‘That’s really encouraging,’ said Father Murray. ‘It’ll take time. Laura will relent, I’m sure.’
‘I hope you’re right. It’s killing me. I hope he doesn’t hear about her and Byers before he’s strong enough to withstand it. I fear that knowledge could snap his mind forever.’
‘And what about you, Farrell? Still having a time out from God?’
‘The anger is fading, I suppose. I don’t have the energy for it. My faith has taken a battering.’
‘Take your time,’ said Father Murray, leaning over to clasp his hand. ‘You’ll find your way back to us. I’m sure of it.’
Chapter 70
Peter Swift sat across the table from Farrell and Mhairi in the small interview room. He looked tired but hadn’t bitched about having to come in and talk to them, for which Farrell was grateful. After all, they were nominally at least on the same side here. Nonetheless it was going to be a tricky interview. It was his fiancée they were here to discuss after all.
After they’d identified themselves for the purposes of the tape, Farrell took the lead.
‘Thank you for coming in to help us with our enquiries, Peter. We appreciate that this is difficult for you.’
‘I’m always happy to help the police in any way that I can.’
‘We appreciate that,’ said Mhairi, smiling to put him at ease.
‘Has your fiancée, Beth Roberts, shared with you what allegedly happened to her at the hand of Sheriff Robert Granger?’
Peter Swift’s mouth tightened into a thin line.
‘Yes, she told me what that bastard did … I couldn’t believe it.’
‘When exactly did she tell you?’ asked Farrell.
‘Not until after he’d been murdered. I think if I’d found out before, I might have been tempted to take him out myself. I’d heard the rumours, of course, we all had. I never imagined he’d go as far as that, though.’
‘How did it make you feel?’ asked Mhairi, keeping a close eye on his reactions.
‘Honestly? Absolutely fucking furious. You have no idea,’ he added quietly but with an unmistakable note of sincerity.
‘Were you angry that she hadn’t let on to you before?’ asked Mhairi.
‘No, of course not! She was terrified. He bullied her till it was all she could do to force herself into work each morning. It was painful to watch. But she was determined not to let him get the better of her.’
‘Did you ever try and have a word with him? Ask him to stop tormenting her?’ asked Farrell.
‘I would have done but I knew it would have only made him worse.’
‘I’ve watched you in court,’ said Farrell. ‘He didn’t seem to rattle you or the other guys so much?’
Swift gave a mirthless laugh.
‘We’re the last ones standing. He regarded himself as something of an equal opportunities bully. There’s a couple of young male lawyers he’s seen off in the course of the year. One of them has left law altogether.’
‘You know that we detained Beth Roberts for questioning in relation to the sheriff’s murder?’
‘You’re barking up the wrong tree. Beth isn’t a killer.’
‘She has a motive,’ said Farrell.
‘But she wasn’t the only one to have had issues with him. That’s the reason he was punted down here in the first place.’
‘You could have helped her,’ said Farrell.
Swift stiffened. ‘What? You surely don’t think I had anything to do with it, do you?’
‘Well, like Beth, you had means, motive and opportunity,’ said Mhairi.
Swift sighed.
‘Look, I’m a procurator fiscal for God’s sake. Don’t you think you might be clutching at straws here? I get that you have to do your job but … still!’
‘Humour us,’ said Farrell. ‘Where were you between the hours of midnight and 9 a.m. when the body was discovered?’
‘Home with Beth. Neither of us left the house. My fiancée is innocent of any crime here, DI Farrell. She’s a victim. You need to realize that.’
‘That’s all for now. Thank you for your time,’ said Farrell, showing him to the door to be escorted out by PC Joanne Burns.
***
‘What did you think?’ asked Mhairi as they trailed back upstairs.
‘He’s clearly devoted to his fiancée,’ said Farrell. ‘Whether he’d kill for her? I really can’t say. If she did murder Sheriff Granger, I reckon he would cover up for her.’
‘In the circumstances, I could understand that,’ said Mhairi.
