A Wife Worth Dying For

by Wilson Smillie

  ‘You pushed Jacky Dodds under the bus,’ Carter laid it out. ‘Captured on video. Pretty dumb for a so-called smart soldier.’

  ‘I didn’t touch ’im, Carter.’ Butler kept reducing the distance between them. They began edging upwards, towards the summit and the cairns.

  ‘You didn’t know the buses have cameras, did you?’ Carter said, aware only a few metres separated him from death. ‘The Bournemouth girl, she wasn’t the first, was she?’

  ‘Some girls go all wobbly at heights.’

  ‘Why use Joe’s identity?’

  ‘You’ve no idea, Carter, what life was like then. We was mates, he was all I could trust after Da was—’

  Carter interrupted him. ‘We have his death certificate.’

  ‘I was seven when your car smashed our motor,’ Butler edged closer. ‘You was lucky, too young to know your Ma and Da, but I ‘ave memories. After Ma died, the Yardies came. Da’s head exploded when I shot ‘im. If they’d given ‘im the gun, he’d have done me nae bother. I still see him some nights. You really ‘ave no fuckin’ idea.’

  ‘Joe helped you join the Forces.’

  ‘Got the Jamaicans off my back. Joe’s a true mate, never breathes a word to anyone.’

  ‘Tell me about Kelsa.’

  ‘Let’s ‘ave a drink, Leccy. Old mates, chattin’ about our women. The Sheep Heid is just over the ‘ill.’

  Carter couldn’t see how to get off the hill without Butler cornering him. He pulled out his phone. ‘I’m calling it in.’

  ‘For fuck’s sake, Carter, you’re really a stupid cunt,’ Butler laughed. He pulled out a device half the size of a mobile phone from his pocket and waved it at Carter. ‘Been blocking your phone since I got ’ere. Military issue lifesaver. Stopped the ragheads from blowin’ us up. Your pals in Cybercrime think I’m watchin’ Strictly.’

  ‘And Kelsa?’

  ‘Couldn’t make it tonight, has to be somewhere. You’re desperate to know, aren’t you? Let’s pick a stone around ‘ere where you’ll fall and smash your skull while gazing over the city at night.’

  Carter glanced at his watch: 00.35 a.m. ‘If I don’t text soon, uniforms will be here in minutes.’

  ‘You’re flyin’ solo, Carter. Nobody knows you’re ‘ere, that’s how stupid you are. Anyway, I’ve gotten out of tighter scrapes than this.’

  Butler sprang at him with the agility of a puma. Carter dodged downhill, following the path he’d climbed up. Butler was faster and stronger and soon caught up. Carter sidestepped, ducked, evaded and spun, turning back up the slope, the adrenaline suppressing the pain in his testicles and helping him push on. Going uphill, Butler was cumbersome, allowing Carter to put metres between them. Carter climbed the rocks towards the cairns, emerging on the steeper and dangerous city side.

  Breathing hard as he scrambled, he lost his footing. Slipping and tumbling the city lights beckoned, then his head took a glancing blow on a sharp rock.

  His eyes went woozy. Above him, a dark shape loomed.

  Butler was about to kill him.

  93

  Home Run

  He came to consciousness slowly, shivering, acutely aware of the cold. His head throbbed. Disorientated, a flurry of rain flashed across his face, and the smell of damp earth brought him back. Voices sailed on the wind. Cautiously, he clawed up the steep hill, every muscle complained – it was nearly too much, but somehow life drove him on. At the top, he saw multiple flashlights swaying, dancing and searching. Everywhere except where he was.

  Pulling himself upright on the northern cairn, the sight before him was a miracle: a company of uniformed police officers. Then he remembered Butler’s phone jammer. He struggled to keep his feet, using the cairn to steady himself. ‘I could do with a medic,’ he shouted to no one in particular. The lights converged on him as he stumbled down the rocky pathway, inches from death by extinct volcano.

  Tam Watson emerged from the darkness, shining his light in the direction of the voice. ‘Jesus. Leccy, what the fuck? You’re bleeding, that’s a bad cut on your head.’

  ‘Is Mason here? Or Dr Flowers?’ Carter casually asked the man who knew everything.

  ‘Nick’s here.’ Tam Watson began tending his wound.

  ‘Butler?’

  ‘Is unconscious over there,’ Tam pointed towards the Haunch. ‘Nick says he’s not Joe Moore. I dinnae understand, Leccy.’

