by Helen Fields
‘Maybe. The additional wound ran upwards from the lower eyelid to the eyebrow, cutting the surface of the eye. Sorry, I know that’s a dreadful thought. Even I had trouble comprehending the amount of pain it would have caused. It would explain how a victim might end up wheeling around out of control into the path of an oncoming bus. Her vision would have been completely compromised on that side immediately, and she’d have been aware of nothing but the undoubted agony of it,’ Jonty said.
‘So it’s a murder,’ Callanach said. ‘If the wounding to the face caused her death, recklessly, that’s enough for intent.’
‘It’s enough for a trial. At the very least we’ll get a verdict of culpable homicide,’ Ava said. ‘Superintendent Overbeck and I are overdue another conversation about it. Not right now, though. Dr Spurr, thank you. Will you call my mobile if you find anything else? Luc and I are due on a train to Durham in a couple of hours. DC Tripp is holding the fort in the incident room if you need assistance from there.’
‘You’ve a lot on your shoulders,’ Jonty said as he returned Lorna’s body to its chilled enclosure. ‘Three open murder cases now, and another young woman missing. Make sure you get some rest. My patients may be dead, but I can still recognise the symptoms of exhaustion in the living.’
Chapter Twenty-Five
The safe house amounted to a dingy two-bed apartment above a barber’s shop in Bread Street. Many of the surrounding storefronts declared that units were to rent, the tourists not straying that far from the city centre. Traffic largely went through rather than stopping there, keeping the doorway relatively free from prying eyes. It served a variety of purposes for Police Scotland, and was a regular haunt for the undercover officers who were concerned that they might have been compromised, avoiding returning to a home address. Ava and Callanach did what they could to scruffy their clothes and make their visit appear in keeping with the property, grabbing a carrier bag of food shopping from a nearby supermarket before venturing inside.
Lively opened the door, wearing a massive, tatty jumper and jeans that should have seen a bin years earlier. Ava couldn’t meet his eyes. She hadn’t been in the same room with him since she’d caught him and the superintendent in flagrante delicto. She might never be able to touch the super’s desk again, she thought, as Callanach and Lively exchanged greetings.
‘Is the undercover officer here?’ Ava asked.
‘He’s taking a shower,’ Lively said. ‘Needed one, too. He stank the place out when he arrived. I know undercover officers are specially trained, but I think this might have been taking things a step far.’
‘At least he’s got an excuse,’ Ava replied. ‘More than you can say about your jumper.’
‘Ach, now you’re being personal, ma’am. There’s no cause for that,’ Lively said.
‘I think we’ll save that argument for a better time. Get him out of the shower, would you? I need to debrief then go. We’re running late as it is.’
‘Sorry, I thought you’d prefer to be able to get close to me without gagging,’ said a deep voice from the doorway between the sitting room and one of the bedrooms. A man walked out with what appeared to be a tea towel wrapped around his waist, hand outstretched. He was at least six foot four, the width of his shoulders best suited to a rugby scrum, more mountain than man. His dirty blonde hair hung in multiple rough plaits that straggled below his shoulders. Ava did her best to keep her eyes on his face as she shook his hand.
‘DS Pax Graham,’ he said. ‘You must be DCI Turner. I don’t get to meet many people outside my unit. Comes with the territory when you’re undercover. I’ve heard a lot about you though.’
‘For fuck’s sake, man, could you not have got dressed before coming out?’ Lively blurted.
It had been Callanach’s policy to agree with Lively as rarely as possible since the detective sergeant had made his early days with Police Scotland a constant piss-taking festival, but right then he agreed with him wholeheartedly. Ava, on the other hand, didn’t seem the least bit fazed.
‘I’m going to have to put the same clothes on again. If you don’t mind, that’s not really the sort of lasting impression I want to make. I can hardly enter the building looking like I’ve been living rough for a month and leave ready for a party, can I?’ Graham said.
‘Not a problem, although frankly I’ve had enough of seeing police officers naked for a while,’ Ava retorted. Lively didn’t so much as blink. ‘Perhaps we should sit down before you lose the tea towel, DS Graham.’