‘Unless we can disprove the alibi by finding one or other of them on CCTV or a witness placing them in the vicinity of the court that night, we’re on a hiding to nothing.’
‘God, these cases are doing my head in,’ said Mhairi.
‘Have a lithium,’ said Farrell offering her the packet.
‘Are you crazy? Sorry, don’t answer that,’ snapped Mhairi.
‘I was attempting to lighten the mood,’ said Farrell mildly, returning the packet to his pocket.
‘Epic fail,’ she muttered, hurrying away.
He stared after her. She’d never been this cranky before. It was giving him a headache.
Chapter 71
Mhairi poured herself another coffee. It had been so hot and humid that she’d tossed and turned all night. The black clouds were swollen with unshed rain and the birds were agitated. There was an unnatural hush as though nature was holding its breath waiting for the storm to break. A flash of lightning lit up the sky and she moved away from the window and back to her desk as the first fat drops pelted the window. A crack of thunder ripped the sky above and lights in the MCA room blinked on and off.
She’d been scrolling through Aaron Sullivan’s social media accounts and come up with a big fat zero. There were no messages from Joe Capaldi or Mario Lombardo. He really had very little social media activity for a boy his age. Even with the deleted posts and messages for the past six months that had been retrieved by Tech Support there was nothing helpful at all.
‘Anything?’ asked DC Thomson, looking up.
‘Zilch,’ she sighed.
‘Given his age, he’s more likely to communicate with his mates while playing computer games anyway. Pass his laptop over and I’ll look at what games he was into. Some of them will have message boards. There might be some traffic between him and Barry McLeish.’
‘Thanks, Dave, knock yourself out.’ She passed across the sticker-covered computer, reminding her just how young Aaron had been. She swallowed hard. Getting emotional wouldn’t solve anything.
‘I reckon we’re not going to be able to bring down Mario Lombardo unless we get Joe Capaldi to roll on him,’ she said. ‘He’s the only direct conduit we’ve discovered so far.’
‘Hang on. I’ve just received an email about Joe Capaldi from the Prison Service. Guess who his cellmate was when he did his last stretch?’
‘Spit it out or I’ll come over there and make you.’
‘The mysterious Tony Marino,’ he said.
‘What the hell?’ said Mhairi. ‘Capaldi shared a cell with Tony Marino who was wrongly accused of raping and murdering that girl at Morrington Academy, and then did a disappearing act on his release?’
‘So it would appear.’
‘Have we got a mug shot of Tony Marino?’
‘They sent one across, but it’s old and grainy.’
Mhairi leaned over his shoulder to look at it and felt a jolt of recognition. She peered closer. Surely, it couldn’t be?
‘What? What is it?’ asked DC Thomson.
DS Byers burst through the door, startling them. His eyes alighted on Mhairi.
‘Max Delaney’s kid has been abducted. Drop what you’re doing and come with me. Farrell’s meeting us at the scene. Dave, stay here and man the fort. DI Moore’s on her way to join you.’
Mhairi picked up her jacket and ran out of the room, her heart in her mouth. This was too much. If anything happened to that little girl �
��
‘Where are we headed?’ asked Mhairi as Byers roared out of the car park ahead of the SOCO van and a couple of patrol cars.
‘Some beauty parlour on the edge of town, called The Pink Flamingo,’ replied Byers.
The storm raged unabated as they fought their way through the town traffic, sirens drowning out the thunder and blue lights vying with the lightning flashes to illuminate the slick roads.
They pulled into the business park and skidded to a halt beside Farrell’s Citroen, which had arrived just ahead of them. The Pink Flamingo was as garish as its name suggested. Running inside behind Farrell, they found a distraught Chloe sobbing in reception with make-up sliding down her face. Seeing them she lurched to her feet.
‘Oh thank God, you need to find her!’
The young girls who worked there, clad in their flamingo pink tunics, were clearly out of their depth. A woman introduced herself as the salon owner. DS Byers and PC Joanne Burns quickly noted down their details.