  ‘They’re one and the same man, Tam,’ Carter groaned. ‘Tell Nick to cuff him before he recovers, or he’ll scatter your boys over the hill like skittles.’

  Tam motioned at two constables to get their cuffs out. ‘Why are you here, Leccy?’

  ‘I thought I could bring him in on my own.’

  ‘You’re a real twat,’ Tam shook his head in disbelief while wrapping an elastic bandage tightly around Carter’s head. Nick Mason appeared beside them.

  ‘You can thank Flowers,’ Mason said without compassion. ‘She called me straight away, didn’t wait for your daft deadline. The boss rounded up everyone we had. Even the Glen doesn’t know about this wee soiree, yet. What the fuck were you thinking?’

  ‘He wanted to meet up here. He raped my wife. If he raped your wife, you’d do the same.’

  Mason ignored the protest. ‘Charli got the birth and death certificates for Moore. Meningitis for Joe at eighteen. Then InterMide HR identified Joe Moore’s picture as Nathan Butler, a senior executive who runs their Special Projects Division.’

  ‘I knew that,’ Carter said.

  ‘How come?’

  ‘I talk to the dead.’

  ‘Did Butler hit you with his baseball bat?’ Mason asked.

  ‘No, I slipped and fell. He was about to crush my head with a rock.’

  ‘So how did you manage to club him and drag him over there?’

  94

  Capture

  Twelve hours later, Carter felt revived. He’d slept soundly at home, had had a relaxing breakfast and had taken congratulatory phone calls on his arrest from people he didn’t know. Nobody called to revoke his indefinite suspension.

  His head ached. He removed the bandage to check the wound on his forehead. It looked cool, but not quite the Harry Potter lightning bolt. He needed painkillers, so climbed into the Smart car and drove to Cameron Toll shopping centre. He wandered around the mall aimlessly, unsure, drained. Butler dominated his thoughts but was denied the critical activity of interviewing him. Who was leading the questions, and what approach were they taking?

  He hoped it was Mason. He’d watched his DI skilfully twist and turn Jimmy Logan earlier in the week. McKinlay wouldn’t get involved with the actual face-to-face but would offer guidance according to the evidence against him.

  At 2 p.m. she finally called him.

  ‘I heard about your escapade last night, Leccy. Why did you follow through with Butler alone when you’d already been suspended from duty?’

  ‘It was him and me,’ Carter replied. ‘Those were his conditions when he sent the message. I felt that maybe, somehow, I could bring him in.’

  ‘You didn’t inform me of this development at our meeting yesterday,’ she said. Carter could hear the weariness in her voice when she challenged him about his ways of working.

  ‘I did. During the discussion with DCI Jacobson,’ he replied. ‘Are you going to suspend me again?’

  ‘DCI Jacobson questioned Butler this morning, but he hasn’t said a word. Won’t even confirm his name. He refuses to engage. His brief says his client will not cooperate unless you are the interviewing officer. So I’ve spent the morning saving your rump from the spit-roasting it deserves. The seniors all want you sacked, but now we have a problem they can’t solve. The Chief Super is in a murderous mood but has agreed to lift your suspension temporarily. Get down here.’

  Thirty minutes later, Carter stood in the observation room for Interviews One and Two, watching Nathan Butler awaiting his lawyer’s return. Dr Flowers, DI Mason and DCI McKinlay were present.

  ‘This bastar
d killed Jacky.’ McKinlay kept it tight. ‘You’d better not let him off the hook. You’ve to call this number before you go in,’ she said, handing him a note.

  ‘Understood, ma’am. Dr Flowers here will keep me straight.’

  ‘Aye, right,’ McKinlay said. ‘I’ll be upstairs. Nick will keep me informed.’ She patted the lanky Detective Inspector on the shoulder and walked out of the room.

  ‘I’ll give Sergeant Carter and Dr Flowers a break in a while,’ Nick Mason said to her disappearing back. ‘Charli Garcia will partner me.’

  The interview began at 3 p.m. Dr Flowers operated the solid-state voice recorder for show, knowing multiple video cameras and dangling microphones in the room recorded second source material.

  The contrast between Nathan Butler and his lawyer, Dominic Love, was stark. Carter suspected it was planned. Love wore a grey suit with a striped tie in two shades of pink, over a bright blue shirt, but it was the shock of ginger dreadlocks that marked him out as a special brief. Butler wore a black T-shirt and black jeans. His chin was on his chest, eyes closed, his arms folded. The epitome of a man finally defeated. Carter didn’t buy it.

