by Ed James
Irwin didn’t even blink. ‘I heard you.’
Cullen leaned back.
Someone knocked on the door. A female officer whose name Cullen couldn’t remember stuck her head through the door. ‘Need a word.’ She held the door for him.
Lamb gave a nod, checked his watch and leaned over the voice recorder. ‘DS Cullen left the room at ten twenty-six—’
Cullen stepped out into the hallway and closed the door behind him. The woman whose name he couldn’t remember offered her hand and he shook it. He tried to remember her name, or her job, or a possible reason why she had asked him to step out of the room midway through an interview.
She smiled. ‘Shall we go?’
‘Where?’
She pointed down the hallway. ‘To the interview?’
He threw his thumb over his shoulder. ‘Didn’t you just interrupt the interview to have a word with me?’
She laughed, a high, happy sound that seemed about as at home within these walls as her bright orange wool jumper.
‘I’m serious. What interview?’
She hesitated. ‘The job interview? The one DI Methven delegated to you?’
Cheeky bastard…
‘With Angela Lamb.’
10
‘Morning.’ Angela stepped into the room and closed the door behind her and took a seat across from Cullen and the mysterious HR lady. ‘Again.’
Cullen looked up from the thick file in his hands and laid it back on the table. ‘Why didn’t you tell me you were here for a job interview when we bumped into each other?’
‘Just wanted to check you’re still the formidable detective I worked with all those years ago.’
The HR woman giggled.
Cullen reached for the file to dodge their looks and gestured around the grim interview room. ‘I can only apologise for conducting this interview in here. The office space upstairs is struggling to cope with the move up from Leith Walk. Three big teams in one place and all that.’
‘No problem. Not my first rodeo. I’ll miss the old station…’ Angela paused, biting her lower lip. ‘That is, if you’ll have me back.’
Cullen shot the HR woman a side glance to see if she wanted to take this one, but he just got a nod. So he focused on Angela and narrowed his eyes. ‘Why do you want to return?’
She stared at him, not blinking. ‘Because motherhood isn’t enough. Not for me. Don’t get me wrong, I love my kids to bits. But… The baby brain, the childcare dramas, the mother groups, the competition and stress of when your kids hit which developmental markers and what to do when they’re off the chart…’
She’s clearly thought about this for a long time.
‘I had my first last year.’ The HR woman was beaming with joy. ‘But being with them all day? I get that.’
‘Don’t get me wrong, it’s so rewarding. But… I need a bigger purpose to my life.’ Angela’s eyes went out of focus. Then she took a sharp breath. ‘I want my old job back because I miss it. I didn’t think I would when I left it to have kids. But I value it more now, not just because of the balance it offers to my domestic life, but because…’ She cringed a little. ‘Sorry if this sounds naff, but having children has changed how I think about community and individual responsibility. But I want more. I need more.’
Another giggle from HR. ‘Okay, so the interview will form a series of competency-based questions.’
‘Anything you want to add?’ The HR woman scrawled all over her form, spiderweb handwriting that even she couldn’t read. Cullen had no hope. ‘Anything at all?’
‘I just want to say…’ Angela cringed again. Then she gritted her teeth. ‘I always thought my forte was hard facts, analysis, interviews, reviewing CCTV, but I want to make a contribution to my community.’ She took a quick breath and looked Cullen straight in the eye. ‘The thought that my kids get to live lives as safe as anyone could hope to make them... Every day that thought gives me a feeling of deep gratitude and reassurance, because parenting is hard. Being responsible for two little human beings that are utterly defenceless and who look up to you with complete trust, that’s hard. But I can give other people that same feeling, then that’s why I’m here today and why I’m asking for my old job back.’ She sat back and folded her hands in her lap.
Cullen looked at her, saw that her slight discomfort had given way to her previous calm certainty. ‘Well, thanks for that. We’ll, uh, we’ll think things through and… You know how it is.’
Angela nodded. ‘When should I expect to hear?’
‘Be in the next fortnight.’ Another laugh. ‘Thanks for your time.’ The HR woman gestured at the door. ‘You know the way out, I’m sure?’
‘Sure.’ Angela frowned at Cullen.
