Driftnet

by Lin Anderson

  He buzzed Janice, glad he hadn’t sent her to Falblair.

  ‘Janice.’

  ‘Yes.’ Her voice was as cautious as his own.

  ‘What do you know about Gavin MacLean?’

  She looked surprised. ‘He was checked out before we employed him, Sir. As far as we know he’s clean.’

  ‘I don’t mean that. I mean socially.’

  ‘Socially?’

  If Janice wasn’t trying to be obtuse, she was a natural at it.

  ‘Is he married?’ he tried again.

  ‘No.’

  ‘How d’you know?’

  ‘I just do.’

  ‘Do you fancy him?’

  ‘Sir!’

  ‘Well?’

  ‘No.’ She was emphatic.

  ‘Why not?’

  There was a pause. ‘Can’t say Sir.’

  ‘Go on Constable.’

  ‘He’s too good to be true, Sir.’

  ‘Thank you Janice. That’s a great help.’

  If she noticed the sarcasm, it didn’t show in her face.

  ‘Is that all, Sir?’

  The call came through at 4.40. The cottage at Falblair had been searched thoroughly.

  It was Sergeant George. ‘Sorry Sir. No curtains.’

  Bill swore under his breath. He was in for it now. Connelly’s contact must have been lying.

  ‘But,’ the voice on the other end stopped him. ‘We did find something that might be useful.’

  As Bill listened a smile spread over his face. His Sergeant was right. This was as good as the curtain, maybe even better.

  ‘Drop it in at Forensic on your way back,’ he said. ‘Make a point of giving it to Dr MacLeod in person.’

  Bill buzzed Janice.

  ‘Time for a coffee Janice. And Janice! I believe I’m going to have a nip of that whisky in mine, the one Sir James sent. How about you?’

  There was someone at the door. She didn’t want to see anyone right now. She sank back down into the bath water and closed her eyes. She had promised herself a long hot soak, and then… she had rehearsed the words a hundred times. She was going to tell Sean everything. Why she hadn’t answered his calls, why she hadn’t gone with him. Her suspicions about him, about herself.

  The bell went again, more urgently this time. The sitting room light was on. Whoever it was knew she was in, and wasn’t giving up. She swore, got out of the bath, put on her dressing gown and headed for the intercom.

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Rhona. It’s Chrissy?’

  ‘Chrissy! Come up.’

  Neil was with her. Rhona had felt curious about him. He certainly was a looker, bruised face or not.

  Rhona led them into the kitchen.

  ‘Chrissy said you like vodka, Neil.’

  He nodded.

  ‘Straight?’

  ‘Any way.’

  Chrissy accepted one too, saying nothing. She looked as if she hadn’t slept for a week.

  ‘You’d better tell me everything.’ Rhona said.

  ****

  ‘Is this journalist going to help you?’ Rhona said when Neil finished.

  ‘He said he would contact the police. Give them the information,’ Chrissy looked better now. Telling Rhona had made it less awful. She was slowly regaining her colour. She looked at Neil, who was standing by the window, staring out. ‘It’s just that when we got back to the flat, there was this car. A car Neil recognised.’

  ‘Neil?’ Rhona said.

  He turned round too sharply, and winced again.

  ‘Sit down Neil, please,’ Chrissy pleaded.

  ‘I’m okay,’ he said.

  ‘You can’t go back to the flat, not yet anyway. You must stay here.’ Rhona wasn’t prepared to take no for an answer.

  Rhona could see Chrissy wanted Neil to agree.

  ‘Just for tonight,’ Neil gave in.

  Rhona had made up her mind. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’

  When she came back with the printout, Neil had been persuaded to sit down beside Chrissy on the couch.

  ‘You used the names Simon and Caligula,’ Rhona said.

  He stared at her. ‘Aye?’

  ‘I think you should read this.’

  She watched as his eyes swept the page.

  ‘What is it Neil?’ Chrissy looked worried.

  He looked up at Rhona. ‘Where did you get this?’

  ‘From the printer on Gavin’s computer.’

  ‘Who the fuck’s?’

  ‘He was looking for information for me. Hacking the system, if I’m honest. He works for the police, helping them track computer crime.’

