by Tana Collins
There was a moment’s silence until Fletcher broke it. ‘The community meeting,’ she said. ‘I appealed for information at the meeting about the development. There were about fifty people in that room. I gave out my telephone number and told them which station I was attached to.’
Carruthers scratched his chin. ‘So in all likelihood, it’s someone who attended the meeting.’
‘And before you ask,’ said Fletcher, ‘there was no signing-in book so no record of who attended.’
‘Pity,’ said Carruthers. ‘OK, we need someone to go to Angus Dawson’s house. Take it apart. See if we can find the evidence he said he had, unless, of course it was with him when he was killed.’
‘We’ll go, boss,’ said Watson, pointing to herself and Fletcher. ‘We’ll head over there after this meeting.’
Carruthers nodded. He privately thought it a good opportunity for them to spend some time together. ‘OK, great, but Andie, only if you’re up to it. Gayle, what have you got?’ he asked.
‘The two men, Fraser and Noble, would have definitely known each other at Braidwood. More than that, we’ve found out they’d been in contact with each other recently. That disconnected mobile phone number on Fraser’s statement belonged to Noble.’
Carruthers scratched the stubble on his chin again. Again, the partying in Reykjavik had kept him awake till the early hours and he hadn’t woken almost until check-in time. In his haste to catch his flight he hadn’t had a chance to shave.
‘Even though Agnes Noble told us she’d never heard of a Ruiridh Fraser, it proves the two men clearly knew each other,’ continued Watson.
‘OK, but we’ve got no evidence Noble was part of a paedophile ring,’ said Carruthers. ‘He doesn’t appear on Paul’s list. And his wife was horrified when she thought we were accusing him of being a kiddy fiddler. However, we’ve got to remember she wasn’t married to him in the 1970s. She’s his second wife. And, let’s face it, she didn’t know about his connection with Fraser.’
‘You’ve got to wonder how much she knew her husband at all,’ said Watson.
‘And how much she wanted to know,’ chipped in Fletcher.
‘Yeah, but not every husband and wife tell each other everything. Some are barely on speaking terms,’ said Brown.
‘So you didnae ken that I’ve been shagging yer wife then, eh Brownie?’ said Harris.
‘Yer welcome to her. She’s been frigid for years.’
‘Christ, will you two shut it,’ said Carruthers. ‘We’ve taken Noble’s computer away for analysis. We’ve got the IT boys working on it now. John’s back from leave. So perhaps that’ll tell us something.’
‘We’ve had a look at Fraser’s phone statements going back over five years and Noble’s mobile number only appears on it within the last few months so it looks as if contact has only been recently established. Why?’ asked Fletcher.
‘Well, something’s been going on. According to Agnes Noble her husband was becoming increasingly bad tempered and edgy. His change in mood seems to have started around the time of his renewed contact with Fraser,’ said Watson.
Carruthers cleared his throat. ‘OK, let’s have a look at suspects for a moment. The obvious one is Paul Fraser. According to him, he was away with his girlfriend and her parents in a hotel in north east Iceland. Speaking to the reception staff at the hotel he was there in person to check in and was definitely present to check out. Paid by credit card.’
‘What about the two days during the trip?’ asked Brown.
‘In terms of flights from Iceland I don’t think there’s any way he could have conceivably done it. Not in those two days,’ said Carruthers.
‘No chance he could have got a ferry?’ Fletcher asked.
‘I don’t think so. I still want us to contact the UK Border Agency, also check with the airlines and ferry companies – anyone else who might have an official record of his comings and goings. If the trip was a prepared alibi he would’ve taken steps to ensure the alibi was backed up. Gayle? Can I put you on to that?’
Watson nodded.
‘Let’s turn our attention to the Hunters,’ continued Carruthers. ‘The kid, Jordan Hunter, was on a school trip at the time of Fraser’s murder. That checks out. However, I want us to focus our attention on the father, Malcolm Hunter. What do we actually know about him?’
‘Works in the pharma industry,’ said Fletcher, referring to her notes. ‘Travels away a lot. Wife and two kids. Over-protective of his son. If Ruiridh Fraser was making advances towards Jordan it certainly gives Hunter Senior a motive for disliking him. But murder? That’s a hell of a leap.’
