Neil threw Chrissy a sympathetic look as though he already knew the background to Rhona’s presence on the island, which wasn’t surprising. If Scotland was a village, Police Scotland was a big family, and not always a happy one.

‘Where will you put me down?’ Chrissy said.

‘As near as possible to the lookout point on the clifftop. By the time we get there, the mist should have lifted.’

Looking down on a beautiful clear view of the snow-covered western Highlands, it was difficult to imagine a mist-bound Skye.

‘How do I get onto the foreshore?’ Chrissy said.

‘That’s for the MRT guys to decide,’ Neil said with a mischievous grin.

Chrissy chose not to imagine how that might be exactly. She’d googled Kilt Rock after McNab’s morning phone call, but a quick glance at the scary black cliffs was all she’d managed before getting ready for her helicopter ride to Skye.

She’d been feeding wee Michael at the time. Seeing McNab’s name on the screen had sent her into a paroxysm of worry after last night’s conversation about Rhona. In fact she’d already discussed with her mum whether she would keep wee Michael and let Chrissy drive to Skye on the coming weekend.

‘This is your chance to see how Rhona really is,’ McNab had told Chrissy. Hearing her hesitation, he’d laid it on even thicker. ‘Rhona’s likely to be with the body for most of the day. She would welcome some help, according to Sergeant MacDonald at Portree.’

‘Does Rhona know DI Wilson’s sending me out there?’ Chrissy had asked.

‘It’ll be like Orkney all over again,’ he’d urged, not answering her question.

‘I was thinking of driving over this weekend,’ Chrissy had admitted at that point.

‘Perfect,’ McNab had declared, before swiftly ending the call in case she should change her mind.

‘We’re almost there.’ Neil broke into Chrissy’s thoughts. ‘There’s the bridge ahead.’

Chrissy had never been to Skye. Sanday had been the first Scottish island she’d visited. Back then she’d taken a vow to visit more of them. Like many city dwellers, previously she’d thought more of seeking the sun when she had time off, rather than heading north or west.

Above the landmass now, Neil pointed out various places as they passed over.

‘The long island on the right is Raasay,’ he told her. ‘The flat-topped mountain in the middle is Dun Caan. And ahead is Portree.’

Portree, she saw, was clustered round a bay with a pretty little harbour. If this was a population centre, it wasn’t very big.

‘There’s a police station in the main square with the sheriff court alongside. Sergeant MacDonald, who you’ll meet soon, is based there. We’re heading a bit further north to Ellishadder. That’s where the lookout point for Kilt Rock is.’