by Helen Forbes
Christopher thought for a while, then he typed.
Leg’s fine, ta. Didn’t do much today. Busy tomorrow with house inspections. A couple of tenants are for the chop if there’s no improvement. Maybe I should take you with me more often for the initial meeting. All those that met you are model tenants. I wonder why…
Where you off to? Take care. C
Christopher knew he wouldn’t get an answer to the question of where Todd was going. Not that he really wanted to know, but he had to ask. There were unspoken rules and consequences. He was breaking the rules by not acknowledging the ten year thing. The consequences would be a huff and a couple of jibes, usually about Sharon. He wondered what he’d have to do before his pal would decide not to send the 10:30 email. That had never happened.
He was about to turn the laptop off when the first of the jibes came in.
How’s the tart? Joke!! Night night mate.
He didn’t answer.
*
Todd watched as Chris looked at the clock on his desk. Smile: you’re on camera. The quality of the image and sound from the study camera was almost as good as the DAB radio. Not that there had been much to see or hear from any of the cameras tonight. Chris had been in and out of the house a couple of times. He must have been working out on the gym equipment in his garage. Came in all sweaty and panting. And limping.
A shower, then food. A bit of Radio Four and a quick call to the tart. She hadn’t wanted to speak for long. Worried about Ryan, by the sound of Chris’s responses. At least she wasn’t at his house. At home with her boys. She should make the most of them for now.
He laughed at the scowl on Chris’s face as he read the second email. Good. He needed to learn some respect, some gratitude for all Todd had done for him, was still doing for him. Ten years was a big deal. They were doing something special. Just the two of them. The sooner that tart was out of the picture, the better.
***
Chapter 16
When Sharon woke and felt a small body curled up beside her, she thought of Ryan. He wasn’t in her bed; that would be well obscene, but it didn’t seem that long since he’d regularly crept in beside her, his cheeks wet from a bad dream. She’d tried talking to him again last night, but he wouldn’t say a thing. He’d hugged her at bed time, held her tight. Not like him at all. He’d looked so scared.
She couldn’t see Liam’s face, and she didn’t want to move and disturb him. It wouldn’t be that long until he was too big to creep into her bed. The thought gutted her. Much as she loved Ryan, she’d always known the distance between them. He remembered his father and resented his mother. Sharon blamed Peter’s sister, Gillian. They’d never really got on. Gillian had looked after the boys for long spells when Sharon was out of it on drugs, or in hospital or rehab. Given half a chance, she would have kept the boys for good. And Sharon hated her for it. And for messing with Ryan’s head and telling him his father was a decent human being, when he was nothing but an animal. Sharon had put a stop to that. She’d warned Gillian not to start that with Liam, if she wanted to stay in the boys’ lives. She knew she was chancing it. It wouldn’t have taken much for Gillian to poison the social workers against Sharon, make sure the boys were taken off her for good. But for some reason, it had worked, and Gillian had stopped talking about Peter to the boys. She’d hardly give Sharon the time of day now, but at least she wasn’t poisoning Liam.
And Liam was different. It wasn’t just his age. He was soft and kind, and absolutely devoted to his mum. She looked at the clock and saw it was almost time to get up. As her heart swelled with love, Sharon pulled him close. He turned and smiled, and then their front door exploded.
‘What the – ?’
Liam screamed as heavy footsteps thundered down the hall towards the bedroom. The door was thrown open and several dark figures with guns rushed in. ‘Police! Where’s Ryan? Where the fuck’s Ryan?’
‘No one in the living room or kitchen,’ she heard someone shout.
‘Bathroom’s empty.’ Another voice. ‘So is the other bedroom.’
She could hear them opening cupboards and drawers and scattering furniture. The policeman grabbed her arm and hauled her from the bed. ‘There’s a boy here,’ he shouted. ‘Too young for Ryan.’ One of his colleagues pulled the wardrobe doors open, grabbed her clothes from the rails and scattered them on the floor. He checked under the bed.
‘Mummy!’ Liam hadn’t called her that for years. Sharon pulled against the man that held her. ‘Get your hands off me, you bastard. Let me get my boy.’
