Snared

by Ed James

  “You could bring her, if you want.”

  “Two kids under the age of ten isn’t going to be a great idea.”

  “Agreed.”

  Vicky glanced at the clock. 12.03. “I need to get some sleep.”

  “Okay.” Robert got up. He slid his boxers on, then the first leg of his trousers, hopping as he put the second one on. He was much more athletic than she’d initially thought — his abs were tight, his shoulders firm.

  Vicky looked down at her stomach spilling out of the gown. Not so good.

  “Well, that’s me.” Robert put his shirt on, pulled his belt tight. “I take it you want me to slip out like a thief in the night?”

  “You can tell you’re a nineties boy.”

  “Eh? That’s a Rolling Stones song.”

  “I thought it was Take That.”

  “All this talk of grunge is just a cover, isn’t it? You’re really a pop girl.”

  “No comment.” Vicky led him downstairs, creeping so as not to wake Bella. She leaned against the open door. Tinkle milled around her ankles, rubbing hard.

  Robert kissed her on the lips. “I like you, Vicky.”

  “Okay.” Vicky pecked him back on the cheek. “See you tonight, okay?”

  “Looking forward to it.” He patted her arm and walked off into the night.

  She watched him go, her heart jolting. That night, she’d be in his house, eating with his son, digging a deeper hole for herself. He seemed to have his heart in the right place, but was it?

  Did she even like him?

  Thursday

  3rd April 2014

  Chapter Eighty-Eight

  The clock radio blared out REM’s Shiny Happy People.

  Vicky slammed her hand down on it, her boob falling free with the movement. She looked down, wondering where her vest top was. She was naked.

  Robert.

  She turned back over. What the hell was she doing?

  The clock radio read 7.02. Her mobile lay beside it.

  She spotted her dressing gown on the floor. She reached down to get it, tugged it on then sat up, trying to clear her head.

  “Mummy!”

  Vicky reached out to grab Bella as she jumped on the bed. “Somebody’s full of beans today.”

  “Had good sleeps, Mummy. Can I catch baddies with you today?”

  “Maybe.” Vicky’s phone buzzed on the table. She reached over and picked it up. Forrester. Bella hugged her tight. She put the phone to her ear. “Hello?”

  “Vicky, thank God. All hell’s broken loose here. Raven’s got us in a ‘power breakfast’, would you believe? Mac and I can contain it but I need you to get out to the Fixit DIY store on the Kingsway.”

  Vicky jolted awake, nudging Bella to the side. “What’s happened?”

  “The store manager’s been found outside.”

  “Is he dead?”

  “No idea. Just get there as soon as you can.”

  Chapter Eighty-Nine

  Hungry, Mummy!” Bella bounced in the back, her car seat rattling. “My wee tummy’s empty!”

  Vicky turned to grin at her daughter. “Come on, let’s get you round to Granny’s.”

  She pulled off and turned right onto Barry Road, drove down the long straight against the flow of traffic, listening to Bella singing. She wound through the corner bend then drove up past her first police station, now closed to the public. Bella stopped singing.

  As she turned into Bruce Drive, Bella punched the door beside her. “Where’s my daddy?”

  Vicky turned around to see another tantrum forming, Bella’s face twisted, her eyes narrow slits. “What do you mean, Bella?”

  “I want my daddy!”

  Vicky turned left towards her parents’ house then sped on down the street, angling her rearview to keep an eye on her. “Bella, you don’t have a daddy. It’s just you, me and Tinkle. And Granny and Grandad.”

  “I want my daddy!” Bella punched her fist against the door again. “I want my daddy!”

  Vicky parked outside her old house. She got out and pulled Bella out of the car, hugging her tight, and kissed her forehead. “It’s okay, baby.”

  “Why do I not have a daddy?”

  “You’re a special girl, Bells.”

  “Catriona said everyone has a daddy.”

  Vicky pulled her tighter. “Well, Bella, you don’t have a daddy, okay? You’re a very special girl, Bells. Bells and whistles. Remember?”

