46

The first news crew arrived at breakfast time.

Rebus was out front, smoking a cigarette. Rain had arrived in heavy gusts, and he was sheltering next to the hotel’s entrance. The crew chatted among themselves as they sprinted past him. They didn’t have reservations, but were hopeful; an early check-in would be a bonus; quick shower and something to eat, then they could get on the road to Edderton. English accents; unshaven; bleary-eyed: Rebus got the idea they’d driven through the night to get there. He flicked away his cigarette and headed for the breakfast room. Page was busy on his phone, while Clarke started on the second pot of coffee.

‘Slight problem,’ Rebus told her, nodding towards the open doorway. Clarke had a clear view of the reception desk. One of the arrivals held a full-sized news camera at his side. Page saw it too, and told the person he was speaking to that he would call back.

‘If they’re staying, we’re not,’ he commented.

‘Agreed,’ Clarke said. Then: ‘Any news from Dempsey?’

Page nodded slowly. ‘First autopsy will start in an hour. Pathologist reckons it’ll take a couple of days to get through them. Meantime, forensics are busy at the locus.’

‘Weather won’t be helping,’ Rebus interrupted.

‘They’ve covered what they can with plastic sheeting,’ Page informed him.

‘I need to buy some wellies,’ Clarke said.

‘Me too.’ Rebus lifted one foot so she could see his rudimentary attempt at shoe-cleaning. ‘And trousers, while I’m at it.’ The reception desk had provided a needle and thread, but his repair wasn’t going to hold.

‘How about the tetanus?’

Rebus shrugged. ‘What are the symptoms?’

‘Headache, dry mouth. .’ She examined his sewing. ‘Lack of hand/eye coordination.’

Page was busy checking messages. ‘Are Christine and Ronnie on the road home?’ he asked.

‘Yes,’ Clarke confirmed.

‘Dempsey’s going to want the families brought to Inverness,’ Page said. ‘It’s a murder investigation now.’

‘That reminds me, we should buy Ruby a nice juicy bone,’ Rebus said.

All three of them watched as the news crew entered the dining room, grabbing a table before heading for the buffet. There was a swagger to them, as though they suddenly owned the place.

‘I think that’s our cue to make an exit,’ Page said, getting to his feet.

They decided not to check out — not until they knew there was somewhere else for them to go. There wasn’t much leg room in the back of Clarke’s Audi, but that was where Rebus ended up. On the way to Northern Constabulary HQ, Page decided to entertain them with a pep talk about protocol and how they were ‘representatives’ of Lothian and Borders Police so should ‘showcase’ their talents and not make ‘waves’ — or any foul-ups. Rebus got the feeling the speech was aimed squarely at him. He met Clarke’s eyes in the rear-view mirror, but she wasn’t giving anything away.

The building they were looking for was next to a roundabout and across the road from a twenty-four-hour Tesco. The police HQ was a modern three-storey construction of pink stone and smoked glass. There were journalists waiting on the roadway and pavement in front of it, setting up cameras or busy on their phones. A uniformed constable checked Page’s warrant card before nodding the Audi in the direction of a parking space. Rebus spotted a sign next to the entrance with the motto Protect and Serve on it, written in Gaelic as well as English. Bit late for the ‘protect’ part; all that was left was the ‘serve’. .

Once indoors, they learned that Detective Chief Superintendent Dempsey had already left for the first autopsy. It was being held at nearby Raigmore Hospital. Rebus couldn’t help thinking: same place as Sammy’s IVF. Page was asking for directions when a text arrived on his phone.

‘Dempsey,’ he explained to Clarke and Rebus. ‘Resident pathologist’s apparently annoyed by the number of bodies — live rather than dead — and wouldn’t welcome us adding to the total.’ He gnawed at his bottom lip. Rebus knew what he’d be thinking. They were here as guests of Northern Constabulary. It wasn’t really their case — not until Annette McKie was formally identified. Even then, common sense dictated that the McKie inquiry would be bundled with the others. With Edderton as the locus, it was Northern’s case, no contest. If Page complained or made a fuss, they could be sent packing at a moment’s notice. On the other hand, what use were they to anyone just hanging around, waiting to be told what had already happened in their absence?

‘We could head out to Edderton,’ Clarke suggested.

After a moment’s consideration, Page nodded his agreement.

So it was back on to the A9, the rain growing heavier as they crossed the Kessock Bridge, side winds buffeting the car. Clarke had set the wipers to their maximum speed, but they still struggled to cope.

‘Never did buy those wellies,’ Rebus commented from the back seat.

‘There’s an umbrella somewhere at your feet,’ he was told. He reached down and picked it up. It was pink and retractable, and looked to have a circumference no bigger than a drum cymbal.

‘It’s yours if you want it,’ Clarke said.

‘Thanks,’ Rebus replied without enthusiasm.

The uniform at the cordon was dressed for the elements. He even had a plastic shield for his clipboard. Their names were jotted down, along with the Audi’s registration number. A camera crew were sheltering in the back of their van, doors open so they could keep an eye on things. Raymond — Dempsey’s nephew — was seated in his own car, a white Volkswagen Polo. His window was down, and he offered a nod of greeting towards Rebus as the Audi crawled past the cordon and started to ascend the hill, rivulets of rainwater either side of it. The Portakabin had been unlocked and was providing shelter for those taking a break from the crime scene. SOCOs cupped their hands around beakers of instant soup, trying to get warm. Page decided to keep moving up the slope towards the locus. Clarke glanced back and saw that Rebus was happy where he was, but gesturing for her to stick with her boss.

There was just about room enough for Rebus inside the Portakabin. A couple of SOCOs were waiting for the kettle to boil, mugs at the ready. Bottles of water; empty Cup-a-Soup sachets. No sign of the evidence bags from the previous evening — the lab had probably taken them.

‘Not the best of days for it,’ Rebus said to no one in particular. ‘And no sign of the heater we were promised.’ Then: ‘Have all the bodies gone now?’

There were nods of confirmation.

‘Still just the five?’

‘Just?’

‘I’m thinking we should be thankful there aren’t more.’

‘They’ve brought the dog back for a final recce,’ one SOCO said.

‘Any effects in the graves?’ Rebus asked, trying to keep his tone conversational.

‘Sorry — who are you again?’

‘I’m with the Annette McKie team. I was here when Ruby found the first of them.’

This seemed to satisfy the room — just about. ‘No effects,’ he was told. ‘No clothing, no jewellery, nothing.’

‘And one body a good bit more recent than the others?’

There were more nods.

‘She should be easy enough to identify,’ someone conceded.

‘The others won’t be?’

‘Dental records maybe. Or a DNA match. Do you want some soup?’

The offer told Rebus that he had been accepted. ‘Thanks,’ he said, even though he was still full from breakfast.

‘Grabs them from the A9,’ another of the team was saying, ‘buries them here and sends a picture — got to be local.’

‘Might just be someone who knows the road,’ Rebus cautioned. ‘Any tyre tracks up there?’

‘Nothing useful as yet.’

‘Only three or so weeks since he was last here, though.’

‘Ground might have been frozen — dipped below zero the night the McKie girl went missing.’

Rebus nodded his understanding. ‘You’ll keep looking?’

‘Until we’re told to pack up.’

‘Clothing and personal effects might have been buried separately.’

‘We’ve a metal detector coming later today, plus the offer of geo-phys if we want it.’ The man’s eyes were on Rebus, daring him to doubt the effort being made. Rebus blew across the surface of the soup instead. Reconstituted peas and carrots had never held such fascination for him.

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