  Neil waved the paper at her. ‘Did he show you this?’

  ‘No. He doesn’t know I’ve got it.’

  ‘Why?’

  Rhona sat down, her legs suddenly weak. There was something in Neil’s eyes that demolished all her rationalisations about what was on the paper.

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Neil took the paper and examined it closely. Then he asked why the string of letters and numbers at the top of the page were the same.

  ‘What?’ she asked stupidly.

  ‘The two email addresses are the same,’ he said. ‘Look.’

  Rhona grabbed the paper from his outstretched hand. He was right. Her brain was straining to recall anything she could about the subject, but she kept coming back to the same conclusion.

  ‘Neil.’ The thought wouldn’t go away. ‘Have you ever met Simon?’

  Neil’s face tensed.

  ‘Slimy shit!’

  Neil turned to Chrissy. ‘There isn’t a Simon and a Caligula. There’s just one creepy bastard. And I’ve seen that bastard’s face.’

  Rhona came back with the vodka bottle.

  ‘Do you think it was this guy called Caligula or Simon that murdered the boy?’ she asked Neil.

  ‘I don’t know,’ he said.

  ‘We’ll have to tell the police,’ Rhona said.

  ‘No.’ Neil was adamant. ‘Wait. This MacLean. If he’s working for the police then you would expect him to have information like this. Why didn’t you ask him? Why did you hide the printout? Chrissy thought you and him were getting it on?’

  Rhona interrupted, shaking her head. ‘Chrissy was right. I did like him. Like him.’ Rhona searched for words. ‘I don’t trust anybody.’

  Neil shot Chrissy a look and she smiled.

  ‘I should have just asked him.’ Rhona was finding it hard to explain. ‘I felt guilty, it was like I was spying on him, his work.’

  She looked down at her glass. ‘I saw him in the park with a boy.’

  ‘What d’you mean, with a boy?’

  A boy got off a bus at the stop near GOMA. He met a man. It looked like Gavin.’

  ‘Did you know the boy?’

  ‘No. But Gavin’s got two nephews. It could have been one of them.’

  ‘What does he look like, this Gavin MacLean?’ Neil cut in.

  ‘He’s tall…’

  Chrissy interrupted her. ‘He’s blonde and wears a tweed jacket. Good looking. Smiles too much.’

  ‘You don’t think it’s Gavin?’ Rhona asked Neil.

  ‘No.’

  He stood up.

  ‘You two stay here,’ he said.

  ‘Where are you going?’ asked Rhona.

  Neil didn’t answer. He bent down and planted a kiss on Chrissy’s mouth.

  ‘Don’t let anyone in. I’ll see you later.’

  The place seemed suddenly empty without him. Rhona followed Chrissy over to the window, as sorry as she was to see Neil go.

  Chapter 34

  Chrissy persuaded Rhona to go and finish having her bath, while she cooked them both something to eat. Afterwards they took the remains of the vodka through to the sitting room and turned on the television. Outside, the weather broke.

  ‘I’ll get it,’ said Rhona, going to close the window. ‘You turn on the telly. Anything would be better than sitting here thinking.’
>
  The news came on.

  ‘Will I turn it off?’ Chrissy said.

  Rhona shook her head. There was always a chance they might have caught the guy, and life could get back to normal.

  But no. A spokesman for Strathclyde Police made a statement that there were no developments to report. Lines of enquiry were being pursued.

  ‘They’re bound to catch him now,’ Chrissy said angrily. Rhona felt unable to say what she was really thinking. Whoever Caligula was, he was a clever operator. It looked as if he had been at this game for a long time and, if what Neil said was true, he had friends in high places. If Neil chose to testify against any of them, they’d hire top lawyers to tear his story apart.

  After the murder update, the news switched to political stories, leading with the Conservative victory in Bearsden. Rhona listened dispassionately as the commentator spoke of the dynamic contest fought by the blue-eyed boy. A photograph of a happy family of four appeared on the screen. It had been taken in the garden of a big house. Fiona, Rhona had to admit, looked ravishing. At the front stood a plump but pretty teenage girl and a slightly younger boy.