‘He’s got a temper on him,’ said Carruthers.
‘So do a lot of people,’ said Watson. ‘But it doesn’t mean he’s capable of murder.’
‘I reckon most people are capable of murder given the right incentive,’ said Fletcher.
‘What’s Malcolm Hunter’s alibi, Andie?’ asked Carruthers.
‘Away with work. We’re checking the details.’
At that moment the door to the incident room opened behind Carruthers and a man in his late twenties with a receding hairline and glasses popped his head round.
‘Boss, it’s Speccie Techie,’ said Harris, referring to their resident IT expert, John Forrest.
Carruthers swivelled round. Catching his eye, Carruthers followed him out of the room calling over his shoulder as he did, ‘Won’t be a minute.’ He shut the door behind him.
Carruthers leant in close to John. ‘Be quick. What have you got for us?’
‘You’re not gonna like it. Kiddy porn. Hundreds of images. Present day but there’s also some photos going back to the 1960s and seventies by the look of the collars and haircuts. All boys. Age range seven through to about sixteen.’
‘Christ almighty.’ Carruthers scratched his frowning forehead. ‘Good work. Can you get a print-out for us of any of the boys going back to the seventies? We only need to see their faces. Oh, and any of the most recent images, too.’
‘It’s gonna take some time. Like I said, there’s hundreds of images on that computer.’
‘Work as fast as you can.’
Carruthers re-entered the incident room to be greeted by a fug of stale warm air. Tension stretched like an elastic band.
‘We’ve got it. Kiddy porn’s just been found on Noble’s computer. John thinks some of it dates back to the 1970s. What we need is to try to find a list of all the boys who passed through Braidwood during that time. There’s got to be one somewhere. We also need to try to trace them all.’
‘Christ, that’ll take fucking weeks,’ said Harris.
‘We don’t have weeks, Dougie.’
Fletcher shook her head. ‘When I spoke with Sarah she wasn’t confident any such list exists. There certainly wasn’t in the boxes I found the photographs in.’
‘There must have been a list at one time,’ said Carruthers. ‘It’s got to have been kept in a log book or file.’
‘Perhaps it’s been destroyed,’ said Fletcher.
‘Do you reckon the murderer could be one of the abused kids?’ asked Brown.
‘It would make sense if he was,’ said Fletcher. ‘What better motive for murder than abuse?’ She paused. ‘But then if the hit-and-run was no accident, why would a victim of abuse be wanting to keep the story from seeing the light of day?’
‘Unless we’re dealing with two murderers,’ said Carruthers, slowly. ‘Two murderers with two opposite motives.’
‘The first killer has revenge as the motive, the second maybe self-preservation,’ said Fletcher. ‘Christ, you might be right.’
‘Look, it’s just an idea I’m floating about,’ said Carruthers. ‘We need to keep an open mind.’
‘Why now, though?’ Harris asked. ‘If it is an abused kid seeking revenge, and I wouldnae blame the wee bugger, why now? Why wait over forty years?’
‘That’s a good question; and that’s what we need to find out. We also need a list of everyone wh
o worked at Braidwood, right down to the ground staff.’ Harris groaned. ‘I also want the names of any other reporters working on the original story until it got axed, and the names of any of the cops involved in the original investigation. Dougie, I want you to check for a PC McBride connected to the Fife Constabulary mid-seventies. The likelihood is that it was Superintendent Marshall who axed the investigation, but there would have been other, more junior cops involved in the information gathering. We already know McBride was one of them. Let’s find out who’s still alive and take it from there.’
‘Boss, I think it might be worth our while to bring in a psychologist,’ said Fletcher. ‘You know, find out a bit more about the long-term effects of child abuse on the adult. It’s not a subject any of us are experts in.’
‘A psychologist?’ said Harris. ‘Ye dinnae half talk a load of shite. What the fuck do we need a psychologist for? We already ken that anybody who’s been abused as a bairn is gonna be screwed in the heid. Dinnae need a psychologist to tell us that.’
