by Ed James
Please be alive.
A woman balled herself up on the floor, her head wedged against the underside of the table. Smudged make-up, deep-ringed eyes. Lank hair. Gripping her knees tight.
Wait. Not gripping, but tied up. With a cable.
‘Stephen, get a knife or some scissors.’
‘Sarge.’ He bundled out of the room, then thundered down the stairs.
The woman had something in her mouth, something fabric.
Vicky reached over and eased it out. A pair of black knickers. She bagged them up, then held up a hand. ‘Catriona?’
Didn’t even get a look, but got a nod. She twisted her head to the side and swallowed. ‘Who are you?’ Local accent, barely audible.
‘I’m a police officer. It’s okay. You’re safe.’ Vicky held out her warrant card and let her inspect it. ‘My name’s Vicky. I’m a sergeant. We’re looking for Catriona Gordon. Is that you?’
Catriona pulled her legs tighter, shut her eyes and gritted her teeth.
Considine rushed in with a pair of orange scissors. He passed them to Vicky, blade first.
She didn’t have time to correct his primary-school error, but set to Catriona’s wrists. Looked like washing twine, and hard to cut through. But a few quick slices through the length of the rope to preserve the knots and she was through. Then she set about the legs.
‘We believed your life was at risk, Catriona.’ Vicky got through the legs a lot quicker. ‘Do you want to come downstairs?’
‘No.’
‘It’s safe.’
‘He’ll be back.’
‘Who will?’
No answer.
‘Come on, we need—’
‘Douglas. Douglas McLean.’
‘Is that the man you’re worried about?’
Up close, Vicky could see how injured the woman was. Bruised and cut up, like she’d been punched and dragged around.
This didn’t look like a consensual sex game gone wrong.
Vicky held out her hand.
Catriona stared at it for a few seconds, then gripped it tight and used it to pull herself up to her feet. She was almost as tall as Considine. Pretty, but there was a darkness in her eyes, like she wasn’t in the room with them. And Christ, she looked barely ten, let alone nineteen.
Vicky offered a hand like she was with her daughter and led Catriona out of the room and into the hallway. Her breathing was getting faster with each step down. ‘You’re doing well, Catriona.’
She collapsed onto a chair in the tiny living room.
Vicky nodded at Considine and it took him a few seconds before he seemed to realise that he was supposed to do something. ‘Call it in.’ She waited for him to clear off, then gave Catriona a warm smile. ‘I know how—’
‘He’s going to kill me.’ She spread her feet wide, like she was ready to pounce at any second and get the hell out of there. ‘How do I know you’re not working with him?’
‘We’re the police, Catriona. Here is my warrant card. We were conducting an investigation and it led us here.’
Catriona scratched at her face again, chipped nails chewing at the flesh. She drew blood.
Vicky grabbed her wrists. ‘Hey, it’s okay. Alright? It’s over. Whatever happened, whatever he did to you, it’s over.’ She let go.
Catriona clenched her fists, but at least wasn’t hurting herself any more.
Considine came back into the room with a couple of uniforms. Sometimes the most useless could surprise you.
Still, Vicky had to shoot a glare at him in case he said or did anything inappropriate. ‘You can get back to the taxi firm.’
‘Sarge.’ He frowned, like he was disappointed at being sidelined so soon. ‘Okay. Keep me posted.’
‘Will do.’ Vicky focused on Catriona, cowering on her bed. ‘Tell me what happened tonight.’
‘I don’t know if I can say it out loud with all these men around.’
‘You can whisper it in my ear.’ Vicky cupped her hand and put it to the side of her head.
Catriona bit her lip, her gaze shooting everywhere. She nodded and leaned forward. ‘I think Doug raped me.’
‘Thank you, Catriona. I know how hard that must’ve been. We’re going to take you to hospital. They’ll check you out. The officers here are going to guard this place until forensics officers arrive.’
The nearest uniform’s chest deflated. Christmas Eve in a freezing house. Happy days.
Catriona opened her eyes and looked up at Vicky. ‘Thank you.’
11
Alison Carmichael was a few inches shorter than Vicky and almost as wide as she was tall. Natural-looking blonde hair tied back. Staff nurse blue scrubs. ‘Miss Gordon is undergoing a full examination and I will fast-track a forensic sexual assault evidence kit.’
Vicky stared back at the room off the ward where Catriona was being inspected. ‘Doesn’t bear thinking about, does it?’
‘Sadly, it’s a common occurrence.’ Alison stuffed her hands into her pockets. ‘I know how sensitive these cases are. Let me see how it’s going, okay?’
‘Thanks.’ Vicky watched her go, strutting along the corridor then into the room, then collapsed against the wall. A cleaning machine was working away nearby but she couldn’t see where the sound was coming from, just had that deep throb and the reek of chemicals.
And she couldn’t get the thoughts of Catriona Gordon’s ordeal out of her head. She had suffered one of the most brutal attacks anyone could endure. Her head would be full of self-hatred and disgust. Torturing herself, blaming herself.