  Rhona’s chest tightened at the sight of the boy’s untidy blonde hair. He looked as if he would prefer to be anywhere rather than in front of that camera. She felt a surge of pity. She knew how Edward could persuade people to do things they didn’t want to do. The voice-over gave an inventory of his distinguished legal career, his climb through the Party and his successful bid for power. Edward made a statement saying that his victory showed he had the heart and will of the people and he would do his utmost to put forward the Scottish perspective in parliament. He intended taking a flat in London, returning to Glasgow at weekends to see his family and conduct constituency business.

  ‘Had enough?’ Chrissy’s voice broke the silence.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘I’ll turn it off, then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  As Chrissy reached for the remote, the family picture was replaced by a more recent snapshot of the boy, sitting in a bedroom with a black labrador between his knees. The report continued with the news that Edward Stewart’s son Jonathan had been admitted to hospital soon after the by-election for an unspecified reason. He was expected to make a full recovery.

  ‘Why don’t we put some music on?’ Chrissy said. Rhona didn’t answer. She knew where she had seen Edward’s son before.

  ‘You’d better phone Edward.’

  ‘And say what?’ Rhona looked at Chrissy. ‘Say I saw his son meeting a man I thought I knew at the Art Gallery of Modern Art. He’ll tell me I’m being hysterical.’

  ‘What about the boy’s name in the email. You said those low-lifes talked about a Jonathan.’

  ‘There are lots of Jonathans. It could even have been a code name.’

  ‘Rhona. You know and I know it’s probably a coincidence, but if you think for a minute there was anything strange about that meeting, you’ve got to phone Edward. If he knows Gavin, we can at least relax about this one.’

  ‘I know.’

  ‘Look, I’ll go and put the kettle on while you try and get him.’

  When Rhona finally dialled the number, the phone rang out unanswered. Wherever Edward was, he wasn’t at home. She was expecting an ansaphone to click on when a breathless voice answered.

  ‘Hello. Yes? This is the Stewart residence.’

  ‘I’m sorry to bother you,’ said Rhona, embarrassed. ’I’m trying to get in touch with Edward Stewart.’

  ‘I’m sorry, they’re all at the hospital. They’ve been there all day.’

  ‘Yes, I saw something on the news about Jonathan. I hope he’s going to be alright?’

  ‘He’s off the danger list now, but it was touch and go for a while.’ The woman was gabbling on in her distress. ‘What could have possessed the poor lamb to do such a thing?’ she mumbled as much to herself as to Rhona. ‘He takes things too much to heart.’

  Rhona agreed and rang off.

  ‘Well?’ said Chrissy.

  ‘Edward’s at the hospital,’ said Rhona, accepting the mug of tea. ‘The housekeeper told me Jonathan was off the danger list, but it was touch and go for a while.’

  Chrissy looked puzzled. ‘If you saw him on Thursday, it must have been something pretty sudden.’

  ‘That’s the funny thing,’ said Rhona.

  ‘What?’

  ‘The woman said “what could have possessed the poor lamb to do such a thing?” ’

  ‘What thing?’

  Rhona didn’t like what sprang to mind.

  ‘You don’t think Jonathan tried to kill himself?’

  ‘Why would he do a thing like that?’

  ‘It’s just that, the woman said he took things too much to heart.’

  ‘My mum used to say that to me,’ said Chrissy grimly. ‘How else are you supposed to be?’

  Chapter 35

  Jonathan was dreaming.

  The dream was nice and he didn’t want to wake up. He was back in his bedroom. Amy had cleaned it, he had nothing to worry about any more. He heard Lobby barking in the garden, so he went over to the window. Lobby hardly ever barked. His mother was always saying he wasn’t much of a guard dog anymore. Too old. To Jonathan’s surprise and delight, he saw the labrador running across the grass towards the apple trees, running like a puppy. It made Jonathan feel like a kid again, like when he used to hide up the apple tree, or go swimming in the river. Before he got embarrassed about everything.

  The dog had disappeared into the trees.

  Jonathan waited for him to bound back the grass. He could hear barking but Lobby didn’t came out. The dog was with someone. Someone who had called him, and now wouldn’t let him come back. Jonathan was frightened.‘Lobby. Here boy. Lobby,’ he called.