  Butler spoke when Carter entered the room. ‘Mate.’

  ‘For the record please.’ Carter spoke. ‘Confirm name, address and age.’

  ‘Sergeant Joe Moore, number 1520936.’ He maintained his non-threatening manner.

  ‘Joe Moore died a long time ago. Your name is Nathan Butler, you’re thirty-five and live at The Limes, Easter Murray Avenue, Edinburgh. A huge house for a wee shite like you.’

  ‘Sergeant, my client answered your question,’ Love interjected with a Glenrothes accent, straight from Dougray Scott’s housing scheme. ‘There’s no need for insults.’

  ‘Tell me about your relationship with—’ Carter paused as if choosing from a long list. ‘Jacky Dodds.’ This was Butler’s weak point. ‘You used Jacky to cover your tracks as Nathan, while Joe raped Alice for fun.’

  Carter had been briefed by Geddes’ friend that Moore had twice been captured in the field, suffered torture, and escaped his captors both times. He was resourceful. Carter knew he didn’t have the skills to get him to do anything he didn’t want. ‘He won’t use the befriending techniques he might have used in the battlefield scenario,’ said the Friend. ‘It’s a negotiation. Freedom is what he wants, so if you can offer him that, he might respond.’

  ‘How am I going to do that?’

  ‘Use your imagination,’ Friend had said.

  ‘When will you ask the questions, Sergeant?’ Love said. ‘We’re waiting.’

  ‘A double act, you two are,’ Carter responded. ‘When shown pictures, Nathan, four witnesses, identified you as the man closest to Jacky at the bus stop. And the CCTV from the bus shows you up close. Jacky was your problem, Nathan. I spooked him, and you lost him. In the Reverend, Jacky took your phone to lay a trail away from Alice, on your instructions, leaving us to chase Joe across town. But you left it too late to get the phone back. He’d gone walkabout, and the phone was dark. You found him once he lit it up, desperate for help. You knew we would discover the call you’d made to your own phone, but Jacky would be silenced by then. Dropping the phone into Lily’s bag was spur-of-the-moment. You weren’t thorough enough; as evidence, it confirmed you and Joe were the same person. Had you dumped it in a drain, we’d still have found it.’

  ‘Ah,’ said Love. ‘Evidence. I wondered when we’d get to that. Do you have any worth discussing? My client attempted to save Mr Dodds’ life at the bus stop – the witnesses were clear about that. Can we move on to something substantial, or cut to the credits and leave?’

  ‘Alice Deacon,’ Dr Flowers said. ‘You raped her and pushed her off the footbridge. What drives you to kill, Nathan?’

  Nobody replied to the question for a minute.

  ‘My client has authorised me to answer on his behalf,’ Love clarified finally. ‘My client had been in a relationship with Miss Deacon, and sex was consensual, but she suffered from mental health issues.’

  ‘Let’s take a walk,’ Carter said, scrutinising Butler’s body language. ‘Revisiting the scene of a crime can induce a grief-ridden confession. Shall we go to the bridge, Nathan? I’m willing. Are you?’

  Butler stretched himself and regarded his watch, as if late for a meeting.

  ‘Lily Sutherland,’ Flowers took her turn. ‘Raped, drugged, pushed off a bridge in front of a moving train. Bit of a pattern forming there.’

  ‘My client ended his relationship with Miss Sutherland the day before,’ Love said, expressionless. ‘Clearly, she was fragile and distraught and took her own life. My client was at home sleeping and, unfortunately for him, he has no witness to attest to his slumber.’

  ‘Kelsa Dunsmuir—’

  ‘Ancient history, Sergeant Carter,’ Love smiled smugly.

  ‘Maybe for you.’ Carter wanted to punch him and keep punching till he choked on his dreadlocks.

  ‘Since her marriage – to you, Sergeant – my client hasn’t seen or spoken to Mrs Carter. I expect you to be objective about this. My client’s freedom is at stake.’

  ‘Not seen her, eh, Nathan?’ Carter grabbed the opportunity. ‘What about the messages on her phone? We have them recorded as evidence of contact. Your advisor is lying, you know that. You haven’t told him the truth.’

