‘Any more news, Chris?’
He shook his head.
‘Get off home, then. Back in at eight tomorrow.’
Chris didn’t need to be told twice and headed out of the door, leaving Clare and Benjy alone in the incident room. Clare looked down at the dog and decided he was a good excuse for going home. She picked up her jacket and car keys, called good night to Jim and headed out into the car park. She unlocked the car and Benjy jumped up, perching on the passenger seat.
‘Strictly speaking,’ she told him, ‘you should be restrained.’
His only response was to wag his tail. She smiled at him and pulled out of the car park. It was home time.
Mindful that Benjy would wake as soon as it was light, Clare decided to have an early night. Oddly enough, she was glad to have the little dog for company. She settled him down in the makeshift duvet bed at the top of the stairs and went into her bedroom, climbing straight into bed. But, tired as she was, sleep eluded her. Thoughts ran round her head. She needed a distraction from the Ritchies and their private prosecution. Something more than a double murder investigation. Maybe a visit to one of the estate agents to see what they had? This house in the Canongate side of town was fine for now. But it wasn’t really her style. Maybe she could find an older property. A project. Something to spend her weekends doing up. She had done a few running repairs to her flat in Glasgow.
And then there was all her stuff from Glasgow. Some of it still in boxes. She resolved to start going through her clothes. There were plenty of things she just didn’t wear any more. They could be bagged up and handed in to one of the many charity shops in town. It was time to put down roots and start afresh. Time for a new Clare.
But then fifteen-year-old Francis Ritchie’s face loomed up out of the darkness. Would he be her undoing? She started to work out what age she would be when she was released from prison, assuming she was eligible for parole. Would the sentencing judge be lenient? Take into account her exemplary record? Her commendations? She began to think of all the times she had visited prisons. What would it be like to be on the other side of the locked doors? How would her parents cope with the shame?
Clare must have fallen asleep; she was surprised to hear her alarm going off so soon and fiddled with it but couldn’t make it go off. Then she realised it wasn’t her alarm but her phone ringing. She glanced at the clock, saw that it was just past midnight and her heart sank.
Even before she answered the call, she knew it had happened again. There could be no doubt now. She was hunting a cold-hearted, systematic, serial killer.
Chapter 12
Wednesday, 22nd May
Hepburn Gardens was a leafy, residential street, busy enough by day but pretty much deserted when Clare arrived, save for the emergency vehicles. Their flashing lights flickered off trees and bushes and a lone gull, disorientated by this night-time light, flew languidly overhead. A haar had rolled in from the North Sea making everything damp to the touch.
‘He’s still alive,’ Chris told Clare. ‘Looks pretty bad, though. Legs crushed, unconscious, lost a lot of blood. Sara’s gone in the ambulance with him. Told her to stick to him like glue.’
Even in the darkness, Clare could see the blood loss on the pavement. She pulled on a pair of overshoes and walked gingerly round to a lamp post, bent over with what looked like a bit of dark green paint.
Chris followed her gaze. ‘Yep. It probably saved his life. If he lives. He was lying between the post and that bit of collapsed wall. I’m guessing he realised the car was coming for him and he saw the gap behind the lamp post. Thought it would save him. Looks like he didn’t quite make it. Legs were crushed.’
Clare looked back at the lamp post and shivered as she pictured the scene. ‘Don’t suppose there were any witnesses?’
‘Actually, yes. She’s in there.’ Chris indicated a house, two or three doors down from the collapsed stone wall.
‘Householder?’
‘No. Dog walker. She ran there to get away from the car in case the driver spotted her. Householder was still up, fortunately, and took her and her dog in. She’s still in there, but she’s pretty shaken. The doctor’s with her now.’
‘Okay. You secure this and call in Connor, Steve and Phil. Jim on his way?’
‘Yes. Should be here any time.’
‘DCI Gibson?’
‘Phoned. Keeping him informed. Don’t think he’ll turn out tonight but he’s called a briefing for eight in the morning.’
‘That’s something, at least,’ Clare said. ‘I’ll see if the doctor will let me speak to the witness.’
