They drove in silence after that, Rebus getting used to the rental car’s foibles and controls, Samantha finding a radio station whose signal didn’t fade for the first part of the journey. When all that was left was static, she slotted home the CD, studying the track list. ‘Who did this?’
‘Old colleague of mine called Siobhan.’
‘She has catholic tastes – Mogwai and Orange Juice?’ She thought for a moment. ‘Keith was a big Mogwai fan.’
‘He liked his music? I didn’t see much evidence in the house.’
‘No one needs albums these days, Dad.’
‘I do.’
‘We actually met at a gig in Glasgow, Keith and me. Well, the bar afterwards. Clicked straight off.’
‘Was he always a history buff?’
Samantha nodded. ‘For a while it was the Clearances. There were homes torched around Strathnaver, clearing the land for sheep rearing. The factor was tried for murder but let off.’
‘Landowners are a bit more benign these days. You ever met Lord Strathy?’
‘Just his ex-wife.’
‘You and her get on okay?’ Samantha gave a one-shouldered shrug. ‘Night Keith died, Ron Travis heard a motorbike.’
‘The guy who owns that backpacker place? Is that why you were asking me about being on the bike with Jess?’
‘I’m just saying what Travis heard … ’
‘Really? That’s what you’re doing?’ She shook her head and turned up the music, folding her arms to signal that she wasn’t in the mood for any more talk. Eventually, north of Lairg and with no traffic on the road to speak of, she announced that she needed a pee. Rebus pulled over and she opened the door. He busied himself with his signal-less phone until she returned.
‘Thanks,’ she said. He nodded and made to start off, but she gripped his left arm, causing him to turn and make eye contact.
‘I know you think I did it. It won’t stop you trying to cover up for me or put someone else in the frame, but I know that’s what you think.’
‘Samantha … ’
She thumped her closed fist hard against her chest. ‘It’s like you fired a bullet at me and it hit me right here.’
‘Speaking of guns, there’s an old revolver missing from The Glen … ’ He was about to say more, but she was already flinging open the door.
‘Enough!’ she yelled, beginning to stride down the road ahead of the car. Rebus started the engine and followed her. He knew how thrawn, how determined she could be. He lowered the passenger-side window and drew level with her. For a moment, he thought she might leave the roadway altogether and start tramping through the bracken.
‘You need to get home to Carrie,’ he said. ‘Know how long that’ll take on foot?’
‘I’ll hitch.’
‘Just get in. We don’t have to talk. You don’t have to look at me. I’ll just drive.’ He pulled ahead of her and applied the brakes, watching in the wing mirror as she approached. She passed the car and went another twenty yards or so, but then came to a halt. Rebus stayed where he was, waiting. Eventually her shoulders slumped a little and she turned on her heel, getting back in and fussing with the seat belt.
‘I loved him,’ she said, as much to herself as to her father.
‘I know that,’ he replied quietly, easing his foot down on the accelerator.
‘And I didn’t do it.’
Rebus nodded but said nothing. Did he believe her? He wanted to. He needed to. He’d switched off the CD, so the only noise was the car engine. Samantha lowered her window and let the breeze have its way with her hair. Eventually Rebus found some words.
‘I know I wasn’t a great dad. Not much of a husband either. Sometimes I tell myself I did my best, but I know that’s not true.’
‘You were okay,’ Samantha muttered. ‘Remember the mirror in my room, when I was wee?’
‘The one on the dresser – how can I forget? I had to come in every night and drape a towel over it.’
‘Because I was convinced it led somewhere dark and scary.’
Rebus smiled at the memory. ‘I wonder why I didn’t just take it away.’
Samantha’s eyes met his. ‘Because I needed it to look into when it was light outside.’
He nodded slowly, his gaze returning to the road ahead.
‘You were okay,’ he heard her say. Then she reached forward to turn the CD back on.
Average White Band: ‘Pick Up the Pieces’.
He hoped that was what they were doing.
25
Siobhan Clarke’s call was eventually answered.
‘I’ve got just about enough signal for a bollocking,’ she heard Rebus say by way of introduction.
‘Good, because I’m primed to give you one.’
‘It’s online already?’
‘Which is why I’ve had Laura Smith on the phone, screaming about how come she’s not the one we gave it to.’
‘You put two and two together … ’
‘All investigations leak at some point, but I know what you’re like.’
‘What am I like?’
‘You stir shit up for the sake of it.’
‘Not strictly true – I usually only do it when I’m getting nowhere. How’s Brillo?’
Clarke looked down at the floor of her living room. ‘Curled up next to me.’
‘You’re walking him, though?’
‘We’re just back. So talk me through it – maybe then I’ll have something I can tell Laura while I’m buying her the first of several large gins.’
‘She’s the press – you don’t need to go kowtowing.’
‘You forgetting she’s helped us plenty in the past?’ Clarke sat down on the chair so heavily, Brillo’s head shot up. She gave him a pat of reassurance.
‘A young reporter up here, he did me a couple of favours so I decided I owed him.’
‘You couldn’t just take him to the pub?’
‘I’m not convinced he’s old enough to get served. Besides, what harm does it do?’
‘Ramsay Meiklejohn is a member of the House of Lords. That makes his disappearance – if that’s what it is – national news, maybe even international. The London tabloids are scenting blood.’
‘I’m still not seeing a downside.’
‘You might when they descend on Naver. You’ve only had the Scottish
