by Lynne McEwan
‘What did Wazir think was happening to the children?’ Kate turned over a new page in her notebook.
‘He claims he didn’t know, but it was something bad enough to tip Sami over the edge. As he told you, they were both in the grip of an organised gang Wazir’s too scared to inform on. The baby milk scheme was a method of escape. I think we have to conclude that we’re talking about sexually motivated crime, but where’s the evidence?’ Shona thought about her interview with Tony Kirkland. She could ask if Sami had confided in him about a paedophile gang, but if he had then Kirkland would surely have mentioned it when they spoke.
‘Could the children be for unregistered adoption?’ said Kate doubtfully. ‘Or, since Sami came in on a lorry, is it possible the gang were bringing in lone children for families already here? Or on their way here?’
‘Unlikely,’ Shona said. ‘Adoptions would have been travelling with at least one parent. If Sami was reuniting families, he wouldn’t have been so troubled by his own part in it. What else?’ she challenged Kate. ‘What else are children and young people used for?’
‘Well…’ Kate dipped her head, concentrating on her notebook. ‘County lines, drugs, but surely… DCI Baird would have picked up on this?’
She looked uncomfortable, perhaps expecting a reprimand for her lack of progress, but Shona appreciated that she’d volunteered to pursue an avenue that might lead to Sami and Isla’s killers.
‘Maybe they did, but preferred to go after the big fish?’ Shona replied. Baird had shared only enough intelligence with her for her team to mop up the low grade dealers. The children and teenagers put on a cross-country train with a sports bag of cocaine were not the focus of his op.
Kate was nodding now. ‘One of the outreach guys mentioned something. Town gangs renting rural Airbnb properties for a weekend. They bring in the local dealer network, kids mostly, to cut and package the drugs. They have an Xbox and send out for some pizzas, it looks like a family get together. When they’re finished, everyone goes their separate ways. The place is always left clean, I mean forensically spotless, so the owners have no complaints, and no one is any the wiser.’
Shona shifted in her chair. Did Rob know what their guests were up to in their ensuite rooms with all those immaculate, white-tiled surfaces? She couldn’t imagine the retired couples, their bread and butter, getting up to much mischief. Or the middle-class families arriving for the Kirkness Arts Festival next month, but surely that was the point. Make it look like normal activity and nobody batted an eye. ‘What about Isla’s social worker? Any luck with her?’
‘There’s been a fair turnover of staff, but I did speak to a woman called Sarah who’d been assigned to Isla and Ryan. They’ve had minimal contact, no causes for concern. With Marie Corr looking after Isla’s kid, and no problems at school, the family have been low priority. Paddy Corr wasn’t considered a threat, given his state of health and lack of recent convictions.’
‘So, when did Sarah last see Isla and Ryan?’
‘Months back. Isla never turned up for her last meeting, but that wasn’t unusual. Another date was scheduled this month, but by then she was dead. Isla’s movements have gone completely under the radar, for them as well as us.’
Shona sighed. She’d been hoping for more. Something, anything that filled out the picture of a girl whose whole life seemed to have been a spiral down to a violent death. Abuse, missing from home, addiction. Social services had done what they could, but no fairy godmother, no knight in shining armour was ever coming to save Isla. Shona wondered at what point Isla knew that. Seven or eight years old? Maybe even younger. The kids Sami was moving must have known that too. ‘What about Sami Raseem?’
Kate shook her head. ‘Nothing. Isn’t on their files. Which is no surprise, I suppose.’
Shona drained her cup. ‘Okay, thank you Kate.’ She gave her constable an appreciative smile. ‘Update me if you hear anything else from social services. Tell Murdo to come in. Let’s see where we are on other jobs.’
Murdo took Kate’s seat and ran through the case load, leaning on the far side of her desk while she nodded and jotted notes. Burglary, car theft, minor assault and a missing yacht.
‘What’s the name of the vessel?’ Shona asked without looking up.
Murdo flipped back a page, ‘The Solway Selkie, a Westerly Conway 36.’ He shrugged. ‘Doesnae mean a thing to me. Is that a big boat or a wee boat?’
‘Weekend cruiser. About ten metres long.’