  Then there was someone saying his own name, someone in the room with him. Someone who could help him open this window and get Lobby back.

  He turned towards the voice. A figure stood in the doorway. He knew that voice. He didn’t like that voice.

  ‘It’s me Jonathan. I’ve come for you.’

  The figure began to come towards him. Jonathan huddled against the wall, wrapping his arms about his body.

  ‘Jonathan. It’s okay.’ Someone was lifting his hand in theirs. ‘You can open your eyes Jonathan. It’s a dream. It’s only a dream.’

  Jonathan opened his eyes.

  ‘There, I told you.’ A nurse smiled down at him. ‘You’ve been dreaming. Was it a nightmare?’

  Jonathan shook his head embarrassed, but Nurse Jenkins didn’t seem to notice. ‘I’ll just check your temperature, then I’ll leave you in peace. Your father will be in shortly.’ She gave an encouraging smile. ‘Right. Do you want your earphones over?’

  Jonathan nodded.

  She handed him the portable CD player from the bedside table and four CDs.

  ‘I like this one,’ she said. ‘I’ll borrow it when Sister goes off duty.’ She gave him a conspiratorial look and smoothed his covers. ‘I’ll be back later to check you’re okay.’

  Jonathan wished he could speak to her. He liked Nurse Jenkins, (her first name was Rachel, he’d heard one of the other nurses call her that). He worried at first that she might despise him for what he’d done, but she didn’t. She told him the first time she met him that she understood. Once it had happened, that was the turning point, she said, things got better after that.

  But did they?

  Jonathan put in his earphones and tuned the sound up. If the music was loud enough, it would shut out the nightmare.

  Chapter 36

  Bill put the phone down, then picked it up again. If there was the smallest suspicion that Connelly’s informer was right, then he had to speak to Rhona.

  The phone rang half a dozen times and then a sleepy voice answered. It wasn’t Rhona.

  ‘This is the police. Is Dr MacLeod there please?’

  ‘Yes. But she’s asleep.’

  ‘Chrissy?’

  ‘Yeah.’
/>
  ‘It’s Bill Wilson here. Thought I’d got the wrong number.’

  ‘I’m staying with Rhona for a couple of days. I’ll go and get her.’

  Bill heard the pad of feet and Chrissy’s voice. A few seconds later, she was back, sounding frightened.

  ‘I don’t understand. She was here when I went off to sleep.’

  ‘When was that Chrissy?’

  ‘About ten. We were watching telly together. Then she said she was tired and went to bed. I conked out on the couch.’

  ‘Was there any reason for Rhona to go out.

  Chrissy didn’t seem too keen on answering that one.

  ‘Chrissy, it’s important I speak to her.’

  ‘I don’t know. Maybe she just went out for a walk. She was upset earlier.’

  ‘Why? Why was Dr MacLeod upset, Chrissy? It might be important.’

  ‘I don’t know.’

  Bill knew he was wasting his time. If Chrissy and Rhona had secrets, Chrissy wasn’t going to give them away. ‘Right. When Rhona gets back, will you ask her to get in touch with me?’

  Chrissy agreed. Bill Wilson wasn’t happy. Ever since that call from Connelly, he’d had an uneasy feeling he was missing something.

  Rhona didn’t like leaving without any explanation. But she wasn’t even sure what she planned to do. She fished in her coat pocket for the key and got into the car.

  Once she was inside she locked all the doors and turned on the radio. Anything to hear a friendly voice. She drove around the quiet streets for half an hour, wondering why she was out there, wishing she could talk to Sean, hear his calm voice unravel this mess that had become her life.

  At ten o’clock she’d told Chrissy she was going to bed. It seemed pointless waiting for Neil to come back, since they had no idea when that might be. She had drifted off to sleep for a couple of hours till the nightmare woke her up. She lay in bed shaking. If she didn’t do something, she would go mad.

  So here she was, driving around, in the middle of the night, planning to tell her ex-lover his son might be in danger from a paedophile ring. She was making a total fool of herself.

  Rhona pulled in and switched off the engine. She reached in her bag for her mobile. It obeyed her spoken command and showed Edward’s number. She pressed okay.