Archibald turned on him, waving his fist. ‘Don’t talk about her like that.’
‘I’m just—’
‘You abducted her. Knocked her cold and dragged her up here.’
‘Any signs of a struggle, Al? Huh? Did the post-mortem show she’d been dragged anywhere?’
Archibald looked at him. ‘You know it didn’t.’
More laughter. ‘No, Al, I don’t know jack-shit. I’m just guessing, that’s all. Same as you are.’
Oakes started walking again. The wind was rising, a fine rain blowing into their faces, threatening to drench them. Rebus looked back. Already the car was lost to view.
‘It’s OK,’ Archibald assured him. ‘I’m marking our route as we go.’ He had the map folded, tapped a pen against one of the contour lines.
Rebus took the map from him, wanting to be sure. He’d done map-reading in the army. It looked like Archibald knew what he was doing. Rebus nodded and handed the map back. But the look in Archibald’s eyes, that mix of fear and expectation... Rebus patted his shoulder.
‘Come on, slowcoaches,’ Oakes said, waiting till they caught up.
‘You took it too far,’ Rebus told him.
‘Huh?’
‘Your little joke with the skip, I didn’t mind that so much. But the cemetery, the patio... no way you’re getting away with those.’
‘You’re forgetting your old flame.’ Oakes turned towards him. There wasn’t more than a foot or two between them. ‘I talked to her, remember? How come she’s not on your little hit-list? She told me the two of you might be hooking up again.’ He tutted. ‘Don’t tell me you’re going to let her down? Does she know?’
Rebus caught Oakes a glancing blow. Fist barely connected with cheek, Oakes arching back on the balls of his feet. Fast, he was hellish fast. Didn’t change his stance, so confident, so sure of his opponent. Archibald’s arms wrapped themselves around Rebus, but Rebus shrugged them off.
‘I’m fine,’ he said, voice lacking emotion.
‘Want some more?’ Oakes threw open his arms. ‘I’m right here, man.’ There was a graze on his cheek, but he paid it no notice.
Rebus knew he couldn’t afford to lose it; had to stay calm. But Oakes had crawled all the way under his skin. Laughing at him now, putting a theatrical hand to his face.
‘Ouch! That stings.’ Laughing all the time. Then walking away, and now it was Archibald’s turn to pat Rebus’s shoulder.
‘I’m OK,’ Rebus told him, making after Oakes.
A little later, Oakes stopped. Visibility was down to a hundred yards, maybe less. ‘Where’s Swanston Village from here?’ he asked. He seemed to have forgotten all about Rebus. Archibald checked the map, pointed with his finger. He was pointing into swirling smoke, pointing into nothingness.
‘It’s like bloody Brigadoon,’ Rebus said, lighting a cigarette. Oakes took a bar of chocolate from his pocket, offered it around.
‘You know,’ he said, ‘I’m amazed you’re trusting me. Not you, Mr Archibald, you’ve got no choice. But the Inspector here.’ Oakes fixed Rebus with his dark, peering eyes. ‘You’re a hard man to figure.’
‘And you’re full of shite.’
‘Please, John...’ Archibald had a hand on Rebus’s shoulder. Despite his clothing, he looked cold and tired and suddenly so very old. Rebus realised what this meant to him: an answer, one way or another. Either Oakes had killed his niece — in which case there could be proper grieving — or someone else had, in which case he’d wasted these years with his pet theory, and her killer was still out there somewhere...
‘OK, Alan,’ Rebus said. The three of them out here: an old man, a nutter with shorn head and piercing eyes, and John bloody Rebus. Oakes enjoying every moment, Archibald looking as brittle as the chocolate bar.
And Rebus? Trying hard not to add another body to the hill’s death toll.
Oakes offered Archibald his flask, and Archibald took a grateful drink. Rebus declined, and Oakes screwed the top back on.
‘Not having one yourself?’ Rebus asked.
Oakes ignored him, offered him chocolate instead. Rebus again refused.
‘So where exactly are we going?’ Oakes asked.
‘It’s not far now,’ Archibald told him.
Oakes saw Rebus studying him. ‘Got any questions for me yourself, John? Any unsolveds you want to pin on me?’
‘Anything in particular you want me to ask?’
‘Nicely put, sir. I see someone killed Darren Rough.’
‘You were outside my flat that night.’
‘Was I?’
‘You took the car.’ Rebus paused. ‘You saw Rough leave.’
‘Man, I was busy that night, wasn’t I?’ Rebus stared him out. Oakes came close, leaned in towards him as if to speak confidentially. Rebus moved away. ‘I’m not going to bite,’ Oakes said.
‘Say what you were going to say.’
Oakes put on a wounded look. ‘I don’t know if I want to now.’ Then he grinned. ‘But I will anyway. I saw him leave your place, even followed him for a while. I wondered who he was, only found out later when I saw his picture in the paper.’
‘What happened?’
‘You tell me. I lost him.’ Oakes shrugged. ‘He cut across The Meadows. No way to follow in a car.’ He gave another wink.
‘This is all just another part of your little—’
‘Don’t say it!’ Alan Archibald screeched. ‘Don’t say it’s a game! It’s not a game, not to me!’ He was shaking.
Rebus pointed to Oakes, but spoke to Archibald. ‘This is what he wants. You thought by bringing him up here you’d have the upper hand. Don’t you think he knew that, played on it? Look at him, Alan, he’s laughing at you. He’s laughing at all of us!’
‘I’m not laughing.’ And it was true: Oakes was stony-faced, his eyes on Archibald. He walked up to him, touched his arm. ‘Sorry,’ he said. ‘Come on, you’re right — we’ve got work to do.’
He started walking again. Archibald made to apologise to Rebus, but Rebus waved it aside. Oakes was moving off at a brisk pace, as if determined to finish things. That look on his face... Rebus couldn’t read it. There had been something there, a gloss of sympathy. But beneath it he thought he detected something more feral, itself mixed with something like the curiosity of the scientist when faced with some unexpected result.
Visibility was decreasing as they climbed.
‘You’ve been playing a little game with me, haven’t you, Al?’
‘What do you mean?’
‘Come on, Al, the route you’ve brought us, we’ve already been past the spot where she was killed. I bet you’ve got it all planned so we’ll end up circling it. You want me rattled, don’t you, Al? It’s not going to happen.’
‘How do you know where she was killed?’ Rebus asked.
‘I got all the newspapers. Plus Al kept sending me stuff, didn’t you, Al?’
‘You said you never read any of it,’ Archibald said, trying to catch his breath.
‘So I lied. Thing is, I’m getting a picture in my head... They had sex further up the slope. Then she panicked, ran back down. That’s when he hit her. But where they had sex... he left something behind.’
‘What?’
‘Hidden.’
‘What?’
‘Alan, he’s—’
Archibald turned on Rebus. ‘Shut up!’ he hissed.
‘I’m seeing three hillocks,’ Oakes called back. ‘If there’s a line of hillocks anywhere nearby, I’d be interested to see them.’
‘Hillocks...?’ Archibald broke into a trot, trying to reach Oakes. He had the map in front of his face, seeking the corresponding contours. ‘Maybe just to the west.’
Rebus hadn’t seen him mark anything on the map with his pen, not for a while.