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behind the bar or at the piano. His replacement answered her enquiry with a knowing look. ‘His night off. Meeting his girl.’
    Rhona was relieved Chrissy wasn’t there making eyes at her over McNab’s shoulder, nursing opinions to be served up later, cold and unpalatable. OnlySandra sat at the bar with her colleague Simon. They were en route to the Western Infirmary lecture theatre for their Tuesday night dose of forensic medicine. They were halfway through the nine-month course. Rhona had given the DNA lecture just after the Christmas break.
    ‘What is it tonight, then?’
    ‘Forensic Odontology,’ Sandra told her.
    ‘Paisley, the biting capital of the world.’
    ‘I take it it’s the same stories every year?’
    ‘They only repeat the good ones.’
    Rhona watched them leave, conscious now that she was alone with McNab. The barman had brought her usual glass of wine and McNab’s beer order. The barman’s brief enquiry about Sean was difficult to answer. Sean had sent only one text since he left for Dublin, to say he’d arrived safely and would call. Whatever was happening there wasn’t something he wanted to talk about and she had been too preoccupied to dwell on it. Sean’s family were his own affair. He’d volunteered nothing about them and she hadn’t forced the issue.
    ‘He’s not sure when he’ll be back.’ That was truthful enough.
    McNab waited for the barman to move away before he said, ‘There was a similar case in 2001. A black boy’s torso was pulled out of the Thames. D’you remember?’
    It had been high profile for a while, making the national newspapers. The investigating team had tracked the child via his bone mineral content to the Yoruba plateau in Nigeria. Despite extensive enquiriesthere, no mother had come forward to claim she’d lost a child. But there had been a connection to Glasgow. A Nigerian woman had been taken into custody and questioned. Nothing came of it, as far as Rhona knew.
    ‘Could be just a coincidence,’ she suggested.
    ‘Or another piece of the same jigsaw.’
    They discussed a recent newspaper article that had estimated there were at least three hundred thousand people living illegally in Britain, evading the immigration authorities for years. Many of them had kids now. During the ‘Adam’ enquiry in London, schools had reported black kids missing from their classrooms. Missing because their families moved on, or missing like Adam and Abel?
    ‘The DI’s in touch with the Met,’ McNab told her. ‘Maybe they can throw some light on our case.’
    Rhona’s glass was empty. McNab offered her a refill, but she declined. ‘I have to get home.’
    ‘Of course.’
    She slipped off the stool. ‘See you at the meeting tomorrow.’
    It was what any colleague would say.
    ‘See you.’
    She was conscious of his eyes on her back as she walked to the stairs. Outside she took a deep gulp of Glasgow air. It tasted sweet despite the fumes. The first meeting alone with McNab was over. The next, should it happen, would be easier, the one after easier still. But she wished Sean was at the flat waiting for her. She wanted to drown McNab’s scent in Sean’s.

    Rhona called in at the pasta shop and bought fresh pasta and tomato sauce. Mr Margiotta suggested a suitable bottle of red wine to go with it and she acquiesced. Sean was the wine connoisseur. Normally she didn’t have to choose.
    The meeting with McNab had disturbed her, bringing back uncomfortable memories. He had been one of the reasons she’d avoided forming another relationship.
    Sean had changed that. She wasn’t sure what love was, yet he had used that word before he left for Dublin. Part of her wished he hadn’t said it, knowing they had crossed a line.
    Despite the echoing emptiness of the flat, she felt relieved to be there. She locked and bolted the front door in a sudden need for security. In her first few moments in the hall without the soft miaowing of Chance, she made the momentous decision to