Sally Knight looked to be in her sixties. She was dressed in grey flannel trousers and a navy body-warmer over a checked shirt. Her face was tear-streaked, pale and drawn, but, in the circumstances, she seemed reasonably calm. The dog, a black Scottish Terrier, straight off a shortbread tin, sat on her lap and she was hugging it close. It gave a low growl as Clare entered and Sally fondled its neck, making reassuring noises. The doctor said Clare could have a brief conversation then he wanted Sally home to bed. Clare thanked him and said they would see her home safely. Having secured a promise from Sally that she would contact her own GP in the morning, he left her in Clare’s hands.
Clare sat down and smiled. ‘Anything you can tell us, Mrs Knight, anything at all, might help us catch the driver of that car.’
Sally brushed back a strand of hair then resumed her hold on the dog. ‘Is he dead? The man he hit?’
‘We don’t know. He was alive when the ambulance left here.’
Sally put her hands over her eyes. ‘It was horrible, so horrible.’
‘When did you first see the car?’
‘I was quite a bit down the road, doing the last dog walk before bed, you know. I saw the car and noticed it was driving slowly. I was behind it, you see. I had just come out of a side road and saw it up ahead. I don’t think the driver knew I was there. Surely, he couldn’t have, or he wouldn’t…’
‘Can you say what kind of car it was?’
‘I think it was a Land Rover. One of the old-fashioned kind. Dark green, I think.’
‘Not a Range Rover? The more modern ones?’
Sally shook her head. ‘No, it was like a farm vehicle.’
Clare noted this down. ‘And did you see the man he hit?’
‘Yes. He was walking along, quite fast. Hands in his pockets. I was dawdling a bit, the dog was sniffing…’
Clare waited.
‘Well, then I noticed the car speeding. I thought the driver must be drunk or had a heart attack, or something. I could see the man, still walking. He was caught in the car headlights. And he looked back, the man, as if he heard the revs and wondered what the car was doing. He must have seen it coming towards him and realised it wasn’t going to stop. He started to run, but the driver just kept on going. Then the driver turned the car into the pavement, like he was aiming for the man. He must have caught him because he went down.’ Her voice was quivering. ‘I just… I’m sorry.’
Clare put a hand on her arm. ‘Take all the time you need.’
‘I think the car went over his legs. I heard the man cry out. The most awful cry you can imagine.’ She shuddered at the memory. ‘Then the car reversed, and I thought he would get out to help, or even drive away. But he went for the man again. Hit the lamp post. So hard. And then – then he saw me. I had my phone out to call 999, you know, but he saw me. So, I ran.’ Sally started to cry quietly. ‘I ran and left that poor man. But I was afraid. I thought he might come after me next.’
The dog began silently to lick Sally’s hand and she hugged him closer. Clare held her gaze. ‘Sally, you did absolutely the right thing. You saved your own life and you may have saved the man’s life too.’
‘I hope so. Will you let me know? About the man?’
‘We will. Now, can you remember anything else about the car or the driver?’
‘I saw a bit of the number plate. It was one of those square ones, with
the number on two rows. It was definitely SJ on the top row. I noticed that because of my initials. My middle name’s Jane, you see. And a seven on the bottom. That’s all I can remember.’
‘And the driver?’
‘I can’t be sure…’
‘Yes?’
‘Well, when the car drove at the man, and the lamp post, it was side-on to me, so I wasn’t dazzled, you see. And the light from the lamp post was shining down on it. I know it sounds odd, but I had the impression it was a woman driving.’
‘What made you think that?’
‘Just something about the profile and the hair. Sort of an old lady style. But it couldn’t be, could it?’
Clare didn’t reply directly. Instead, she said, ‘That’s very helpful, Sally.’ She looked intently at the woman. ‘I think we should get you home. One of our officers will drive you and make sure you’re all right. I’ll give you my card and, if anything else occurs to you, you can call me in the morning.’
Jim arrived and was despatched to take Sally and her dog home. ‘Check her house is secure before you leave her, Jim.’
