Rebus opened the door for her. She took one look at the interior and declared it “charming.” There was a table by the window, recently vacated. Rebus took the empties to the bar and ordered IPA for himself and a vodka tonic for her. The place was just noisy enough—no chance of anyone eavesdropping on their conversation. Back at the table, they chinked glasses.

“So, how are things?” she asked.

“Things are interesting. I’ve got a foot in the door with the Annette McKie inquiry.”

“They accept there’s a connection?”

“They accept the possibility.”

“Well, that’s progress.” She seemed immediately more energized, pulling her shoulders back, eyes gleaming.

“There’s no proof yet. And to be honest, the McKie case is throwing up other possibilities. The photos are the real link.”

“Photos?”

He realized she didn’t yet know. “Annette McKie’s phone was used to send a photograph of a landscape at dusk. Same thing happened with Zoe Beddows.”

She took a moment to digest the information. “That can’t be coincidence. What about Brigid Young?”

“The technology wasn’t around back then.”

“Sally had her phone with her in Aviemore.”

“Yes, I remember you saying.”

“I don’t think it could take pictures though…” She thought for a moment. “Some of the people she knew at school keep a page for her on Friends Reunited.”

“That’s kind of them.”

“It has photos of her—school trips, parties, concerts…”

“Any way to know who visits it?”

“I don’t think so.”

“Might be worth finding out.”

She stared at him, eyes narrowing. “Why?” But before he could answer, she had worked it out. “You think someone took her? One person stalking all these girls and then sending out photos? And he might have gone online posing as a friend…?” Her voice was rising, and Rebus gestured for her to bring it down a little. She took a couple of sips of her drink, trying to compose herself.

“I’ll ask,” she said, voice trembling. “I’ll ask Sally’s friends.”

Rebus thanked her and decided to try for a change of tack, asking what brought her back to Edinburgh.

“You, of course,” she eventually answered.

“Me?”

“You’re the first person in such a long while who’s taken me seriously. And when you phoned the other night…”

“You decided to drop everything?”

“I’m self-employed. Wherever I lay my laptop, that’s my office.”

“What do you do?”

“Publishing, sort of. I edit people’s books, do proofreading, sometimes research.”

“Sounds interesting.”

She managed a laugh. “You’re not a very convincing liar—but it can be interesting. Last book I did was an encyclopedia of myth and legend. It covered the whole of the British Isles—quite a lot from Scotland.”

“Oh aye?”

“Did you know there’s a dragon buried beneath the Royal Mile?” She did a quick calculation. “We might be perched on one of its wings.”