‘Tell us what happened,’ said Farrell, sitting Chloe down and taking charge.
‘Mia was getting the Princess Sparkle makeover. I was having my facial. It was taking a while and Mia was getting restless. One of the therapists came in and offered to take her through to select her princess dress. She seemed so nice and friendly. She worked here. I thought Mia was safe with her. Once I was finished I went to find her but she’d gone. The girl ran off with her,’ she sobbed.
‘Is this true?’ Farrell demanded of the tall, elegant owner.
‘Yes,’ she said quietly, white as a sheet now. ‘The girl’s name is Sharon Clements. Today was her first day in the salon. She came as maternity cover. Here’s her address and references.’
Farrell cast an eye over them. He was certain they were bogus.
‘Did you take these up?’ he asked.
She lowered her eyes.
‘Not yet. We were busy and she was the only applicant. I’m so sorry,’ she whispered, her voice wobbling.
Mhairi gave her a withering look. Sorry didn’t cut it. Not today.
‘What did she look like?’ asked Mhairi.
‘I only saw her briefly,’ said the woman. ‘She would be in her late twenties, I think. Shorter than me, maybe about her height,’ she nodded towards Mhairi. ‘Green eyes, black rimmed glasses and long auburn hair. Very slim. She did seem nervous, but I put that down to it being her first day.’
Farrell turned back to Chloe Delaney who was still weeping into a hankie. ‘Did you come here often?’ he asked. ‘Was it part of your routine?’
‘Every fortnight.’
‘On the same day and at the same time?’ asked Farrell.
‘Yes, it was a standing booking. Mother and Daughter time.’
Mhairi abruptly stood up. She looked about to blow.
‘Take five,’ said Farrell in a tone that brooked no argument. She nodded and walked over to Byers.
Farrell had a sinking feeling. Whoever took Mia had obviously planned this meticulously and been watching her for a while. Now that Max Delaney’s child had been snatched, he knew without a shadow of a doubt that the murders of Gina Campbell and Aaron Sullivan were connected. Little Mia Delaney was clearly in terrible danger. It might already be too late. The killer’s diabolical agenda had been set in motion ten years ago and was heading towards a shattering conclusion. He had to find a way to defeat the killer before it was too late.
Chapter 72
Max Delaney burst through the door.
He saw his wife sitting weeping, but instead of attempting to comfort her, he grabbed her roughly by the arm.
‘You did this. It’s all down to you,’ he shouted. ‘All that painting Mia in make-up and pimping her around on Instagram. Some nutter has her and it’s all your fault!’
His wife became hysterical, clawing at her arms in distress.
Mhairi came running back across to try and defuse the situation.
‘Max, easy there. This isn’t helping. Leave that for later and focus on getting your daughter back,’ she said, looking directly into his eyes.
‘Sorry, you’re right,’ he said, after a moment. ‘What do you need from us?’
Farrell spoke to Chloe Delaney. ‘Have you ever met Beth Roberts before?’
‘Beth? What’s she got to do with this?’ asked Max, confused.
‘Just answer the question.’
‘A few times.’
‘She doesn’t come out with us,’ said Max, ‘bit of a home bird.’
‘How about Jane Pearson? Mrs Delaney. Have you ever met her before?’
‘No, of course not, she’s Fergus’s nanny. She’d be minding the boys.’
Farrell slipped into another room and phoned DC Thomson.
‘I need you to ascertain the present whereabouts of Beth Roberts and Jane Pearson,’ he said. ‘The description given by the witnesses could apply to either woman if they wore glasses, coloured contacts and a wig. Find them and bring them in. I’m not taking any chances.’
‘There’s something else,’ said Thomson.
‘About this abduction?’
‘No.’
‘Then, save it for later. I want every resource looking for this child. All leave is cancelled until further notice.’
‘Got it, boss.’
He stuck his head back inside.
‘Max? Mhairi? a word?’
