‘How long have you got?’
‘Let’s say fifteen seconds.’
‘Then I’ll give you two words: “logistics” and “solutions”.’
‘I feel duly enlightened.’ Rebus watched as Clarke made her way back to the Audi. ‘Thanks for that.’
‘No problem.’ The man took out his phone and was checking for messages as Rebus headed across the forecourt.
‘Anything?’ he asked, sliding into the passenger seat.
‘She wasn’t working that day,’ Clarke obliged. ‘The staff who were have all been questioned. One remembered Annette coming in and asking to use the loo. She bought a bottle of water and headed off again into town.’
‘Nice of the bus not to wait for her.’
‘Actually, the driver’s mortified. But he was obeying company rules.’
Rebus peered out through the windscreen in search of CCTV.
‘Cameras caught her,’ Clarke confirmed. ‘Busy on her phone.’
‘Could she have had a rendezvous?’
‘No family or friends in Pitlochry.’ Clarke thought for a moment. ‘There’s another camera on the main drag but it failed to pick her out, and none of the shopkeepers remember seeing her.’
‘So she’d maybe found a lift straight off. .’
‘Maybe.’
‘Could she have started walking across country?’
‘She was a city girl, John. Why would she do that?’
All Rebus could offer to this was a shrug. Clarke checked her watch. ‘It’s half an hour later now than it was when she set off. She could have passed through town without anyone noticing, maybe not started thumbing till she reached the other end.’ She started the ignition and put the car into gear. As they left the forecourt, the salesman gave Rebus a wave.
‘He sells solutions,’ Rebus explained to Clarke.
‘He should be in here with us, then.’
Once they had passed through Pitlochry again, there wasn’t much to do but rejoin the A9. They had the option: south towards Perth or north towards Inverness. Clarke hesitated.
‘Let’s give it a few more miles,’ Rebus said. ‘Scenery’s changing; might get more like the photo.’
‘We’re not going as far as Aviemore, mind.’
‘My skiing days are behind me.’
‘You don’t think it would impress Nina Hazlitt?’
‘What? Me going skiing?’
‘You being able to tell her you visited Aviemore as part of your mission.’
‘Everything in its time.’
‘After twelve years, though? You seriously think there’s anything to find there?’
‘No,’ Rebus was forced to admit, turning the Kate Bush CD back on. She seemed to be singing about her love for a snowman.
10
The moment they rejoined the A9, they hit roadworks, traffic down to a single lane and moving at a crawl. A barrier separated their northbound lane from the ones heading south, meaning no opportunity for a U-turn.
‘We’re stuck,’ Clarke commented.
‘Major resurfacing,’ Rebus explained, reading one of the signs. ‘Expect delays for four weeks.’
‘We might still be here in four weeks.’
‘Just as well we enjoy each other’s company.’
She gave a snort at this. ‘At least they are working.’
This was true. In the lane that had been blocked off, men in yellow reflective jackets were carrying tools or operating diggers. The sky was filled with a pulsing orange glow from the warning lights atop the various vehicles. The speed limit had been reduced to thirty.
‘Thirty would be luxury,’ Clarke complained. ‘Speedo says twenty.’
‘Slow and steady wins the day,’ Rebus recited.
‘That’s always been your motto, has it?’ She managed a thin smile. Rebus was studying the workmen.
‘How about pulling over?’ he suggested.
‘What?’
‘If she hitched along here, no way they wouldn’t have noticed.’
A line of cones separated inside and outside lanes, but they were well spaced and it was easy to negotiate the Audi between two of them. Clarke pulled the handbrake on.
‘Not the worst idea I’ve ever had, then?’ Rebus pretended to guess.
As they got out of the car, a man strode towards them. Clarke had her warrant card ready. The man stiffened.
‘What’s happened?’
He was in his mid fifties, curls of grey hair escaping from the rim of his hard hat. Rebus got the feeling there were many layers of clothing beneath the high-visibility jacket and the fluorescent orange work trousers.
‘Did you hear about the girl who’s gone missing?’ Clarke asked.
The man looked from Clarke to Rebus and back again, then nodded.
‘I didn’t catch your name,’ Rebus added.
‘Bill Soames.’
‘You’re in charge of the crew, Mr Soames?’ Rebus looked over Soames’s shoulder towards the workmen. They had stopped what they were doing.
‘They’re probably worried you’re Revenue or Immigration,’ Soames explained.
‘And why would either of those be a problem?’ Clarke asked.
‘They wouldn’t,’ Soames stated, meeting her eyes. He half turned and gestured to the men that they should continue with their work. ‘Best if we talk in the office, though. .’
He led them past the Audi, along a carriageway stripped of its tarmac, chunks of which were piled up next to the verge. Temporary overhead lights, powered by diesel generators, had been switched on, adding to the noise and fumes.
‘You work nights?’ Clarke asked.
‘Twelve-hour shifts,’ Soames confirmed. ‘The night crew are in there.’ He pointed to a Portakabin they were just passing. ‘Six beds, one shower, plus a kitchen best avoided.’ There was a row of three portable toilets, then another Portakabin, its windows covered with protective grilles. Soames opened its door and ushered them inside. He switched on a light and an electric heater. ‘I could probably rustle up some tea. .’
‘Thanks, but this shouldn’t take long.’ There were plans of the roadworks on the room’s only table. Soames rolled them up, making space.
‘Sit yourselves down,’ he said.
‘So the crew are Polish?’ Rebus asked. Soames gave a questioning look, and Rebus nodded towards the dictionary on the worktop. English-Polish/Polish-English.
‘Not all of them,’ Soames answered. ‘But some, yes. And their English sometimes falls a bit short.’
‘So what’s the Polish for tarmacadam?’
Soames smiled. ‘Stefan acts as their foreman. He’s got better English than I have.’
‘They sleep on site?’
‘Long way to travel home every day.’
‘And cook meals here? Basically live by the side of the road?’
Soames nodded. ‘That’s how it is.’
‘What about yourself, Mr Soames?’ Clarke asked.
‘I’m over near Dundee. It’s a slog but I make it home most nights.’
‘There must be a night-shift supervisor?’
Soames nodded and checked his watch. ‘He’ll be here in an hour and a half. I’d rather he didn’t catch me having a chinwag when I’m supposed to be out there.’
‘Point taken,’ Clarke said, without making it sound like an apology. ‘So you’ve heard about Annette McKie?’
‘Of course.’
‘Has anyone talked to you?’
‘You mean police?’ Soames shook his head. ‘You’re the first.’
‘She was probably hitching north out of Pitlochry. That means she would have had to pass right by here.’
‘If she was on foot, someone would have noticed.’
‘That’s what we were thinking.’
‘Well, she didn’t. I asked the men.’
‘All of them?’
‘All of them,’ Soames confirmed. ‘Time she was in the area, it would have been the day crew.’
‘The night crew’s Portakabin has windows, though,’ Rebus countered. ‘Did you ask them too?’
‘No,’ Soames admitted. ‘But I will, if you like. Give me a number and I’ll get back to you.’
‘Be easier if you did it just now.’
‘Some might still be asleep.’
‘Wake them up.’ Rebus paused. ‘Please.’
Soames thought for a moment before making his decision. He pressed his palms against the tabletop and started rising to his feet.