Glasgow was overcast as they came in to land, much like Rhona’s mood. Even the co-pilot hadn’t been as chatty as usual, Chrissy’s name not mentioned once on the flight back.

A thick drizzle accompanied her through the city centre, so that she might have been back in Kirkwall in the haar. Entering Kelvingrove Park via Kelvin Way, the cloud cover broke for an instant, the light catching the spires of the university and lifting her spirits.

Her hope now was that Chrissy would have food available, since she hadn’t been able to eat any of Magnus’s carefully prepared breakfast. Arriving at the lab, she wondered why she had ever doubted that to be the case.

‘Great, you’re back.’ Chrissy gave her a hug. ‘Food first. I’ll log the evidence while you eat, then we’ll talk. Oh, and Bill’s called a strategy meeting for two o’clock and wants you there.’

As soon as Rhona indicated she was suitably replete, Chrissy said, with a serious air, ‘The print you managed to lift from the burn victim doesn’t match the one I retrieved from the credit card.’

Rhona nodded. ‘Well done.’ Yet another indicator that the victim was unlikely to be Olivia Newton Richardson, and a reminder of why the now-missing McNab had gone to London.

She had known without asking Chrissy that there had been no further news of him, and that her forensic assistant was aware of the death of Ava’s journalistic partner.

‘How is Ava taking the news about Mark?’ Chrissy said.

‘Badly, according to Erling, although I haven’t spoken to her in person yet,’ Rhona said.

Chrissy, obviously judging it was probably better to stick with talking about work, said, ‘So tell me about this possible stowaway. And the beach body.’

They spent the next hour poring over her photographs of both loci, Rhona constantly reminding herself to talk about the hideaway minus Nadia’s name, in the full knowledge that Chrissy had an almost uncanny ability to spot both a lie in practice and one by omission.

Eventually Chrissy said, ‘You believe whoever was in that room is still alive, don’t you?’

‘I’m hoping that’s true,’ Rhona countered.

Chrissy gave her a look, but didn’t comment on her response. Instead, she focused on one of the images of the hideaway. ‘See here,’ she said, pointing to the blanket covering the makeshift bed. ‘Those look like white animal hairs. I take it you brought some back for analysis?’

Rhona nodded.

‘I suppose they might have come from one of the Viking outfits, although I think any fur on those was fake. These look real. Never mind, I’ll know what they belong to when I take a look under the microscope.’