Once they had joined him he eyeballed Max Delaney.
‘Right, let’s hear it. I know you’ve been hiding something about Jedburgh. You have to tell me right now.’
Max Delaney froze and looked away.
‘I can’t.’
‘You have to,’ snapped Farrell. ‘Your daughter’s life could depend on it.’
‘Fine,’ said Max Delaney in a quiet voice. ‘I’ll tell you.’
‘Go on,’ said Mhairi.
‘I was in love with Colette Currie. I fancied her from the first moment I met her, but she was superglued to Peter Swift. I was driven half mad with jealousy.’
‘When I found out we were all going to be in Jedburgh for a couple of weeks, I thought that was my chance. I sensed she’d been cooling towards Peter.’
‘And?’ prompted Farrell, resisting the urge to hurry him in case he retreated.
‘That last night, I was poised to make my move. We all got bladdered. I went to the toilet and when I came back there she was snogging with Jack Kerr right in front of me.
‘I felt betrayed, as though she’d been mine already. Later, I crept up to the bedroom and could hear them getting down to business. I snuck the door open a crack and then slid my phone round and videoed them.’ He paused and ran a hand through his hair. ‘I sent it to Peter Swift anonymously. I was too ashamed to tell the others. When she died I was devastated that I had sullied her memory for Peter in that way.’
Farrell and Mhairi looked at each other in horror as the pieces clicked in to place.
It was clear to them now that Peter Swift was hell-bent upon the most terrible vengeance and he had persuaded Beth Roberts along for the ride.
Chapter 73
More police cars arrived to deal with witness statements. Farrell, Mhairi and Byers stood to one side. The pressure was on. They had to act fast. There was little doubt that Swift intended to kill this little girl, the culmination of his thirst for revenge.
‘I say we go to their home first,’ said Byers. ‘Even if they’re not there we might find out their intentions.’
‘Agreed,’ said Farrell. ‘Let’s go. ‘We’ll take your car, Byers. I’ll brief DI Moore on the way.’
The three of them ran back to the police car Mhairi and Byers had arrived in. Byers sped off to the address he’d obtained from the fiscal’s office. Peter Swift lived in a cottage out at Amisfield, a small village just a couple of miles from Dumfries.
Farrell contacted DI Moore by radio.
‘We’re on our way to the suspect’s house at Dove Cottage, Amisfield. I need the Firearms Team mobilized to meet us there.’
‘What about the airports, trains, buses and ferries?’ asked Farrell.
‘All notified and on high alert. I was able to get a good clear shot of Mia off Instagram. Both Swift and Roberts have closed down all their social media accounts. Their phones are switched off too, so we can’t ping them for now.’
‘I think that Swift has been planning this for some time,’ said Farrell. ‘Locating them in time isn’t going to be easy.’
Ten minutes later, they arrived outside the cottage, the rain an unrelenting drumbeat against the windscreen. The Firearms Team had beaten them to it and were standing in loose formation behind the highly capable Sergeant Forsyth. There were already a number of uniforms surrounding the property, undeterred by the rain penetrating their defences. Despite the time of day the curtains were drawn on all the windows meaning it was impossible to see what was going on inside.
Farrell leapt from the car with Mhairi and Byers. He pressed the button on his radio.
‘Listen up everyone. We’ve no reason to expect that the suspects are armed but we do know that they are highly dangerous. Proceed with extreme caution. The life of a child is at stake.’
Farrell and Mhairi approached the front door, once the property was surrounded. Farrell rang the bell. Nothing.
‘Police, open up!’ he yelled.
Still no response.
He motioned to the tactical support team to move into position.
‘On my mark,’ he said. ‘Advance.’
There was a loud crash as the front and back doors burst open simultaneously and the officers moved in, with Farrell and Mhairi bringing up the rear.
The cottage was empty.
‘Dammit,’ hissed Farrell in frustration, thumping the kitchen table with his fist.
Avenge the Dead Page 25