‘I need to have a quick word with…’ He swallowed. ‘With my colleague here. You got time for a coffee?’
Angela glanced at her watch. ‘Mum’s minding the kids, but sure, a quick coffee should be fine. See you in the canteen.’ She grabbed her bag and coat, then left them to it.
As the door closed, Cullen got to his feet, clutching his file. ‘Right, that was super easy. Can you fast-track it?’
The HR woman puffed up her cheeks. ‘That’s not how this works and you know full well. I’ll discuss this with DI Methven and he can advise you on the outcome.’
Cullen nodded. ‘But she’ll get the job, right?’
‘No comment.’ HR lady clapped her hands and rubbed them together. ‘Now, I must be off.’ She offered Cullen her hand. ‘And like I said, nice to work with you again.’
Cullen shook her hand, squinting at her. ‘Sorry, I’ve got to admit, I can’t remember when we did before.’
She stuck her hands in the pockets of her skirt and laughed. ‘Well, I won’t spoil the fun of you working that one out for yourself. Like Angela said, you’re the detective. I knew all along that you couldn’t remember my name.’ She walked out of the room.
Cullen watched the door close behind her, a blush creeping up his neck. This is going to annoy me all bloody day now. He opened the door and stepped out into the corridor. And bumped straight into Bill Lamb. Like hitting a brick wall. Christ, the guy is built these days. ‘Jesus, Bill, what the hell are you doing?’
Lamb dismissed the question with an irritated scowl. ‘How did Angela’s interview go?’
Cullen dodged his hard stare. ‘What makes you think I was interviewing her?’
‘Got her name on your pack, you idiot.’ Lamb nodded at the file under Cullen’s arm. ‘Besides, I saw her come out of the room. So, how did it go?’
‘You know I can’t tell you anything. But do you know the sugar plum fairy’s name?’
Lamb frowned. ‘Donna Nichols?’
Cullen clicked his fingers. ‘That’s it.’
Lamb laughed. ‘And you thought you shagged her, didn’t you?’
Cullen’s blush made a comeback. ‘Wouldn’t be the first time.’
‘You’re not her type, Shagger.’ Lamb laughed. ‘She’s the better half of my boss.’
‘Cargill?’ Cullen’s turn to frown. ‘But she’s a…’
Lamb laughed even louder. ‘Aye, last I checked she was a woman. Yes, Donna is gay and no, it’s not very likely that you shagged her. No need to worry.’ He gave a wink then walked off, throwing his parting shot over his shoulder. ‘Now, Shagger, you need a lift to Tulliallan?’
Cullen stood rooted to the ground, the third blush in ten minutes creeping up his neck.
Tulliallan? What?
Ah shite, that training course. Bloody hell.
11
Cullen floored it as he overtook the tractor, cruising past the golf club. No time to enjoy the view, and not the right season for it anyway. He couldn’t remember seeing more than three colours the entire way here – brown, grey and... brownish grey. February hadn’t opened up to spring yet, still stuck in winter. He slowed for the turning to Tulliallan Castle – the castle a plain grey, matching the drab barracks behind it. He pulled into the car
park and screeched to a halt.
Twelve, on the dot. One minute to my next bollocking.
He jumped out of the car and speed-walked to the building, reluctant to arrive out of breath and sweaty. He stepped through the doors and checked the gleaming foyer, packed with lumps in cheap suits, looking for a sign to—
‘You’re late!’ Bain was leaning against the floor-to-ceiling window, his petulant frown drawing attention to his shaved head, his full beard weirdly starting below the ears. Made him look like a painted egg. ‘One minute late, Sundance. Tut tut.’ He pushed off the wall and grabbed Cullen’s arm to guide him to a quiet corner of the grand reception area. ‘Here.’ He held Cullen’s gaze. ‘What’s Methven got against me?’
‘Methven? Other than the usual?’
Bain’s grip hardened. ‘What’s that supposed to mean?’
Cullen slapped his hand away. ‘I need to sign in.’ He started to walk towards the registration desk.
Bain caught up with him and got in his way. ‘Come on, what’s his problem?’
Cullen tried to push past.
