The Scene of Crime Unit hadn’t been thrilled by news that Rebus and Siobhan had entered the crime site. Prints of their shoes had been taken, for purposes of elimination, along with hair samples.

“Go easy,” Rebus had warned. “I can’t afford to be generous.”

The SOCO-Scene of Crime officer-had apologized. “Got to get the root, else we can’t get the DNA.” On the third try with the tweezers, he’d been successful. One of his colleagues had almost finished videoing the scene. Another was taking photographs and yet another was in conversation with Siobhan about how much of the other clothing they should take to the lab.

“Just the most recent,” she told him, her eyes on Rebus. He nodded his agreement, sharing her train of thought. Even if Colliar was a message to Cafferty, it didn’t mean there weren’t other messages here.

“Sports shirt seems to have a company logo on it,” the SOCO commented.

“Your job could hardly be easier,” Siobhan said with a smile.

“My job’s collection. The rest is up to you.”

“Speaking of which,” Rebus interrupted, “any chance this could all go to Edinburgh rather than Stirling?”

The SOCO stiffened his shoulders. Rebus didn’t know him but he knew the type: late forties, half a lifetime’s experience. There was plenty of rivalry between the various police regions as it was. Rebus held up his hands in mock surrender.

“All I mean is, it’s an Edinburgh case. Makes sense if they don’t have to keep traipsing through to Stirling every time there’s something you need to show them.”

Siobhan was smiling again, amused by his use of they and them. But she gave a slight nod, too, recognizing a useful ploy when she saw one.

“Especially now,” Rebus was arguing, “with the demonstrations and everything.” He looked up to where a helicopter was circling. Gleneagles surveillance, it had to be. Someone up there wondering at the sudden appearance of two cars and two unmarked white vans at the Clootie Well. Returning his gaze to the SOCO, Rebus realized the chopper had sealed the deal. A time like this, cooperation was paramount. It had been hammered home in memorandum after memorandum. Macrae himself had said as much at the past dozen or so briefings at Gayfield Square.