‘No. If she fails to report in to Elspeth’s captor, they might panic and kill the hostage. Unit one, follow the tracker. Unit two, follow the female at a safe distance. The money’s irrelevant. We just need to know where they’re holding Elspeth.’

‘What happens now?’ Connie asked Baarda.

He stretched his neck. ‘You tell me. Are these the actions of criminals likely to make good on their word and release the victim, or not?’

‘They’re well organised, skilled, and there are several people involved. They’re less likely to respond emotionally to external stresses because they’ve thought consequentially and will have planned for all possible outcomes. One of those will be the need to kill the hostage. Deciding a course of action might be necessary isn’t the same thing as being able to take a life though, unless they’ve done that before. Many murderers only find killing traumatic the first time they do it.’

‘That’s rather clinical.’ Baarda regarded her solemnly.

‘Sorry, did you want me to reassure you that it’s all going to be okay?’

‘I may not have known you very long, but bland reassurance isn’t the first thing that comes to mind when I think of you.’

‘DI Baarda?’ a voice crackled down the line. ‘You’re wanted at the city mortuary.’

Edinburgh’s mortuary wasn’t far from Waverley station as the crow flew, but by car during rush hour, the journey seemed to take forever. Inside the mortuary, an assistant walked them through to a postmortem suite.

A woman with the build of a sparrow and the energy of a tornado was storming around the room, clicking files on a computer screen, holding a microscope slide on one hand and talking either to herself or to the corpse lying beneath a sheet on a gurney.

‘Ah, you’re here. Now I know you were busy, but there’s something you should be aware of. You’ll need to suit up before you step any closer.’

Baarda and Connie reached for the necessary overalls.

‘My name’s Ailsa Lambert, I’m the chief forensic examiner.’ She bustled across to pick up a set of photos and open them, holding up the relevant shot. ‘This drop of blood from your missing person’s vehicle flagged as a match on our system. In the circumstances, I decided you should come straight in.’

‘Where was she found?’ Baarda asked.

‘At home, in her bed.’

‘That can’t be right. We have officers there now waiting for confirmation as to whether or not Mrs Dunwoody has been found.’

‘Oh, this isn’t Mrs Dunwoody. Apologies. I thought you’d have been told. This poor young woman is Angela Fernycroft.’ She peeled back the sheet to reveal a darkly dappled face, its humanity long since disintegrated.