They scooped up Lamb from the big house and entered the gloom of the forest. Trees were planted so densely together that he needed the lights on full beam to follow the path. The air temperature had dropped by several degrees, the sun’s heat unable to penetrate the thick pine foliage. They came to the first fork in the track. Lamb pointed out tyre impressions still evident in the soft earth, so they continued for a mile on a potholed track, the Land Rover pitching and yawing like a drunk at sea. Before long, the track headed up the steeper side of the glen, the trees starting to thin out and let some welcome light back. Another split in the path appeared, and once again Lamb climbed out to check for signs of recent passage.

“It’s no good, sir. The ground’s too hard and stony to take any imprint. He could have gone either way.”

“You take the left, Lamb, and we’ll continue on this track. If you find anything, see any recent tracks, call us on the short-wave. Here,” he threw a roll of police tape out of the window. “You’ve heard of Hansel and Gretel, I take it?”

“Sir?”

“Just mark which way you’ve gone with strips of tape on trees, rocks, whatever. So we can find you if we have to.” Frankie instructed him impatiently.

They sped on along the higher road, able to make better time since visibility had improved considerably. A crossroads appeared and Corstorphine stopped the car so they could both check the paths ahead.

“This one turns to mud just down here,” Corstorphine advised, “and there’s no sign of any tracks.”

Frankie walked back from the track she’d investigated. “He could have gone this way, sir. It’s too dry to hold any tracks for long.”

“You take that track, Frankie, and I’ll cover as much ground as I can this way.” He handed over a roll of police tape, wished her good luck and headed further off into the mountains. The estate covered hundreds of square miles, Corstorphine thought. They could spend days looking for him up here. At least the weather was in their favour. The hills would usually be covered in mist at this time of year with visibility next to zero. He motored on, jumping out at each fork and looking in vain for any sign that a vehicle had been before him. After a few more hours Corstorphine accepted defeat. If the laird had travelled along this road he’d left no sign of his passing and it would be getting dark soon. The last thing he wanted was to call out the mountain rescue to find Lamb and Frankie. He’d never be allowed to live that down.