‘Someone’s been watching a bit too much Outlander,’ Lively muttered as they organised themselves.
Ava took a seat on an old wooden chair, which rocked beneath her. Callanach and Lively remained standing as Graham took the couch, sprawling his legs out before him, entirely comfortable with his lack of clothing, it seemed.
‘Take me through last night,’ Ava said.
‘The witnesses arrived well fed, and happier for it, although they were tired by the time the hostel was finally sorted. They wanted their beds, to be honest, but the offer to share a bottle of whisky persuaded them to stay a while. Your victim’s name is Melanie but they couldn’t give me a surname. A couple of glasses in and they were more than willing to talk. They might have been stony-faced to you, but the Spice assaults are getting a lot of publicity on the streets. The group of them were sheltering in an archway on George Street when it happened, keeping well back from the road so they weren’t spotted and moved on. Melanie had been with them earlier in the evening, then she disappeared for a while to score whatever drugs she could afford.’
‘Did they think it was Spice?’ Ava asked.
‘Quite possibly, but none of the witnesses were with her when she bought it or took it,’ he said. ‘From what I could piece together, Mel was back on George Street and walking in a daze towards them when she was attacked.’
‘By how many people?’ Lively asked.
‘Different version from each witness, varying between two, three and four, although none of them is particularly reliable and I doubt they were sober. They were all clear that the attackers were hooded, though. They approached Mel directly. No one heard them say anything, then there was a scream and Mel ended up flailing into the road.’
‘Did no one see the knife?’ Ava asked.
‘It was too dark, even with the lights from the George Street premises. Street lighting causes the sort of shadows that makes it hard to see clearly, and these folk haven’t been to an optician for a few years. One of them described what looked like a tussle surrounding Mel. As she went into the road, the attackers ran west then disappeared down a side street. By that time, all hell had broken loose with the bus and no one paid them any more attention. One witness heard something after the bus hit, though. Apparently one of the people running away shouted, “You fucking cretin.”’
‘At who?’ Ava asked.
‘I’d guess at their fellow attackers. No one mentioned anyone else being out on the street,’ Graham said.
‘Cretin,’ Ava shouted. ‘Not exactly street language.’
‘That it’s not,’ DS Graham said. ‘The regular homeless community is scared now – even the ones who don’t take drugs. It’s starting to feel like a campaign.’
‘Maybe they should try confiding in the police rather than us having to go to these lengths to get information out of them,’ Lively said.
‘Maybe you should try living on no money and sleeping where drunks piss on them of a Friday night after work, then judge,’ Graham said, grinning at Lively.
Ava didn’t bother to intervene. Lively could stick up for himself, and it was about time he met someone of his own rank who was willing to answer him back.
‘Is that it?’ Ava asked.
‘They all want an extra night at the shelter paid for as they got there so late this morning,’ Graham said.
‘That’s fine. Lively, you organise that. The hostel should already have my credit card details,’ Ava said.
Graham nodd
ed at her. ‘They said you treated them kindly. I’m grateful to you for it. It’s not often I hear positive feedback from people in their situation.’
Ava stood up and Graham followed suit. ‘Are you willing to go back out there?’ Ava asked. ‘I gather from the incident room you’re due a night off, but at the moment …’
‘I wouldn’t think twice about it, ma’am,’ Graham said. ‘Don’t worry about me. I don’t tire easily.’
‘Good. DI Callanach and I are on our way to Durham. We have a young woman missing at the moment, believed to be in imminent danger. DS Lively will give you my mobile number. If you hear or find anything else of relevance, phone me immediately, whatever the hour. DS Lively is in charge of this investigation in my absence.’
‘Is there no other detective inspector available in your absence?’ Graham asked.
‘MIT is currently shortlisting to appoint a new one,’ Ava said. ‘I appreciate your help on this.’
‘And I’d appreciate it if you’d get some clothes on while I see the DCI out,’ Lively said.
‘Sure.’ Graham smiled. ‘I was just enjoying the feeling of being clean and wrapped in fewer than a dozen layers for ten minutes. Good to finally meet you, ma’am, having heard so much about you.’