‘So quite wee then. Not my idea of a fun weekend. It was moored up at Kingholm Quay. Owner just returned from a fortnight away.’
Shona pursed her lips and shook her head. ‘Worth about thirty grand. Probably stolen to order.’
‘Can you hotwire a yacht?’
‘Of course, same way you jump any diesel engine. Connect a battery across two wires on the solenoid. Bypass the starter button with one of your own. It’s not difficult.’ She pointed her pen at him in mock admonition. ‘You see Murdo, if you’d grown up on a council estate, you’d have known that.’
‘Oh right. Get many stray yachts in Glasgow, did you?’
‘No,’ she smirked. ‘Actually, Tommy showed me. We had a fella who dropped his keys in the Solway rowing back to his boat from the pub. You let the coastguard know about the theft and I’ll ask Tommy to keep his eyes open. Anything else?’
‘Nope, that’s the butcher’s bill.’ He closed his notebook. ‘Where are we with Isla Corr and the fella from the motorway? Need anything following up?’
Shona didn’t doubt Murdo’s loyalty for a second, but he was an old mate and admirer of DCI Baird. It was best her sergeant stayed out of things.
She shook her head. ‘Nothing outstanding. Any other issues? Cars? Overtime?’
‘Not at the minute.’ He got up to go, apparently unfazed by her reply. She thanked him.
Once she was alone, Shona slipped out the STAC guest list with its remaining candidates for Jamie Buckland’s assailant. She started from the top, googling each individual name. Most had an internet presence. Councillors, businessmen, Chamber of Commerce officials. The profiles were mainly older and flabbier than her person of interest, but one or two looked possible. She pulled up their pictures. What she really wanted was video. The suspect’s walk was distinctive; toes pointed slightly outward, the shoulder roll of a physically confident man. Vinny could probably ferret out something for her, but she couldn’t risk it. By mid-afternoon, after exhaustive searching, she reluctantly admitted that she hadn’t found a match.
She was stretching back in her chair, reaching up to the ceiling and rolling out tense shoulder muscles, when she spotted Dan Ridley coming into the office. He looked like he hadn’t slept; his normally immaculate pale blue shirt was un-ironed under his grey suit. His bloodshot eyes met her gaze. She summoned him into her office with a jerk of her head.
‘What is it?’
‘Err, I could really do with some advice.’
She checked her watch; twenty minutes before a meeting with the local Police, Fire and Rescue Sub-Committee. ‘Okay, close the door.’ She pointed to the vacant seat by her desk.
‘It’s Lambert,’ he said, sitting down.
He’d been reprimanded. She’d seen it coming. Her insistence on pursuing the Isla case had led a junior officer into bother. ‘If he’s telling you to step back from the Corr investigation you should do it.’
‘It’s not that. I’ve been working late, tackling the paperwork he’s dumped on me, following up Isla in my own time.’ Dan’s hands were jittery. He put his car keys in his pocket before taking them out again. ‘He’s been mouthing off about you. There’s something else. I overheard him on the phone to DCI Baird, Lambert saw me. When he’d finished, he came up to me. He had this big grin on his ugly mug. He said, don’t hook up with Shona Oliver, she’s not going to last.’
Shona felt a chill. She’d faced the challenges of the old-boy network her whole career. Even with Mars Bars Munroe’s support it seemed
she couldn’t escape it. Munroe was retiring soon, Baird his likely successor. Had he already decided he couldn’t work with her? Or was it what she feared, something that had followed her from London? Something that would wreck not just her career but her home life too?
Shona saw Dan watching her closely. ‘Thanks for the warning,’ she said with a confidence she didn’t feel. ‘If Lambert is targeting you, you must talk to your federation rep.’ She gave him a tight smile. ‘And don’t worry. It’s the usual dick-swinging. I’m not going anywhere.’
Chapter 26
Shona sat through the hour-long session of the Police, Fire and Rescue Sub-Committee with Dan’s words playing over and over in her head. She was determined not to let it get to her. Her results would speak for themselves.