He nodded and Clare turned to Chris.
‘Can you go through the list of stolen Land Rovers? Better do Range Rovers too but Land Rovers first. Sounds like a Defender. Check the registrations. We’re looking for an SJ followed by a seven.’
‘Will do. I have the list on my phone. Think there were only three so it’ll only take a minute.’
‘Good. Do we have a name and address for the victim?’
‘Yep. Nat Dryden. Lives in Bogward Road. Jim managed to get his wallet and keys before he was taken to hospital.’
‘Right. Once SOCO arrive we’ll go to the house. See if there’s anyone else at home. If not, we’ll start going through it. We’ll need a police presence up there too. Can you ask Jim to organise that when he comes back?’
‘As soon as I see him.’
‘Thanks.’ Clare took out her phone and called Sara. ‘Any news, Sara?’
‘He’s critical, boss. In theatre just now. Probably going to lose one leg, if not both. Head injury, too. He’s lost a lot of blood. Even if he survives the op he won’t be able to talk to us. They’re saying he’ll be put into an induced coma for a few days to let him recover from the op. Couldn’t get much more, but I’ll let you know when he comes out.’
Connor and Steve arrived, and Clare thanked them for coming out.
‘I need you to get down to Swilcan Taxis,’ she said scribbling down the address. ‘Knock up the owner if no one’s there. I want every vehicle checked for damage to the front. Paint scrape too. Unlikely it’s one of theirs so I want them ruled out as soon as we can. Then check all the drivers’ own vehicles. Anything dark green but chiefly a Land Rover. Oh, and check all the drivers’ hands. We’re looking for someone with the tip of the middle finger missing. It could be a woman so make sure office staff are checked too.’
‘Right-o, boss,’ Steve said, and the pair headed off to Swilcan Taxis’ office.
She turned to Chris. ‘Any luck on those car registrations?’
‘No matches, Clare. Sorry.’
‘Right. Maybe it’s not stolen then. So, I want Land Rover Defenders checked for the SJ and the seven.’
‘What, all of them?’
‘All of them. Start with registered owners within a fifty-mile radius of St Andrews. We can widen the scope if that doesn’t turn up anything.’
‘They could be false plates, boss.’
‘Yeah, I know. But we have to check. And get on to all the garages and body shops in the area. I want them on the lookout for anyone bringing in a Land Rover for repair. That lamp post will have left a pretty big dent, even in a Land Rover.’ She looked at the dark green paint on the lamp post. ‘When SOCO get here ask them to take a scraping of that paint. They might be able to narrow it down to the year it was manufactured.’
Clare’s mind was whirling. Had she covered everything? She thought so, but she knew Alastair Gibson had his doubts about her fitness to lead the investigation, particularly now that one of the victims was a close friend. She had to prove him wrong. She checked her watch.
‘I’m heading up to Mr Dryden’s house now, Chris. Can’t wait any longer for SOCO. Get Jim to help you with the Land Rovers and join me at the house when you can.’
He nodded. ‘On it.’
Clare climbed into her car and drove off. She was at Nat Dryden’s house in less than a minute. If only he’d been a bit quicker getting home – but, no. This was a targeted attack, the driver lying in wait; and, unless she was mistaken, the third attack by the same person.
Nat’s house was in darkness. Clare had a good look round the outside, then knocked on the door. No answer. She tried the doorbell. A neighbouring bedroom light went on and a few seconds later an elderly man appeared from the house next door. He was tying a dressing gown cord as he stepped out into his garden, pulling his front door closed behind him. His eye went to Clare’s car then back to her, viewing her with some suspicion. Clare showed him her warrant card and his demeanour changed. He seemed eager to help.
‘He’s usually home by now. Works in a pub in South Street.’
‘Does Mr Dryden live alone?’
‘Oh yes. Just him. I hope there’s nothing wrong?’
She ignored this. ‘Thanks for your help, sir. I have his keys, so I’ll let myself in.’ And, with that, the neighbour had to be content.