  “Why don’t I have a daddy?”

  “You just don’t. Not everyone has to have a daddy.” Vicky stood there for a few seconds, smelling Bella’s clean hair. “Shall we get Granny to fill up your wee tummy?”

  “Okay.”

  Vicky walked up the drive and knocked on the front door.

  Mum came out in her dressing gown, milky eyes squinting into the light. “Is that you, Victoria?”

  “Sorry, Mum. I need to get in to work early.”

  Mum shook her head as she laughed. “Just like your father . . .” She helped Bella up the steps. “How’s my wee girl?”

  “My wee tummy’s empty, Granny.”

  “Well go inside, Bella. Grandad’s just making some porridge.”

  “Yay!” Bella skipped past her into the dark house.

  Vicky let out a breath. “I’m giving you a tantrum warning today.”

  “Is it her daddy again?”

  “It is.”

  Mum shrugged. “You’ve made your bed, Victoria. I’ll follow the party line but you know how I feel about it.”

  Vicky bit her lip. “Can Bella stay here tonight?”

  “What’s the occasion?”

  “I’ve got a date.”

  “Same man as last night?”

  “Yes.”

  “Of course she can stay.” Mum looked to the heavens, her eyes losing their milkiness. “Thank God.”

  “Mum, I’m not even sure God can help sort out my love life.”

  Chapter Ninety

  Vicky pulled into the car park at the Fixit DIY store. She parked by a police car just by the entrance — its blue lights were still flashing. She sat there, thankful she’d only got through one bottle with Robert. She got out and crossed the car park.

  Colin Woods snipped the end of the crime tape as she approached. “This is getting beyond the joke, Vicks.”

  “I’m not that late. I think I broke most of the speed limits on the way here.”

  “No, I meant you and me being at the same crime scene again.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Woods frowned as he inspected her. “You look a bit different today.”

  Vicky blushed. “Just tired.” She nodded at the building. “Do you want to get me up to speed?”

  “I just came on my shift when we got the call-out.” Woods waved behind the tape. “The store manager was chained to the front of the shop. Some boy at the Asda round the back spotted him. I’ve sent him on his way but I’ll follow up with him later just to make sure there’s no funny business.”

  “What about the manager?”

  “Poor boy’s naked and it was a cold night. Some doctor from Ninewells is with him.”

  “He’s still alive?”

  “Of course he is.” Woods laughed. “Christ, Vicks, do you think it’d just be you on your lonesome if there was a body? This place would be swarming with C&A suits if it was a murder.”

  “What was he tied up with?”

  “The chains that bird gadgie uses. Soutar’s just freeing him now.”

  Vicky put a hand on her hip, trying to focus. “Let’s see him.”

  A four-by-four pulled up alongside them. Willis Stewart got out and ran towards them, eyes bulging. “Where’s Graeme? Is he okay?”

  Woods held him back. “Please, sir, this
is a crime scene. I need you to vacate the area.”

  “Don’t you know who I am?”

  “I don’t, sir. Now, I’m going to need you to calm down.”

  Stewart pushed Woods’ arms away. “I’m the Chief Executive of this company!”

  Woods raised his eyebrows at Vicky. “What do you think?”

  Vicky clenched her fists as she scowled at Stewart. He’d ignored the warning and this is what’d happened. “He needs to stay back here.”

  “But —”

  Vicky put a finger to her lip. “No buts, Mr Stewart. I’ll be back in two minutes to give you an update. Okay?”

  “Very well.”

  “Do I need to suit up, Colin?”

  “Should be okay, Vicks. It’s been raining since we got here.”

  Vicky pushed through the tape to inspect the locus.

  PC Soutar was slicing at some chains with a hacksaw, torn Fixit packaging at his feet.

  Vicky picked up the bag. “Did you get this from inside?”

  Soutar nodded. “Aye, the shop was open. Found the keys by the door.”

