So McNab and Campbell were allies on this, which boded well, Rhona thought.

‘Has there been any more news from DI Flett?’ she said.

‘He wanted to know when we’ve finished with the ship, then they’ll arrange for it to be taken south for scrap.’

‘When would that happen normally?’ Rhona said.

‘Not immediately,’ Campbell assured her. ‘You think you’ll need to get back on board?’

There was always the chance a forensic team might want to go back for another look. She said so.

‘Then I’ll tell DI Flett to wait to hear from you, before any arrangements are made.’

McNab had been hanging on, obviously wanting to speak to her. Once Campbell had closed the door, he said, ‘Can we get a coffee before you go back in?’

‘Sissons won’t be starting on the other two for a while yet.’

They walked through the hospital to the nearest cafe, attracting curious glances on the way. Even in a place full of sick or injured folk, it seemed McNab’s face was still a draw.

‘So what happened with Ellie?’ Rhona said as they settled at a table.

‘I followed your instructions,’ he said. ‘She let me in. We talked. She’ll think about it.’

Rhona knew by the guarded look that wasn’t all that had happened. ‘And?’

He shook his head. ‘The skinhead was in there. He gave me the finger from the window.’

‘Before or after you were inside?’

‘What does it matter, she’s still seeing him?’ He shrugged. ‘How about you?’

‘Sean and I talked.’

They’d done more than just talk in the back office, but she wasn’t going to tell McNab that.

His blue eyes fastened on her and he smiled. ‘Good for you, Dr MacLeod. At least one of us had fun last night.’ He finished his coffee. ‘Another?’

‘I’m fine, thanks.’

She watched as his tall figure headed to the counter. Whatever he said to the barista made the girl laugh. Rhona wondered how many tales he’d told to explain his battered face and if even she’d been told the truth.

The pretty barista didn’t want him to leave, delaying him with responses to his banter. The queue that had built up behind had also joined in. Eventually McNab sauntered back, a smile on his face.

‘So some people don’t want to punch your lights out?’ Rhona said.

‘Just the ones who don’t know me,’ he quipped in return. ‘Let’s talk Ava Clouston.’

McNab’s reaction to Ava and her involvement had changed when the name Einar Petersson had been dropped late in the conversation the previous night. There was a good reason for that. Petersson, apparently a colleague of Ava’s, had played a vital role in McNab’s survival during the Kalinin case. ‘No thanks to DI Cleverly,’ he’d told her.