‘A particularly skilled scumbag called Finlay Wilson was involved in human trafficking until recently. He brought in hundreds of women over a few years, mostly from Eastern Europe. Fortunately, he was dispatched in suitably violent form last year. Ended up losing his head, I recall. The young woman was one of Wilson’s victims, pregnant when she was trafficked. He let his clients indulge their fantasies, then sold her along with her baby.’

‘Harris bought her?’ Baarda asked.

‘It appears so,’ Overbeck confirmed. ‘One of the many reasons why I’m not as concerned as I might otherwise have been about the circumstances of his death.’ She glanced at Connie, who raised her eyebrows.

‘And the other bones?’ Baarda asked.

‘We’re checking missing persons records. Runaways, the homeless, prostitutes, not just from Edinburgh but across Scotland. It may also be that others were provided from trafficking. We’ve had two confirmed DNA matches. The first is a girl called Emily, a ten-year-old, believed to have drowned in a loch two years ago. Her shoes and a hairband were found floating in the water. We now believe that Fergus abducted her from the campsite. In addition, five years ago, a young woman was abducted from—’

‘Advocate’s Close,’ Connie said quietly.

‘Indeed,’ Overbeck confirmed.

‘He was still refining his methods at that point,’ Connie said.

‘God knows how many more he might have killed had he not been stopped,’ Overbeck said. ‘And there I was thinking that engaging a forensic profiler was a waste of money.’ She crossed her arms. ‘I should get back to work. You two have a lovely restful afternoon. I take it, Dr Woolwine, that you’ll stay out of my way until everyone in the United Kingdom has forgotten the name Harris Povey?’

‘Sounds like an order,’ Connie said.

‘Sodding right it’s an order,’ Overbeck said. ‘Lovely chatting with you.’

She exited, and the warmth returned to the hospital room.

‘I told you she likes me,’ Connie grinned.

‘I think there’s a lot you haven’t explained to me yet.’

‘Nothing important. I probably just didn’t explain what happened very coherently in my final report.’

‘You killed him,’ Baarda said. ‘With your belt? Overbeck was right. That can’t have been easy.’

‘Self-defence,’ Connie said. ‘Easier than you think when it was his life or mine. There was limited oxygen in the coffin, and I didn’t know how soon I’d be found. I want that belt back when the case is over. You’d better remember to send it to me. I’ve had it a long time.’

‘Stop kidding around.’

‘Oh, I’m not, that belt was handmade in Italy.’

‘Connie, what you went through …’

‘Let’s not,’ Connie said. ‘I survived. You survived. It could have been much worse.’

Baarda lay unmoving, silent, watching her. Connie broke eye contact first.

‘I wish you weren’t going back to America,’ he said.