  Butler still didn’t react. At this pace, Carter would achieve nothing. Butler had been charged with assaulting a police officer, to get his DNA for comparison with the profiles from the National DNA Database. Love had complained about the charge and claimed it represented a fishing expedition. In a few hours or so Butler could be released, unless a judge was compelled to extend his time in custody based on more substantial fare.

  It was tag time.

  ‘Kings of Leon, Nathan. Great live band, aren’t they?’

  Dr Flowers stopped the recording, and they both left the room.

  95

  Sniper, Sniper

  ‘Does that slothful stretch mean he’s interested in your proposition, Leccy? Go to the bridge?’ Dr Flowers asked as soon as they were in the observation room. ‘DCI McKinlay won’t agree to that, would she?’

  ‘He’s reacted to the possibility,’ Carter replied. ‘Nick, you can try the bad cop routine and see how far you get.’

  ‘Brilliant handover, Leccy,’ Mason said sarcastically. ‘Where am I supposed to go with it?’

  ‘Use some imagination.’

  They climbed the stairs leaden-footed. ‘Where did that experience land on your weeping psycho chart?’ Carter asked her.

  ‘He’s in battlefield mode,’ she replied. ‘He doesn’t care about the women; he’s focused on you. You could try for shared experiences, things you both have in common. The accident— and Kelsa. You said he got all angry on the hill when you mentioned the things in his past. Maybe it’s an angle?’

  ‘Leading him to confess in tears?’ Carter doubted it.

  At the custody desk, Tam Watson beckoned them.

  ‘Leccy, a woman’s here asking for you. She’s in office G Four.’

  ‘It’s not a good time, Tam.’

  ‘She witnessed your fight last night.’

  Carter stopped, stunned. He’d not seen anyone else on the hill. He found G Four, knocked, and went in. ‘I’m Sergeant Carter, this is Dr—’

  ‘Lisa Flowers,’ said the woman sitting at a table. She was slim and well dressed, thirty-something, her black hair cut in a bob. The white blouse was open at the neck, revealing a silver St Christopher pendant on a chain. She smiled at them with anxious blue eyes.

  ‘Jodie Reynolds,’ she introduced herself hesitantly.

  ‘How can we help, Miss Reynolds?’ Carter sat across from her, missing the cue.

  ‘‘I sent the greeting cards to your home.’

  Carter and Flowers shared a glance.

  ‘I know he’s here,’ Jodie’s tone was uneasy and guarded. ‘TV said a thirty-five-year-old man had been arrested.’

&nbs
p; ‘Charged with assaulting a police officer.’ Carter played for time. ‘What do you know about him?’

  ‘I want to make a statement.’ She said, blue eyes glancing anxiously between them.

  Flowers looked at Carter and, seeing no dissent, took the lead. ‘He raped you too, didn’t he?’

  She nodded delicately. ‘I had the baseball bat,’ she said. ‘He was going to kill you.’

  Carter acknowledged the fact with a nod.

  ‘Kelsa and I were good friends during my InterMide days. I followed him to the hill. I knew you’d go it alone because that’s how you are. But, trust me, you don’t know Nathan like I do.’

  Carter’s thoughts were spinning. ‘I’m missing a few pieces of your jigsaw, Jodie. Greeting cards, baseball bats—?’

  ‘Surveillance, tracking, listening, following, researching, planning, wishing, hoping. All at him and anyone who crosses his path. I have other pieces, Lachlan. I was at Kelsa’s funeral too. He kicked you into her grave.

  Carter’s face didn’t reveal his confusion, but he felt he’d gained a lever.

  ‘Why post the cards? Call the station, it would have been easier.’

  ‘At InterMide,’ she looked only at Carter, ‘we shared the same telecoms skills – wired, wireless and satellite communications. Nathan had had the benefit of military training. Handling kit I never knew existed. He trained me up, taught me everything. We were soul mates till I tasted his particular brand of vodka.’ Her voice turned bitter. ‘He changed my life. After he attacked me, I was broken for years. When I’d recovered, I made a pact of vengeance, to see him dead or locked up for life.’

  ‘You’ve been tracking me,’ Carter said. ‘You know Dr Flowers through her association with me.’

  ‘To answer your question, Lachlan, snail-mail is hard to intercept, and I do things my way, it keeps me alive. You’re the only policeman that’s come anywhere close to knowing how he operates. You’ll save lives, Lachlan, but you need protection because you’re a bit of a wild card.’