  Dr Rankine was kneeling beside Graeme Christie, the store manager, who was shaking as he lay there. She got to her feet and nodded at Vicky. “Good morning, Sergeant.”

  “What’s good about it?”

  “Well, at least you’re not tied up naked.”

  “Chance would be a fine thing.”

  Rankine smiled before a glance at Christie wiped it from her face. “Poor man’s in a terrible state.”

  “How is he?”

  “Not good. It was four degrees last night with no cloud cover until the rain started just after six. He’s suffering from mild hypothermia. I need to get him inside once he’s free.”

  Vicky snapped her fingers at Rankine. “Come with me.” She jogged over to where Stewart was still hassling Woods. “Will the store office be warm?”

  “Should be.” Stewart frowned, eyes still on Woods. “Why?”

  “I need to get Mr Christie inside.”

  “Why?”

  Rankine folded her arms. “To help with his passive external rewarming.”

  “What’s that?”

  “Do you need to know?”

  “Yes. It’s my shop.”

  Rankine rolled her eyes. “To help his body generate its own heat. I’ve got some special clothes in my car that’ll help. We need to get him somewhere warm. He might die if we don’t. An ambulance will be too long.”

  Stewart nodded. “The office has a heater.” He opened the front door to the shop and entered. “I’ll just get it fired up.”

  Vicky glanced at Rankine. “That man will be the death of me.”

  “Just make sure he’s not the death of Mr Christie.” Rankine patted Vicky on the arm. “Back in a sec. Can you get him inside?”

  “Will do.” Vicky looked back the way they’d come.

  Woods and Soutar half-carried Christie over, his shaking arms draped round their shoulders. Christie was naked except for his underpants.

  “Follow me.” Vicky led them inside, following the trail of lights triggered by Stewart’s tramp to the far end of the store. She spotted him by a door, putting his keys back in his pocket, and jogged up to meet him.

  Stewart thrust out his chest, clearly pleased with himself. “I’ve got the fire on full blast in there.”

  “Good.” Vicky led him through the door. The room was tiny, with only four desks, green-screen terminals perched on top.

  Woods and Soutar helped Christie through the door. His body was shaking hard, his teeth chattering together. They put him on a seat.

  Rankine appeared, clutching a shell suit, and began to help Christie into it.

  Vicky looked around for something to do. She shut the door before wheeling the fire over. “Will I be able to ask him some questions?”

  Rankine zipped up the front of the jacket and fastened the Velcro. “You can. He’s out of the woods now, I think.”

  Vicky knelt in front of Christie. “I’m going to need to ask you some questions, okay?”

  Christie nodded through his shivering. “Th-th-th-that’s f-f-f-fine.”

  “Mr Christie. What’s the last thing you remember?”

  “L-l-l-locking up.”

  “What time was this?”

  “E-e-eight. J-j-j-just affffffffter.”

  “What happened?”

  Christie struggled for breath. “H-h-h-hit on head.”

  Rankine started rubbing his shoulders through the fabric. She raised her eyebrows.

  Vicky ignored her. “Did you see who attacked you?”

  “M-m-m-m-m-man.”

  “Was he tall?”

  Christie nodded.

  “What was he wearing?”

  “B-b-b-b-b-b-balac-c-c-c-c-clava.”

  “Was there anyone else?”

  Christie hugged his body tighter as he shook his head.

  Vicky exhaled slowly. “Thanks. My colleagues will take a full statement from you later.”

  Christie gave a slight nod.

  Vicky looked at Rankine. “There’s an ambulance on its way to take you to hospital.” She joined Stewart by the window.

  He avoided her gaze. “How’s he doing?”

  “He’s not going to die, Mr Stewart.”

  “That’s good.”

  “That’s lucky.”

  “I’ve told you bef —”

  “Is there active CCTV here?”

  Stewart pinched the point of his chin. “There’s a camera round the back. The one at the front is out of action.”