‘Let her go.’ It was Galbraith.
‘Fucking bastard.’ Sharon rubbed her arm and got back onto the bed, holding Liam tight, rocking him. ‘It’s okay, son. It’s just a game. It’s okay.’
Galbraith told his colleagues to leave them. ‘There’s no one else here.’
When they’d gone, Sharon pulled the quilt up around her and Liam. ‘What the fuck?’
Galbraith sat on the edge of her bed. ‘Where’s Ryan?’
‘Last time I checked, about quarter past midnight, he was fast asleep in his bed.’
‘He’s not there now. What’s going on, Sharon?’
Sharon shrugged. ‘He didn’t shoot that man; I know he didn’t. I thought youse had nothing on him. I thought he was in the clear.’
Galbraith shouted Roberts. His lanky frame appeared at the door. He nodded his curly head. ‘Sharon.’
Liam pulled away from her and scrambled out of the bed. ‘Roberts, I remember you. I’m definitely going to be a copper. I want to play games like this. It’s exciting.’
Galbraith told Roberts to take Liam through to his room. Sharon nodded. ‘Aye, son. Show him what you and Ryan made with your Lego last night.’
Roberts looked a bit shame-faced. ‘Eh, there’s a bit of a problem with that…’
‘Bastards broke his castle? There’s no need for that.’
‘Come on,’ Roberts said. ‘You can show me what other toys you’ve got.’
Liam hesitated. ‘Will you be all right, Mam?’
‘I’ll be fine.’
*
Sharon MacRae hadn’t half changed since last year. Even first thing in the morning she was looking pretty good. Skin much better than it had been, decent hair, new teeth. Where had the money come from? Her arms were a state, though. She saw Joe looking at her scars.
‘You going to pass me my dressing gown?’ She nodded at the back of the door.
Joe passed it to her. ‘Sharon, you’ve got to tell us everything you know. Who’s Ryan hanging about with?’
‘Just his mates from school. Mostly Sean; he lives in Hawthorn Drive. Ryan tells me nothing.’
‘Has he mentioned someone called Todd?’
Sharon shook her head. ‘I’d remember that.’
‘Did you see him last night?’
‘Aye; he came in before tea time, and he was in all night. We watched telly, then he played with Liam. Hasn’t done that for years. What’s going on?’
‘Someone matching Ryan’s description was seen leaving the scene of another murder yesterday afternoon, and there’s evidence that suggests he was there.’
Sharon’s face was the colour of putty. She shook her head. ‘Another murder? No way was that anything to do with Ryan.’ There were tears in her eyes. ‘He wouldn’t kill anyone; I know he wouldn’t.’
‘What was he doing yesterday afternoon? Did he go to school?’
Sharon sniffed and shook her head. ‘No. By the time he got home, there was no point in sending him. He was here, with me.’
‘All the time?’
Sharon nodded, then it turned into a shrug. She’d been a hopeless liar last year when they’d questioned her about Stephen MacLaren, and nothing had changed.
‘Sharon?’
‘I heard him speaking on the phone yesterday and I wondered how he could do that when youse had his phone. He sounded really scared. He went out, and I followed him. He got into a car on Portland Place.’
‘What kind of car?’
Sharon shrugged. ‘Just a big dark thing. I couldn’t see the number. Big bald guy driving. I didn’t go too close. Ryan came home at tea time, and I didn’t let on I’d followed him.’
‘How was he?’
She shook her head. ‘I…I can’t…’
No wonder she was struggling. Joe put his hand on her arm. ‘I understand how difficult this is, Sharon, but it’s serious.’
She nodded, and said nothing.
He moved off the bed, and crouched in front of her. ‘We need to find him, to help him.’
She wiped a tear from her cheek. ‘I can’t grass on my own son.’
Joe nodded. ‘I get that, but it’s for his own good. He could be in danger.’