But Bain was like a terrier, scuttling around him and getting back in his way, chin cocked and teeth bared. ‘Methven got another one of those helper jobs for the Rape Squad for your better half. Guess who he seconded. That prick McMann. Not me, oh no, never me. You’ve been given two of those gigs. TWO! But—’
‘Stop shouting.’ Cullen glanced around, but nobody seemed to care about the commotion. Too many dark-suited figures with clipboards and conference packs. Two detective sergeants from Dundee stood in the registration queue, like they were in the middle of a lovers’ tiff.
Cullen stared at Bain. ‘Fine. Sharon told Methven anyone but you.’
‘What?’ Bain stood there, his slack mouth hanging open. Then he swallowed and found his voice again. ‘That fuckin’ bitch.’
‘That’s my girlfriend you’re talking about.’
Bain shrugged and his aggression fell off him like a bag he was tired of carrying. ‘Well, Sundance, you know how I feel about her.’
‘Remember that Methven sent us on that case in Glasgow.’
‘Aye, those fuckin’ South African pricks. I tell you, Sundance…’ Bain started a slow walk over to the classroom door.
Bain leaned over to Cullen, squeezed in at the back of the classroom with all the other late arrivals. ‘I know it’s only been half an hour, and I never thought I’d hear myself say this, but I’ve learnt something.’
Cullen knew there was some lame joke in the offing, but couldn’t help himself. ‘Aye?’
Bain leaned back, not bothering to lower his voice anymore. ‘I’ve just learned that this clown has absolutely fuckin’ nothing to teach me.’
The room fell silent. Lamb was staring straight at Bain. ‘I’m sorry, Brian, am I boring you?’
‘Aye, you are.’ Bain folded his arms and looked out of the window, his bravado yielding. ‘The rest of these muppets are hanging off every daft word coming out of your mouth, so don’t mind me.’
‘Excuse me?’ Lamb put a hand to his ear. ‘I didn’t catch that.’
‘Nothing.’
‘Well, let’s chat about this nothing during lunch.’
‘Have I been naughty?’
‘Brian…’ Lamb looked at his watch, a gesture he was clearly enjoying these days, the snap of the wrist making his arm flex just enough to pull the jacket tight over his muscles. Again. ‘And would you look at that, it’s lunch time already. The day’s just flying by. Back here at two.’ He pointed at Bain, then at the door, then headed out into the corridor, cutting a swathe through the class as they got up.
Bain sighed, deep and loud. ‘Ah, shite.’ He stood up and followed Lamb out, head shaking like this was all beneath him.
Cullen took his phone from his pocket and started typing a text to Sharon. ‘Out at bloody Tulliallan on—’
‘Scott!’ DI Terry Lennox grinned at him. Heroin thin, lank greasy hair. ‘How’s it going?’
‘Aye, not bad.’ Cullen got up and slid his phone back in his pocket. ‘Been a while.’
‘And then some.’ Lennox glanced around the now half-empty room. ‘You still in Edinburgh?’
‘For my sins. You still Glasgow?’
‘Nah, I transferred to Livingston when they restructured. Working the MIT now, like the rest of us here.’ He looked around. ‘Bain doesn’t get any better, does he?’
‘Gets worse. Every day.’
Lennox chuckled. ‘And what’s he doing here anyway? I thought this course was for detective sergeants only?’
‘You’re a DI.’
‘I’m teaching.’ Lennox groaned. ‘Don’t tell me he is as well?’
‘Hardly.’ Cullen paused. ‘He’s a DS again.’
Lennox frowned. ‘Don’t tell me his chickens have come home to roost?’
‘Still got a few left in the hen house.’
A woman’s laugh made Cullen turn around. He did a double take. ‘Hold on, you’re…’
‘Yvonne Flockhart.’ She looked like a model from the cover of a glossy magazine. She leaned in for a kiss on the cheek and whispered, ‘And I remember you very well, Scott Cullen.’ She straightened back up, the consummate professional again, straight-faced. ‘Didn’t know you two were acquainted.’
‘Worked a few cases over the years.’ Lennox looked back and forth between them. ‘How do you know each other?’
