seventeen. They exchanged handshakes and pats on the arm. Arnold saw Rebus and waved him towards the bar.
‘What are you having?’
‘An IPA would do the trick.’
‘Two please, Sue,’ Arnold said. Sue Holloway smiled a greeting at Rebus and got to work.
As they watched her pour, Rebus asked Arnold how things were going.
‘I’m on doorstepping duties,’ he replied. ‘Reckon the shocks have gone on my car already, the number of farm tracks I’ve been up and down.’
‘With no result to show for it?’
‘Which DCS Dempsey insists is a result in itself. Narrowing things down, she calls it.’
‘In a way, she’s right.’
‘It just makes for a bloody tedious day, that’s all.’
‘Stop moaning,’ Holloway said. ‘And these are on the house as a way of saying thanks.’
‘For what?’ Rebus asked.
‘Trying to find the twisted bastard and stop him doing it again.’
‘Cheers then,’ Arnold said, clinking his glass against Rebus’s before taking a sip. ‘How about you, John? Any progress?’
‘I seem to be surplus to requirements, Gavin. Spent half the day sightseeing.’
‘Culloden?’ Arnold guessed.
‘Black Isle, actually.’
‘If they widen the search any further, I’ll end up there before long. What did you think of the place?’
‘I saw some dolphins.’
‘Did you go to Culbokie?’ Arnold watched Rebus shake his head. ‘Nice wee pub there with a beer garden looking over the Cromarty Firth.’
Rebus remembered how he knew the name — Culbokie was where Brigid Young had left her mobile phone the day she’d been abducted.
‘Hey, Gav,’ one of the other darts players called. ‘You seeing this?’
The man meant the TV set above the door. It was tuned to a news channel. On the screen some people were settling themselves around a table. Looked like another bar, this time with menus and napkins. Flashbulbs were going off, and at one point the news camera was jostled.
Rebus recognised Frank Hammell and Nina Hazlitt. They were shaking hands, as if they’d just been introduced to one another. Another couple were there too, not looking comfortable at the amount of attention and the proximity of the cameras.
‘That’s Brigid Young’s sister and her man,’ Arnold explained. Across the bottom of the screen ran the words A9 FAMILIES MEET.
‘Isn’t that the Claymore?’ Sue Holloway said.
‘Looks like,’ Arnold admitted. Then, for Rebus’s benefit: ‘It’s right across the road from here.’
Someone had gone to the door to check. Rebus, Arnold and half a dozen others decided to follow suit. Sure enough: an outside broadcast van with a satellite dish on its roof. And lots of lights moving around inside the Claymore Bar. Rebus crossed the street and peered through the window. He saw the table and the four figures seated at it. A man emerged from the back of the van and started setting up a tripod with a lamp at the top of it. He ran a cable back to the van and plugged it in, further illuminating the interior. Hammell glanced towards the window, his narrowed eyes meeting Rebus’s. Then he turned back towards the microphones and continued with his speech. Rebus could see no sign of Darryl Christie. Nina Hazlitt was handed a drink from a tray. Brigid Young’s sister had her hand clamped around that of the man next to her. As other gawpers closed in around him, Rebus retreated to the Lochinver. Arnold was stationed in front of the TV, watching proceedings. Someone had turned the volume up.
‘Impromptu press conference,’ he stated. ‘Dempsey won’t be happy.’
‘What have they been saying?’ Rebus asked.
‘Mr Hammell’s complaining about a lack of effort; Ms Hazlitt wants to be swabbed for DNA.’
‘And the other two?’
‘Seem not to know what they’ve gotten into. You ready for a top-up?’
‘My shout,’ Rebus said, lifting Arnold’s empty glass from him and making for the bar. When his phone buzzed, he reckoned he knew who it would be, but he turned towards the TV screen to check. Nina Hazlitt was talking. Frank Hammell could be seen next to her, studying the screen of his own phone. Rebus checked the message:
He texted back, then paid for the drinks. It was a further half-hour before Hammell walked in. The only surprise was that he had brought Nina Hazlitt with him.
‘This is Nina,’ Hammell said.
‘John knows me,’ Hazlitt said. ‘Though you might not know it from the way he’s been behaving.’
This seemed to come as news to Hammell, who had a twenty-pound note in his hand, ready to attract Holloway’s attention. Rebus looked around the bar. Everyone seemed to have recognised the visitors, while pretending to mind their own business. Arnold was halfway through another game of darts, his glance towards Rebus managing to pose both question and warning.
‘Same again?’ Hammell was asking Hazlitt.
‘Why not?’ she said.
‘What about you, Rebus?’
‘I’m fine as I am.’ Rebus’s eyes were on Hazlitt’s. ‘So how are you doing?’
‘I’ll be better when I get some news.’
‘Tomorrow or the day after, that’s what I’m hearing.’
‘Then you know no more than we do,’ she stated.
When Hammell handed her a glass, Rebus asked him where Darryl Christie was.
‘Back in Edinburgh. Needs to be there for his mum.’
‘Shouldn’t that be your job too?’
Hammell glared at him. ‘What about you? Boozing it up when there’s a freak out there you should be catching.’
‘I’m sure John’s doing all he can,’ Hazlitt broke in. ‘Might explain why he’s too busy to reply to messages. .’
‘I saw Thomas Robertson,’ Rebus told Hammell. The man had ordered both a whisky and a pint, sinking an inch of the latter before adding the former to the mix.
‘Remind me,’ he said.
‘The road worker from Pitlochry,’ Rebus obliged.
‘And why bother telling me?’
‘He’d gone ten rounds with a battering ram.’
Hammell shrugged and took out his phone, checking its screen. Rebus turned his attention back to Nina Hazlitt. ‘What was all that in aid of, across the road?’
‘Media awareness,’ she answered.
‘Your idea or his?’ Rebus nodded towards Hammell.
‘Does it matter?’
It was Rebus’s turn to shrug. Arnold was gesturing from the dartboard, where he had just finished his game. Rebus walked over to him.
‘Hell are you doing?’ Arnold hissed.
‘I can’t help it if those two decide to wander in.’
‘So it’s just coincidence?’ Arnold didn’t sound convinced. ‘You sure all the TV people have packed up? If this ever gets back to Dempsey. .’
‘I won’t tell if you don’t.’ Rebus gave a wink and returned to the bar. Hammell asked him if he was finally ready for that drink. Rebus shook his head.
‘Better be off. Another early start in the morning.’
‘One more won’t hurt,’ Nina Hazlitt pressed, a certain amount of pleading in her eyes. Rebus couldn’t tell if