Her eyes met his and she took a deep breath. ‘He was…he was a mess when he got home. Throwing up in the toilet and crying. He looked terrified. He had these scratches and marks on his neck and his hands. It looked like he’d been grabbed by the throat. I tried to find out what was going on, but he wouldn’t tell me anything. You don’t believe he’d kill someone, do you? Was it another councillor?’
Joe shook his head. ‘Danielle Smith. Eighteen years old. Murdered yesterday afternoon.’
Sharon’s eyes were wide and scared. She shook her head. ‘No way. No fucking way. Not Ryan.’
The clothes Ryan had been wearing yesterday were gone. He’d taken a black rucksack, more clothes, and £100 from his mother’s purse. ‘Wee shite,’ Sharon said. ‘Bet he didn’t expect to get more than a fiver. Must have made his day.’
Joe didn’t ask her where she got the money. It wasn’t just Sharon that had changed since last year. As well as the fancy washing machine, there was new furniture, a couple of nice pictures. Something was going on. On the game? Wouldn’t have surprised him last year, but there was something different about her now. She was stronger, more confident. That kind of change usually came from sorting your life out, not from turning to prostitution.
‘Are you lot done?’ Sharon asked. ‘Liam’s going on a trip with the Cubs. I’ve got to take him soon.’
‘No, and we won’t be for a while. SOCO are on their way.’
‘Again? Fuck’s sake. Neighbours will think I’ve got a drug factory here.’
He hadn’t thought of that.
***
Chapter 17
Looking into the grief-filled eyes of Danielle Smith’s parents, listening to their questions, and answering them honestly, while trying to maintain the precious dignity of their only beloved child, was harder than anything Joe had done for a long time. Tina Lewis did it well. Much better than Joe. He had compassion, far too much of the stuff. Maybe even more than Tina, when it came down to it, but it was perception that counted. She had a way of putting it across that seemed really genuine.
This couple, Andy and Aileen Smith, they thought their daughter was working in a sports shop in Inverness, saving money to go to Oxford. She was going to study law, become a barrister. They’d been so proud of her. Brilliant at sports and top of the class in everything. She’d left school last summer and worked in Shetland for a while, then she’d moved to Inverness. They hadn’t worried. Inverness wasn’t that far. It must be safer than Oxford.
An escort? They looked confused. What did that mean? Was it something to do with taking disabled people out? Danielle had always been so kind.
That just about did it for Joe. Maybe he didn’t have as much compassion as Tina after all. He certainly couldn’t have handled the escort explanation as well as she did. Their faces. Their little girl? Was that like a…a prostitute?
*
A life on the ocean wave. That had been Ryan’s dream, ever since he was a young boy. He’d spend hours down the canal, watching the yachts and barges come and go. He’d sit at the harbour too, as the ships arrived with their loads of timber and oil, frozen fish and salt. He’d marvel at the tiny tug vessels, pushing the great, lumbering cargo boats into place. Imagine sailing away, leaving everything behind.
Maybe that’s what he’d thought he’d do when he’d crawled into the old boat at the canal marina early this morning, not long after the gates were opened. He’d been keeping an eye on the boat, and no one had been near it for months. How hard could it be to get the boat going and just disappear? Impossible. That was the answer. He hadn’t a clue. Didn’t know where to start, and if he messed about with it for too long, someone would notice.
Still, it gave him somewhere to hide. At least his head had stopped spinning, but he couldn’t banish Danielle’s face, especially in the dark beneath the tarpaulin. The terror in her eyes as he’d started to open her zip. The silent, desperate pleading. She hadn’t said a word. Just watched him with those eyes, her leg pressed against his, the short skirt rising up her thigh, her perfume filling his nostrils and turning his head. She was a whore, Todd had said; a dirty little whore. There was nothing Ryan couldn’t do to her if he wanted. No limits.
He had to get out of here, get some food, though he wasn’t sure he would be able to eat. The Co-op wasn’t far. But what if he was seen? He’d heard voices at the marina earlier, people moving around, boat motors starting up. It would be much harder to sneak back onto the boat now. Shit, he had to get a plan together, find a way out of Inverness. Ryan lifted the tarpaulin. There was no one around.