‘Why not?’ said Carruthers. ‘Can’t hurt. Get it set up, will you Andie? I’ll square it with Bingham.’ He sounded more confident than he was. In light of the recent changes within the Scottish police he knew budget restrictions were even tighter. However, he also knew he could be persuasive when he wanted to be.
Harris snorted and turned his head away in disgust. ‘Waste of fucking time,’ he said under his breath.
Carruthers watched Fletcher catch Watson’s eye. They exchanged a smile. Carruthers felt relieved. Fletcher was clearly thawing towards Watson.
‘Right, that’s it. Brief over. I’ll be in my office.’
‘Jim,’ said Fletcher putting her head round a few minutes later. Carruthers looked up, taking in Fletcher’s pale face and dark shadows. ‘Is it OK if I leave early today? I need to get home?’
‘Feeling OK?’
‘Yes, nothing like that. I have a locksmith coming round. That’s all.’
Carruthers felt a knot of tension in his stomach. ‘Mark’s not causing any trouble, is he?’
‘Nothing I can’t handle. Actually, he was waiting for me when I got back from yours the other night. I never had a chance to say.’
‘Oh, Andie.’
‘It’s OK. Just made me realise what a plank he is, and that I’m better off without him.’
Carruthers didn’t say anything but he took in the too-bright eyes and downcast mouth.
‘What time you thinking of heading off?’
‘I’ll probably leave straight from Dawson’s. Just before 5pm if that’s OK? I’ll set up the meeting with the psychologist first. That’s the other reason I wanted to see you. Will you be available tomorrow if I can get it organised?’
His desk phone started to ring. ‘You might have to handle it yourself. Depends what comes in.’
‘I’ll ring you later,’ she said and shut the door as Carruthers leaned over a pile of paperwork to try to find his phone.
Watson and Fletcher stepped through the splintered door in to the hall. A painting was hanging at a precarious angle, the coat stand overturned. The doors to both bedroom and living room thrown wide open.
‘Jesus. I’ll call this in,’ said Watson pulling her mobile from her jacket pocket treading between coats. ‘I’ll take the bedroom,’ Watson said to Fletcher.
‘Be careful, in case whoever’s done this is still here,’ said Fletcher.
Fletcher entered the living room, taking in the books and paperwork that were wantonly strewn over every inch of the carpet. Her eyes travelled to the now empty bookshelf. Whoever had ransacked the place had pulled every single book out. Everything was covered in a fine film of white feathers. She stared at the three-seated grey sofa, which had three long gashes in its cushions. Someone had similarly taken a knife to the matching armchair whose cushion was lying at an angle half on and half off the chair. Its foam interior was heaped in piles like guts next to it. But when Fletcher saw the fireplace her heart almost stopped. The living flame gas fire had been dismantled. Coal by coal.
She retreated from the living room, meeting Watson in the hall. ‘Bedroom’s a mess,’ Watson said.
‘Same with the living room. Even taken the gas fire apart.’ They both moved up the staircase to the upper rooms. A second bedroom and bathroom were on the upper floor. Both ransacked.
‘Whoever’s been here has long since gone,’ said Fletcher.
Watson turned to her. ‘Aye, but did they find what they were looking for?’
‘Boyfriend trouble?’
Fletcher remained silent.
‘It usually is,’ said the dark-haired locksmith.
Fletcher couldn’t help but smile. ‘You an expert on relationships then?’
‘Me? Nah.’ He turned back to the door, tools in hand. ‘You’d be surprised how many call-outs I get after a break-up, though. Relationships can be messy. Don’t tend to have them myself.’
‘Well, I think I’ll steer clear myself for a while.’
‘Got a broken heart on my hands, have I?’ He turned round, giving her a sympathetic smile. ‘Rule number one. Never give them a key. As soon as they’re given a key, they get their feet under the table.’
‘You the love ’em and leave ’em type, then?’ asked Fletcher, warming to the easy banter between them.
‘Been known to break a few hearts in my time.’ He looked slyly at her. ‘Doubt I’m the only one though.’
Fletcher watched him working on the door. ‘Do you want a cup of tea, or something?’ she asked.