Lively glared as DS Graham went back into the bedroom. ‘Honest to God, is Police Scotland taking recruits from a casting agency these days? First you’ – he nodded in Callanach’s direction – ‘and now Highlander there, although I suspect those abs are spray-painted on.’
‘I’m too busy for the jokes today, Sergeant, and I may never be in the mood for them again from you. Get back to the station and coordinate the squad so that we have a five-man team on Melanie’s murder. Use the photo we found on the body to cross-reference the house number with pylons in close proximity to residences, and locate her family. Somebody somewhere is waiting for the poor woman to get home. And update Overbeck on the case status. She won’t be pleased.’
‘I could phone her from the car en route to Waverley station,’ Callanach suggested.
‘No, that’s okay. Lively can do it. Overbeck seems to like him.’ Ava glared. ‘Can’t imagine why.’
Chapter Twenty-Six
The train journey from Edinburgh to Durham took only an hour and forty-five minutes, but to Ava it felt like forever. Making the call in person was an absolute necessity in the circumstances, and Luc had insisted on accompanying her. Even so, she couldn’t stop checking her watch.
They sat in the first-class carriage for the additional quiet and space, taking and sending texts and emails every few minutes. Eventually Ava sighed and set her phone down.
‘You okay?’ Callanach asked.
‘Not really,’ Ava said. ‘Jonty’s right. I’m exhausted. It’s not helping my ability to be insightful about either case at the moment.’
‘What’s going on with DS Lively? You were both acting strangely. Who has he pissed off this time?’
‘No one, sadly,’ Ava said. ‘Complaints about him, I can handle. This is … never mind. It’ll burn out. I have a bigger issue to deal with – the hooded attackers who ran away from Melanie and shouted the word cretin. I appreciate that language isn’t exclusive between social classes, but it’s one of those words I can just imagine the boys from my school days using. It’s demeaning and yet it makes you – or you think it makes you – sound clever. If this was our usual bunch of drunks or gang members, they’d have used any number of colourful obscenities – but cretin?’
‘You have a theory?’ Callanach asked.
‘Lively and I traced a key that was found at the site of the second attack. A witness thought they heard something metallic fall as the men ran away. It’s from a locker at possibly the most prestigious private school in Edinburgh. It could have been a coincidence. The witness could have been mistaken, and yet when we went and spoke to the boy whose locker it was, he seemed prepared for us. Smug, even. Perhaps I was imagining it.’
‘But now you have another witness who heard a form of speech that fits the same suspect,’ Callanach said.
‘Which is no more evidence than saying a witness talking extensively about wine and cheese must be French,’ Ava said. ‘Overbeck has already warned me off.’
‘When did that ever stop you?’ Callanach asked.
‘Never, only this time I’m reaching and she knows it. I’m not even close to having reasonable cause to interview, ask for a search warrant to look for a weapon or seize clothing to check for blood spatters. With Kate missing on top of that, it feels like I have to prioritise.’
Callanach stared out of the window for a few minutes before speaking again. ‘I know I’m going to regret asking this, but you said something to Lively about having seen enough police officers naked … I forget the exact words. Did I miss something?’
‘Annual Police Scotland rugby tournament,’ Ava replied smoothly. ‘All the players end up off their faces and thinking it’s clever to strip off. They usually end up in their own cells overnight while they come to their senses.’
‘Is that right?’ Callanach asked, staring at her as she busied herself checking emails on her mobile.
By the time they reached Mr and Mrs Bailey’s house, the afternoon was leaking light. A local police officer was waiting for them in the road, briefed to offer ongoing support after they left. Ava knocked on the door. It took several minutes for a woman to open up. Mrs Bailey was prematurely grey, with bags under her eyes and clothes that needed changing. They offered their IDs, introducing themselves.
‘Can we come in, please, Mrs Bailey? It’s about Kate.’
Mrs Bailey’s face transformed. That look. The instant knowledge and denial that was world-changing, so often tempered with good manners and patience.
