugged and stuffed his hands deep into his trouser pockets.

“I’ve already told the polis—”

“We know that,” Clarke interrupted. “We just need to clear a few things up.”

“Have you still got that photo?” Rebus asked. “The one Zelda sent?”

“Aye.”

“Mind if I see it?” Rebus held out his hand. Redfern produced a phone from the top pocket of his blazer and switched it on.

“Sorry we had to pull you out of class,” Clarke said.

The boy gave a snort. “Double chemistry.”

“You can always walk the long way back.”

He had found the photograph. He turned the phone around so they could see its screen. Rebus lifted it from between his fingers. He didn’t think it was blurred enough to have been taken from a moving vehicle, or even from behind glass. He got a sense that the photographer had been standing up, and was probably around his height.

“How tall is Zelda?” he asked.

“Bit shorter than me.” Redfern was indicating his own shoulder.

“Around five six?” Rebus nodded to himself.

“She could be standing on a rock or something,” Clarke suggested.

“No message with it?” Rebus asked the boy.

“No.”

“Did she often send you stuff?”

“A text now and then—if there was a party maybe.”

“Did you know she was going to Inverness?”

“She told everyone.”

“Nobody else from the school was invited?”

“Timmy was, but her parents wouldn’t let her go.”

“The girls knew about the party from the internet?”

“Some guy they talked to on Twitter,” Redfern confirmed. “Year older but still at school. We all told her…”

“Told her what?” Clarke asked.

“To be careful. People online, you know…”

“Not always what they seem?” Clarke nodded her understanding. “Well, we’ve checked, and he’s a sixteen-year-old called Robert Gilzean.”

“Aye, the other polis told me.”

While Clarke kept Redfern talking, Rebus flicked through some of the other photos on the phone. Kids making faces, kids making hand gestures, kids blowing kisses. None showed Annette McKie.

“How well do you know Zelda, Tom?”

He gave another shrug.

“Were you at primary school together?”

“No.”

“So you’ve been in the same class for…what…three years?”

“I suppose so.”

“Ever been to her house?”

“Couple of parties. She seemed to spend most of the time in her bedroom.”