  Vicky rubbed her forehead. “Is this public knowledge?”

  “Shouldn’t be.”

  “You’re very lucky he’s still alive. You know that, right?”

  “I’m very lucky my shop hasn’t been raided.” Stewart avoided her look as he held up a letter, his hand shaking. “I just found this.”

  Vicky snatched it off him. “Listen to us. Lose the birds, set them free. Otherwise we’re not responsible for what we do next. You’ve got till lunchtime. You’ve seen what we can do.” She scowled at Stewart. “I normally hate to say I told you so.”

  “Your Assistant Chief Constable told me so as well. I’ve told you before — I refuse to negotiate with these people.”

  “You need to get rid of the birds.”

  “I refuse to do anything of the sort.”

  “This is your fault, Mr Stewart.” Vicky got in his face.

  Stewart stared her down. “The birds stay.”

  Chapter Ninety-One

  Forrester held the station’s front door open for Vicky. “Raven’s having just the one briefing today — wants to get us all together. He’s worried about what’s happening here.”

  Vicky entered through the security door and started off along the corridor. “So why was it just me at the DIY store?”

  “I told you, all hell was breaking loose.”

  “That sounds like someone forgot to order paperclips.”

  “It was bulldog clips, if you must know.” Forrester exhaled. “The Chief Constable was after an update so we had to run around pulling it together. I try to keep you away from all that nonsense, Vicky.”

  “I appreciate it, sir. Was it anything to do with Fergus Duncan calling him?”

  “Probably.”

  Vicky followed him into the incident room, which was packed with the officers from both teams. She spotted reps from Scenes of Crime and the various forensic analysis teams, including Zoë.

  Her mobile chirruped in her bag. She retrieved it and set it to mute. A text from Robert — Hd nice n8. R She put it back, deciding texting wasn’t one of Robert’s skills.

  Raven went to the whiteboard, which was neater than Forrester’s. “Good morning all.
I want to thank you for attending so promptly. Format for today is as follows. Keith and DS Laing will give an overview of where we’ve got to with the murder case, before handing over to David and DS Dodds for an update on where they’re at with their cases. Finally, I’ll ask DS MacDonald to update on his work linking the cases together.”

  “Cheers, boss.” Greig leaned against the pillar nearest the whiteboard. “This is in no particular order. As ever, stop me if you’ve got any questions. First, the post mortem of Michael Scott has confirmed he died from a heart attack, most likely from the running he’d been doing on his treadmill. Time of death was between nine p.m. and ten p.m. on Tuesday night. Now, this is where it gets interesting.”

  He picked up a sheet of paper and read from it. “This is from the draft report. ‘The muscle spasms present on the subject’s back indicate the use of a Taser in Drive Stun mode, applied with some force.’ For those of you who don’t know — and I didn’t until twenty minutes ago — that means the Taser is used without the cartridge being present and the electrodes therefore don’t fire. Apparently, it’s just like a cattle prod. What appears to have happened is it was held up to the body and repeatedly sparked. We can therefore deduce that Mr Scott had been running under some duress, to the point where he suffered a coronary.”

  MacDonald held up his hand. “So it’s linked to our cases?”

  Greig frowned. “Why would that be?”

  “Our first case involved a Taser in Drive Stun mode.”

  Greig glanced at Raven. “We’ll need to review that.”

  “We’ll cover that in Mac’s update, okay?” Raven clapped his hands together. “I was fairly clear in the steer I gave yesterday — separate until proven otherwise. We’ve no solid proof to the contrary yet. On you go, Keith.”

  “Right.” Greig cast the sheet of paper aside. “Next is the street investigation in Montrose. Given where Mr Scott’s house is located, the information received has been somewhat sketchy so far.”

  MacDonald raised his hand again. “I investigated a potential sighting yesterday. Have you found her?”

  “Listen, the information we received was ambiguous at best. There’s not a lot to go on here.”

  MacDonald crumpled his coffee cup. “Right.”