‘We don’t have a lounge. We had to convert it into a downstairs bedroom for my husband. He has chronic rheumatoid arthritis that has caused lung disease.’ She kept her voice low. ‘I’d prefer it if we spoke away from him.’
‘Of course,’ Ava said. ‘Would your kitchen be a good place?’
Mrs Bailey walked into the hallway and pulled a door shut before motioning them into the small kitchen. ‘Before you start, I need to know. Is Kate …’
‘She’s missing and hasn’t been seen for two days,’ Ava said. ‘There’s no reason to believe she is dead at the present time, but we think possibly your daughter has been kidnapped.’
Mrs Bailey sank into a chair, banging her elbows heavily onto the kitchen table. Ava looked around as she gave Kate’s mother time to recover from the shock. The kitchen was small but clean. A dish with the remnants of something savoury sat beside the sink, with a spoon in it. Kate’s father had to be very weak indeed if he was being fed. No wonder Kate hadn’t felt able to ask for financial assistance from them.
‘What makes you think she’s been kidnapped?’ Mrs Bailey asked quietly. ‘Surely she might just be with friends? Sometimes she does long shifts with her job and then I don’t hear from her for a few days. Has there been a ransom note?’
Callanach sat down at the kitchen table and gently took Mrs Bailey’s hand in his own. ‘When did Kate last contact you?’ he asked.
‘Three days ago. Just a quick call to say she was all right. She got an A on her last assignment and wanted me to tell her dad. He’s so proud of her.’
The tears began in earnest. Ava could almost have timed it. There was often a three or four minute delay from when you arrived at a front door to deliver bad news to when the horror of it broke through the trauma. She handed over the tissues she’d had ready in her pocket.
‘Would you mind putting the kettle on and making Mrs Bailey a cup of tea?’ Ava asked the uniformed officer.
‘We’re doing all we can to find Kate,’ Ava said. ‘But I’m afraid we need to explain the full reason for our visit. The person we think is holding her has likely been responsible for the kidnapping of two other young women. I’m sorry to have to break this to you, but it’s important you don’t hear it f
rom the media first.’
‘What other girls? Did you find them? Did you get them back?’ Mrs Bailey sobbed.
‘I’m afraid not,’ Ava replied. ‘We didn’t locate them in time. The other girls are the two whose bodies were found in Edinburgh over the last fortnight.’ Ava looked to Callanach. He was ready to catch Mrs Bailey if she fainted. Ava didn’t continue offering information immediately. She’d just delivered what amounted to a death sentence on this woman’s daughter. Nothing Mrs Bailey was told for the next few minutes would sink in or be of value. Sometimes you had to remain silent and know these were the moments you would despise your career choice, but that they were also the reason you chose the job in the first place. Giving the bad news. Trying to stop what was happening before you had to deliver the same bad news to any other parents.
Mrs Bailey bolted for the sink, vomiting, shrieking, then vomiting again. Ava held the woman’s shoulders gently as she spat, rinsed her mouth in the tap and then doubled over, howling.
‘My baby girl,’ she cried. ‘He’s got my baby. Please stop him. My little Katie.’
Ava didn’t speak. There were no words for the terror a parent felt when a child was taken. Soothing noises and promises were a pathetic drop in the ocean of fear. Better just to lend a body to hold on to during those first horrendous moments.
Callanach disappeared into the corridor. He was checking on Mr Bailey, Ava thought, making sure he hadn’t been disturbed. He slipped back into the kitchen, mouthing that all was okay. Not for long, Ava thought. Sooner or later Mr Bailey would have to be told just how dire the situation was.
‘Why did he choose Kate?’ Mrs Bailey asked when she could speak again.
Ava gritted her teeth. This would be the final blow, and it was one she wasn’t sure Kate’s mother could take at the moment.
Callanach interrupted. ‘You said Kate worked long shifts with her job? What was it she did, Mrs Bailey?’
‘She worked in a restaurant a few evenings a week, waitressing. The tips were good, she said, so she could afford to help us out. I didn’t want to take it, but she insisted. Was it someone from there? A customer? Or another member of staff? Do you know how to find him?’