In no time at all he was back on the canal bank. He decided to stay in the bushes for a while, instead of lying beneath that tarpaulin. A couple of sausage rolls, three packets of crisps and some Irn Bru, and he felt more human. Maybe he’d make for the town later, get a bus to Glasgow.
Through the bushes he saw a blonde woman and a dog. He thought of his mum, and how tight she’d held him yesterday. Made him feel safe for a while, until he was alone in his room, and the darkness came. And with it, Danielle’s eyes, and the knowledge that it wouldn’t be long before everyone, including his mum, would know what he’d been involved in. She’d never hold him like that again.
His hands shaking, Ryan took his phone from his pocket. He’d phone her one last time. She wouldn’t recognise the number; maybe she wouldn’t answer. She answered straight away. Her voice made his stomach churn. He almost hung up; best just to leave, get out of town. But she knew. Without him saying a word, she knew. ‘Ryan, son? Is that you? Where are you? I’m worried sick.’
‘Mum. I’m…’
‘Son, tell me where you are. I’ll come and get you.’
‘I can’t.’
‘Aye, you can. We’ll sort everything out. Come home, son. It’ll be all right.’
God, he was tempted.
‘Liam’s missing you. Said it wasn’t the same without you nicking his toast this morning.’
Ryan would have given anything just to see that annoying wee shit, Liam, now. ‘Mum, I want to come back, but I don’t know if I can.’
‘You can. You just need to tell them everything. Son, I know you didn’t kill that girl.’
He dropped the phone. He could hear his mother’s tinny little voice shouting, begging. He wanted to stand on the phone, stamp it into the ground. But he needed it, so he picked it up, cut the call, and threw up in the grass.
***
Chapter 18
Sharon had never ignored Christopher’s calls and texts before. She’d relied on him for almost a year, told him everything. But this was different. A dead teenager, just a young girl. There was no way Ryan had anything to do with that, but it could be enough to put Christopher right off. And who could blame him?
Maybe if she hadn’t fallen so fast and so hard, Ryan wouldn’t be in this trouble now. He’d never been easy, but over the last few months, he’d been more arrogant, rougher with Liam, and disdainful of Sharon. She’d wondered if he was jealous of her relationship with Christopher, but she hadn’t done anything to try and find out. Too busy enjoying her new life.
Where the hell was he? Her phone rang and she snatched it up, hoping it was Ryan. It was Christopher. She hesitated, but couldn’t st
op herself. ‘Hi Christopher.’
‘Hi honey. What are you up to?’
Honey. Just one word and her legs felt like rubber. ‘Nothing much. I was…I was a bit busy earlier. Sorry I missed your calls.’
‘Yeah? What were you doing?’
She hesitated. ‘Eh…it’s Ryan. He left early this morning, before we were up. The cops are looking for him.’
‘Cops? Do they still think he had something to do with that shooting?’
‘I guess. I think there’s something else too, but I’m not sure.’ She couldn’t tell him.
‘I’ve got to take a run round a few of my properties, sort out a couple of problems. Do you want to come with me? It’ll take your mind off things.’
She should stay at home in case Ryan came back. But what if he didn’t? She’d waste the day. Liam was going to Gillian’s after the trip, and she was to pick him up later. ‘Do you need a heavy to duff up your tenants?’
He laughed. ‘I’ll give them one last chance, but I might have to take you up on that offer if things don’t improve. Are you coming?’
Of course she was.
*
See that sick leave Jackson had been considering? Now was probably the time to take it. DI Black had pulled him up about the neighbour in Carlton Terrace. There were only three moustaches in the station, and one of those belonged to PC Rona Lennon. Jackson had talked his way out of it, for now. He’d never been called to that block of flats, he’d said. It could have been anyone. The guy probably wasn’t even a cop. Just because the old bird thought she’d seen a warrant card, that didn’t mean a thing.
But that wasn’t what was making Jackson sick to his stomach. It was the thought of wee Danielle lying on the slab in the mortuary, waiting to be cut open. It was all Galbraith’s fault. If he’d taken her in yesterday, she’d still be alive.