Cullen dodged his gaze. I just know her in the biblical sense. ‘We worked for Ally Davenport at St Leonards, back in the good old Lothian and Borders days.’ He looked at her, losing count of how many times he’d blushed that day, his skin burning under his collar like sunburn.
Yvonne returned his look, deadpan. Just stared at him like she was wondering whether to be amused or insulted by his denial of just how well they’d known each other back then, at least for one night. A cheeky glint lit up her eyes. ‘This guy is so much fun on nights out.’ She winked at Lennox. ‘Scott used to be quite the party animal.’
‘Bloody roasting in here.’ Cullen stuck a hand under his collar and loosened it, pretending to peer at the nearest radiator. ‘Must be spending half the Police Scotland budget on heating this place. Lunch’ll be a deep-fried Mars bar and a cup of tea.’
‘Oh, I quite like it.’ Yvonne shrugged. ‘The temperature in here, I mean. But you know how hot I like it.’
Cullen did his best to focus his attention on Lennox, who was looking like he’d walked into a porn shoot. ‘Turns out, Yvonne and I used to keep emailing facilities – me getting them to turn it down, her to turn it on.’ Another blush flared on his neck. ‘I mean up.’
‘Right.’
Cullen cleared his throat. Really need a glass of water. To pour over my head. ‘So, how do the two of you know each other?’
‘He’s my boss.’
‘Been working together over a year now.’ Lennox glanced at Yvonne. ‘Yvonne was one of my DCs, but I supported her through the promotion to DS just last month after I kicked out a useless old bastard.’ He coughed. ‘I mean, after I lost a long-serving officer to retirement.’
‘Congratulations, Yvonne.’ Cullen looked at a spot on the wall, just over her left shoulder. ‘Well deserved, I’m sure.’
‘Thanks, Scott. The same to you. I heard you made DS. And apparently you also made a clean break with your cowboy ways. That true?’
‘Aye, well, I’m trying. The case I’m—’
His phone rang.
He reached for his pocket, pulled the blaring thing out and glanced at it. Wilkinson.
Shite, what does he want?
‘Sorry, I need to take this.’ With a few quick steps he was out of the room, and out of ear shot. ‘What’s up?’
Wilkinson’s voice was a barely restrained shout. ‘Bloody spanner in the works at Vardy’s trial. Amy Forrest didn’t turn up.’
12
Cullen took the turn into Dumbiedykes at fifty miles per hour.
SHITE!
He
hit the brake, putting his entire weight on the pedal as the anti-lock system kicked in, the tyres squealing until the car shuddered to a stop.
The football bounced past the bumper by no more than a foot, followed by two primary-school kids in red-and-grey uniforms, slamming their hands on the bonnet and squealing with laughter as they raced after the ball.
Cullen sat there, their little voices echoing in his ears, his white knuckles trembling on the wheel. He shook his head and took a deep breath, then shifted down to first and trundled over to the kerb.
Cullen walked down the tower block’s corridor on Amy’s floor, out of breath but back in control. Until he saw Wilko’s face.
The DI was waiting for him outside Amy’s flat with pale lips and genuine concern in his wide eyes. ‘Cullen, the flat’s empty. No sign of her or the baby.’
‘Have you checked with the neighbours?’
‘I’ve been knocking on doors and talking to folks since I called you.’ Wilkinson looked up and down the hallway, desperate for a new avenue to explore. He cleared his throat. ‘No one’s seen her or the little guy in days.’
‘Shite. Me and Si Buxton were in there this morning.’
‘Did you bloody scare her off?’
‘We were trying to support her.’ Cullen pulled his mobile from his pocket. ‘Does Lamb know?’
‘Lamb’s teaching at Tulliallan.’
‘I was just there.’
‘This is my case as well. If anyone’s calling him, it’s me.’
‘So what do you want me to do?’
‘While my team’s questioning her known associates, I need you to talk to the women who worked with Amy before she had the kid.’
‘But they won’t—’
‘I know. I’m thinking they’ll be too terrified to talk to us in case Vardy finds out. So, while you can open the door, I’m teaming you up with someone who’s good at interviewing trauma victims and—’ Wilkinson stared over Cullen’s shoulder. ‘Ah, here we go.’