She decided to put him right, knowing that the truth might annoy him just as much. ‘I’m staying at Jamie’s again.’

She watched as McNab considered the implications of that, before he came fighting back.

‘I spoke to Sean last night,’ he said, a penetrating look on his face. ‘He said you hadn’t been in touch with him. At all,’ he added for emphasis.

She hadn’t and felt bad about it, but that didn’t mean it was any of McNab’s damn business.

Whatever fun she’d had ribbing McNab was now over.

‘I’d like you to attend the PM,’ Rhona said. ‘There’s an earlier wound on the back of the head. Find out if it’s got traces of birch tree in it. It might just be the injured party from the woods. His face is unrecognizable, pulp mostly, and his body’s pretty mangled too,’ she added, ‘so it won’t be pretty.’

This was her revenge for the Sean jibe. McNab wasn’t squeamish in the field but he had no love of the mortuary and the sound of electric drills and saws.

He forced a smile. ‘No problem, Dr MacLeod. I’ll report back on that.’

‘Also, the rocks he hit are basalt, but there might be an earlier wound in the face that the fall obliterated. Have the pathologist check for metal residue.’

‘From what?’ McNab sounded interested now.

‘A knife, an axe.’

‘Fuck’s sake. It’s the Wild West out there. Puts Glasgow to shame.’

‘Also, he’d been handling cocaine, and with no ID on him, and the big haul they took here recently . . .’

‘You and Sergeant MacDonald wondered if there might be a Sandman connection?’

‘You can read my mind,’ Rhona said briskly.

‘And that, Dr MacLeod, is not always pleasant.’

Rhona ignored the snide remark.

‘One other thing: there were some soldiers, medics, from Glasgow at the Isles hotel for a night. They’ve gone off-grid, camping supposedly. The card they booked under was Pete Galbraith.’ She spelled out the email address Alvis handed her. ‘Could Ollie check him out?’

‘Glad to be of service, Dr MacLeod,’ McNab said, somewhat sarcastically.

The boing sounded as Rhona broke the connection first. ‘Prick,’ she said under her breath.

Alvis, standing by the window, turned and waited silently without comment.

‘Detective Sergeant McNab and I go back a long way, but he still gets on my tits sometimes,’ Rhona said, exasperated.

Alvis laughed. A deep, infectious sound. Rhona found her anger dissipating as she joined in.

Alvis produced a whisky bottle from the cupboard and waved it at her.

‘Shall we discuss these medics and take a look at the map?’

‘One thing before we do,’ she said, accepting the drink he’d poured for her. ‘I retrieved Sitka spruce needles both from the victim’s clothing and the area Blaze identified on the clifftop.’

‘There’s no Sitka spruce cover near Kilt Rock?’