As she left the meeting, she stopped one of the councillors, an upright man of military bearing, who she recognised as a STAC reception guest. She smiled, offering her hand and words of praise for his efforts on behalf of his community. When she asked about the suspect from the video, wondering if perhaps he was acquainted with the individual and knew his name, the councillor glanced at his watch, made a curt excuse and walked away. She stood processing this odd encounter when the answer came to her. The councillor in question had just received a drink-driving ban. It had been in all the newspapers. No matter what the topic, a police officer was the last person he wanted to chat to.
The CID office was quiet when she returned. Ravi was draped across a filing cabinet, his chin resting on folded arms as he chatted to Vinny Visuals. The surveillance expert dipped his head and got back to work when he saw Shona’s fierce stare. Ravi pulled himself upright and came over to Shona’s office. He tapped lightly on the door frame. ‘Boss.’
‘Hi, Rav, how’s it going?’
‘Aye, good. I can give you a progress report on Becca’s accident if you want?’
‘Go on.’
‘The families of the lads caught in possession all seem to be in the clear.’ He pursed his lips, pausing to see how she’d take the news.
Shona nodded. A local feud which had turned personal against an officer was often difficult to extinguish and had wider impacts on community policing. In pubs or shops, people would stop in mid-conversation, tyres would be slashed. She loved Kirkness, the community and the lifeboat. It would break her heart to leave. ‘Okay, can’t say I’m not relieved about that. Any other leads?’
‘Traffic have identified a suspect car, darkened windows, false plates. It popped up on the A75 then disappeared. There’s a watch out on it but if the driver swaps the plates again…’ He let sentence trail off. ‘What I can’t understand is why a car like that would have been on a wee dead-end farm road?’
‘Could have been passing thorough from England, heading for Stranraer. Stopped off looking for a pub, or a pee, and got lost.’
‘But to avoid the cameras afterwards?’
‘It’s not hard. With a map or a Satnav and some common sense, you’d know we can’t cover all the backroads here. Could even have swapped the plates soon after. There’s a Border Agency cop at Stranraer.’ She wrote down a name, tore the sheet from the pad and handed it to Ravi. ‘Worth asking if the suspect vehicle hopped on a ferry later that day,’ Shona said evenly, trying not to get her hopes up. She would dearly love to see the driver nailed to the wall but knew she might never get the satisfaction. The cop in question hadn’t got back to Kate over the child trafficking inquiry – this might also serve as a reminder.
‘Thanks, boss.’ Ravi smiled and pocketed the name. ‘How’s Becca doing?’
‘Good. Yeah, should be home soon.’
‘That’s brilliant.’ Ravi’s smile switched to full beam. ‘She’s a sparky girl.’
‘Well, you were a hit at the hospital too.’ Shona found her mood lifting, caught by Ravi’s good spirits.
‘Aye, mutual appreciation society there. She’s a top lassie, you’re dead lucky.’
Shona had a sudden vision of a few years in the future. Becca at Glasgow Uni, meeting up with Ravi and his mates, gay and straight, and going out on the town. She wondered if she should warn Hillhead police office. Glasgow wouldn’t know what hit it. She laughed. ‘Yes, suppose I am.’ She picked up her coat. ‘Although, sometimes…’
‘She’ll be fine.’ He touched her elbow and until that moment, Shona hadn’t realised how much she needed to hear someone else say it. ‘And,’ he continued, ‘we’ll get the bastard, don’t you worry.’
‘Thanks, Ravi,’ she said, and meant it.
‘You heading up there now?’ he asked. ‘I’ll come with you if that’s okay? Social call. Thought Bec and I could crack open a few beers, celebrate her forthcoming release from custody.’ He grinned at her.
‘Get on with ye, she’s fifteen and concussed.’ Shona pushed him out the door. ‘Which is what you’ll be if you don’t behave yourself, DC Sarwar.’ She laughed. ‘Come on then, Becca would love to see you.’
As they left the office, Vinny looked up from his keyboard, a goodnight on his lips. He hurriedly looked down again at the severity of the look Shona shot him.
Ravi chatted with Becca for fifteen minutes and Shona could hear the two of them laughing when she returned with coffee. She stayed another half hour and was pleased to learn that Becca was much improved and would be discharged tomorrow if the doctor okayed it.