The locksmith turned round. ‘Whoever he was, he’s made you miserable. Plain to a blind man. You look like you’ve got the weight of the world on your shoulders. Christ, you should have some fun. What are you? Mid-twenties?’
‘Early thirties.’
‘You don’t look it. You’re young enough to make a few mistakes and still be able to start again. I envy you that. Gorgeous girl like you … he must need his head read. If you’re making a cup of tea, I’ll take mine with milk and two sugars. By the way, I couldn’t help but notice, you’ve had a nasty accident.’ He motioned towards her head.’
‘Accident at work.’
‘Shit. I’d take them for all they’ve got if I were you.’
‘Not as easy as that in my place of work.’ She smiled and walked away from the front door towards the kitchen. ‘Won’t be a minute.’
She was standing by the window dunking her tea bag in her mug of hot water when he walked in to her kitchen. Fletcher couldn’t help but notice the man’s bottom encased as it was in his overalls. In fact she couldn’t help but notice his whole torso was rather appealing.
‘Hope I didn’t offend you earlier. I was just teasing.’ Giving her back the empty mug he threw her an easy smile. ‘Right, that’s me away, hen.’
‘Already?’
‘Aye, that’s you. Safe and secure. No need to thank me. It’s my job.’ He turned and smiled at her again.
The locksmith caught Fletcher staring out of the window and came and stood behind her.
‘Reckon there’s more snow on the way,’ he said. He was standing close enough that she could feel his hot breath on her neck. She felt a shiver of excitement at being this physically close to an attractive man who wasn’t Mark.
‘D’you reckon?’ she said turning round.
He wasn’t tall but he was broad shouldered. His short dark hair was thick and wiry and she was close enough to smell the lingering effects of his aftershave. She felt a rather surprising pull in her groin.
She watched his wide mobile mouth as he spoke. Every so often her eyes would stray to his. They were sea green.
‘Is there anywhere I can wash my hands? That was my last job of the day.’
She felt a sudden pang that she would be spending her evening on her own. Suddenly she wanted company.
‘Do you want to stay for a drink? asked Fletcher. ‘I’ve got beer, wine.’
‘A beer would be good, thanks.’
She pulled open the fridge door. Grasped a beer.
‘Now all we need is a bottle opener,’ she said.
‘You were going to show me where I can wash my hands? Or you can show me the way to the bedroom if you like? I’ll wash my hands first though.’ He leant in and gently kissed her on the lips. She didn’t pull back but nor did she respond. Her heart was hammering in her chest. Just as she was trying to decide what to do, he took the beer out of her hands. Set it down on the kitchen table. Putting both hands on her shoulders, he drew her closer to him then kissed her again but this time deeper. She found herself responding in a way she hadn’t responded to a kiss in a very long time. She led him to the foot of the stairs. ‘Bathroom’s top of the stairs first left.’
His eyes locked on hers. He stroked her cheek setting all her nerve ends on fire. ‘And bedroom?’ he asked.
‘Next door.’
Fletcher lay back in the crumpled bed sheets. A lazy hand trailed a finger between her breasts and down to her stomach. His warm palm rested there and she could feel the heat from it permeating her still glistening skin.
‘You’re beautiful, do you know that?’ he said, taking a strand of her dark hair and winding it round his calloused finger. She couldn’t remember when Mark had last told her she was beautiful. He inched towards her and angled his lean body so it was touching hers. She smelt his sweat and aftershave and found the combination a powerful turn on. He kissed her nipple and tugged on it as he took it in his mouth. All the while his right hand cupped the other breast. She arched her body and he moved on top of her. There was a sudden noise as hailstones pelted the bedroom window.
10
‘Thanks very much for making time to meet with us at such short notice. I’m DI Jim Carruthers and this is DS Andie Fletcher.’
‘You’re welcome.’ The man had to stoop when he walked into Carruthers’ office. ‘Dr Greg Ross.’ he said, shaking hands with them both, his appreciative gaze lingering on Fletcher just a little too long. ‘I believe you knew my predecessor, Amy Toye? I understand you’re investigating child abuse in a children’s home in the 1970s?’