There was no sign of a burglar alarm on the house so Clare put the key in the door and opened it. She pulled on a pair of gloves and turned on the hall light. There were a few letters on the doormat and she picked these up to examine. One looked like a gas bill and the others circulars. She moved into the sitting room. The furnishings were cheap but serviceable enough. There was a gas fire along one wall, set into a chunky Fifestone surround with a two-seater settee opposite. The only other chair in the room, opposite a large flat-screen TV, was piled high with washing. An archway led to a dining area at the rear of the house and Clare walked through, her eyes everywhere.
And then she saw it. An open laptop on the dining room table. It had a mouse plugged in and Clare jiggled it to bring the laptop to life. Then she took out her phone and dialled.
‘Chris? Get over here as quick as you can. And bring an evidence bag with you.’
Chris arrived within a few minutes. Clare was waiting at the door. Neighbours had begun twitching their bedroom curtains so she closed the sitting room blinds to afford them some privacy.
‘Laptop?’ Chris asked.
‘Yes. Tor installed. Gloves on, mind.’
Chris pulled on a pair of thin gloves and began exploring the folders on the laptop.
‘Then there’s this…’ Clare held out a Post-it note with some writing on. ‘It was sitting next to the computer. Looks like a weird web address.’
Chris looked at the address. It seemed to be a random series of letters and numbers ending with .onion.
‘That’s a hidden page on the dark web.’ He looked at Clare, a smile forming on his lips. ‘This just might be the break we need.’
‘Why the onion bit at the end?’
‘Tor. It’s short for The Onion Router. So named, because it encrypts the connection in multiple layers, just like an onion. Each one is decrypted by one of the computers it passes through.’
‘I’ll take your word for it. So you think this is the web address for a dodgy page?’
‘I’d be surprised if it wasn’t.’
‘But, if it’s dodgy, why would he write the address down?’
Chris looked at his surroundings. An empty takeaway container sat on the floor next to a couple of beer cans. A glance into the kitchen revealed a sink full of dirty dishes and there was a film of dust on the TV. ‘It doesn’t exactly have the feminine touch, does it? I’d say he lives alone. There’s no point in using a browser like Tor which covers your tracks if you then add the web pages to favourites. Look at that address. See how complex it is. Would you lik
e to remember it?’
She saw his point. ‘What time does Tech Support open?’
‘I think it’s eight.’ Chris glanced at his watch. It was only half-two.
‘We need to get this down to them urgently. I’ll get it bagged up and I’ll head down there for eight.’
‘Gaffer’s called a briefing at eight,’ Chris reminded her.
‘Damn. So he has. I’ll text him and ask if he’ll put it back to nine. This takes priority.’
Clare looked round the room. ‘I’m guessing if he’s daft enough to leave the laptop logged on and this onion address at the side then he won’t have bothered hiding stuff. A quick look through all the rooms should do us.’
‘Fair enough,’ Chris agreed. ‘Want a team in for a look round anyway?’
‘Discreetly. No need to give the curtain twitchers any more ammo. All being well, he’ll recover and be back home, although God knows when, given his injuries.’
As they left the house and headed for the car, Clare was lost in thought. She put the key in the ignition then stopped.
‘What do you suppose he uses that laptop for, Chris?’
‘Not sure. Could be anything criminal.’
‘With some connection to the first two victims?’
‘Yeah, could be. What you thinking?’
‘I’m thinking we have three victims of hit-and-runs. Two dead, one nearly. And all three have been using that Tor browser.’
‘It’s not uncommon.’
‘Do you use it?’
Chris shook his head.
‘Nor do I. So it’s a bit of a coincidence, wouldn’t you say?’
‘I suppose so.’
‘Okay, if I’m right, then Andy Robb, Bruce Gilmartin and Nat Dryden have been using Tor, possibly for something criminal. Could be drugs but doesn’t really matter what it is at this stage.’
‘So those cards we found on the first two bodies, the five and then the four…’
‘Yep. It wouldn’t surprise me if SOCO found a number three card at the scene.’
‘You think someone has a list of victims?’
See Them Run Page 11