As she drove back to Kirkness, she found herself humming along to Fleetwood Mac on the radio and planning her next free day with her daughter. Perhaps she could find someone from the Solway Yacht Club to take them out for a sail, if the weather held. Becca must be fed up with the stuffy hospital air.
The road dipped down into the village, the black mirror of the estuary reflecting the shore lights, doubled points of brightness in the dark. Shona pulled into the drive. The scent from the pine trees that gave the house its name filled the cooling evening air.
The lower floor of High Pines was dark and quiet. Normally the windows of the two ensuite rooms would be lit as people prepared to go out or relaxed after an early dinner. Shona came in through the back door and hung up her coat in the utility room. ‘Where are the guests?’ Rob was sitting at the kitchen table. It only took a moment for Shona to see how drunk he was.
‘Gone. Checked out early,’ he slurred.
‘Because of this?’ Shona said sharply, indicating the bottle and glass on the table. He shrugged.
Rob reached for the whisky, but Shona was quicker. She dumped the half-full bottle of Talisker Single Malt down the sink. ‘Becca’s coming home tomorrow. Do you want her to see you hungover, stinking of booze?’
He staggered upright and looked set to challenge her, but his resolve crumbled, and he sat back down again with a bump. Shona glared at him, her lips white with anger, until he fell forward onto the table, head in hands. ‘You don’t need to say it. It’s my fault. Becca is my fault.’ He sobbed. ‘Jesus, she could have been killed.’
Shona took a deep breath, fighting to calm herself, and pulled out the chair opposite him. ‘Look,’ she said, ‘you didn’t hit Becca, an unknown driver did.’ She reached across and took his hand. It was a natural urge, to blame yourself, to believe you could have saved a loved one from harm. Some people focused on an unlucky misstep, arriving late or a missed phone call, convinced this had precipitated the catastrophe. It was rarely true. Life and death were more random than most people were prepared to accept. She realised she’d fallen victim to this herself, blaming Rob for letting Becca ride up to the farm for eggs, a journey of a mile or so that she’d done multiple times. But he wasn’t off the hook completely.
‘I do hold you responsible for being out of contact. Why didn’t you answer your phone? You must have seen all the missed calls from Becca and me, but you just sat in the Royal Arms drinking with Sandy.’
‘I wasn’t in the pub with Sandy,’ he said quietly, wiping his eyes. ‘I’d only been there a minute when Murdo came in.’
‘Then where were you?’ Becca had been in ho
spital for three days and this was the first he’d mentioned it. She sensed a shifting, a realignment. Was he having an affair? She searched for a likely candidate and realised she knew very little about the people he worked and socialised with. Was there someone he’d mentioned? A name dropped frequently into conversation? She was a detective, this would not have got by her. But even as the thought formed, she knew it wasn’t true. Anyone can be deceived if they’re told a convincing enough lie.
Rob looked up at her, his tanned and handsome face a picture of misery. ‘Shona, I couldn’t help myself.’
Shona let go of his hand and folded her arms, hugging them tight against her ribs and looked down, avoiding his eyes. She felt the surge of anger returning and fought to control it. Now, the axe would fall, and she knew that even if he confessed and swore regret, this would be the end of their marriage. They’d survived many upsets; Shona’s brush with depression after Becca was born, Rob being made redundant from the bank, the turmoil of Becca’s expulsion from school in London, adjusting to this new life in Scotland. But all that was possible because they shared a fundamental trust in each other. An affair would shatter that.
He reached across for her hand, but she remained leaning back in her chair. ‘Shona, I’m sorry.’ He paused taking a deep breath. ‘I was in the casino in Dumfries. I owe money. The car with the darkened windows? I think they were looking for me. What if they did this as a warning?’
Shona shook her head, trying to pin down the thoughts racing around her brain. Not an affair. ‘What? No, the car wasn’t local. It was passing through. False plates.’ She stared at him. His expression wasn’t one of guilt or remorse. It was fear. ‘How much do you owe?’
‘The debts have been building up for a while. But since that STAC night a couple of weeks back, seeing how successful my university pals were, I wanted that,’ he said desperately. ‘When I went back to see them, I tried to make back my losses and things just spiralled out of control. We went to the casino, Kenny Hanlon was there, he said he was interested in my restaurant idea.’