Vicky had read somewhere or heard on some course about how it was the brain’s way of trying to prevent it happening again. Torture yourself badly enough that you didn’t get into the situation again.
The reality was so much darker than the theory. Seeing someone clawing at their skin like that. Hating their own body. When it wasn’t her fault.
And whoever did it, Dougie McLean say, the sheer callousness of making beans on toast before he left.
Christ.
She brushed a tear out of her eye and got out her phone. A text from Considine:
Raging about McLean. Lassie was raped eh?
Expressing frustration as anger. Understanding as rage. The closest he came to caring, maybe.
Vicky called her mum, listening to the ringing. She could picture her rummaging through her handbag, scouring the contents as she searched for her phone, ringing loud enough to be heard in Edinburgh.
‘Hello?’ Voice super-quiet.
‘Mum, it’s Vicky.’
‘Oh, hello, Victoria. How’s it going?’
‘Tough, Mum. Really tough. Listen, thanks for helping me out.’
‘It’s fine. The number of times your father would be called out at all hours during his days on the force.’
The plus side of having a copper father. And a mother who’d been understanding about it all. ‘How’s she?’
‘Oh, Bella’s asleep. Lasted half an hour of that film. Frozen, is it?’
‘Aye. But that was the second time she watched it.’
‘Twice back-to-back. I put her to bed and came back down to see your father watching it.’
Vicky laughed through a thick throat. ‘Did he deny it?’
‘Oh, of course. Still, we watched the rest of it and he’s got Die Hard on now.’
‘That’s more like it. Make sure the sound’s down.’
‘He’s got his headphones on. Cable reaches all the way to your telly.’
Vicky could just imagine him sitting there, beer in hand, cable pulled tight as he lounged back and watched John McClane killing German terrorists.
Christ, the same surname as the chief suspect, albeit differently spelled.
‘Shall we put her presents out for you?’
‘I’d rather do it myself, if it’s all the same.’
‘Any idea when you might be back?’
‘You know how it is, Mum.’ Vicky sighed, but felt it dragging her down int
o a deep well. ‘But I’m not missing her Christmas for anything. Or your roast turkey tomorrow, Mum.’
‘That’s good to hear. Your brother’s looking forward to seeing you.’
‘I bet he is.’
Alison stepped out of the room, with the sort of scowl Vicky really didn’t want to see.
‘I better go, Mum. I’ll text you when I leave.’
‘You do that.’
Vicky walked over to the room, pocketing her phone as she went. The curtains were drawn, so at least she didn’t see Catriona’s suffering first-hand. ‘How is she?’
‘Well… not great.’ Alison was staring into the middle distance. A big shiver and she was back. ‘There’s no way to prove she was raped, but she did have sexual intercourse with someone in the last day or so. Certainly since she last showered. I’d say there are signs of forced sexual activity, both vaginally and anally, presence of spermicidal lubricant, presence of micro-tears to the labia, presence of bruising to the inner thighs, forearms and neck, and of course ligature markings. The clinical findings support the victim’s account you relayed to me, Vicky. Unfortunately for us, the man wore a condom.’
Superb…
Vicky had been hoping McLean had been stupid enough to leave evidence. ‘But?’ She hoped there was one.
‘Well, we have recovered some pubic hairs.’
‘How is that good?’
‘Catriona is… well.’ Alison coughed. She looked down at her groin. ‘You know what kids are like these days. So I’m assuming it’s from her attacker.’
‘Not just kids...’ Vicky nodded, trying to encourage the nurse. She reached into her pocket for a stack of business cards, then flipped through until she found the right one. ‘Can you get in touch with Jenny Morgan about this? I want that DNA test fast-tracked.’
‘Sure thing.’ Alison stared at the card. ‘Do you know who her attacker is?’
‘I’ve got a good idea, yeah. Trouble is, it’s related to a murder tonight.’
‘The girl in the Ashworth’s car park?’
‘Right on the money.’
‘Oh my.’ Alison covered her yawn with her hand. ‘Well, I’ll speak to Ms Morgan right away.’
‘Thanks.’ Vicky tugged Alison back. ‘Can I speak to the victim?’
The firmest of nods. ‘By all means.’
‘Cheers.’ Vicky returned the kindness with a smile then slipped into the room.
Catriona was perched on the edge of the bed, staring at the TV, but it wasn’t on. Wearing comfy clothes – tight leggings and a baggie jumper with an inappropriate flower pattern. And she looked even younger than in her home, just a girl. She caught Vicky’s eye, then held her gaze.
Vicky stayed by the door, giving the girl some space. ‘How are you feeling?’
Catriona swallowed hard. ‘How do you expect me to feel?’
‘There’s no right way, Catriona. No wrong way, either. It’s your reaction to a horrific incident, nobody else’s.’
‘Have you caught him?’
‘I’ll need some help with that.’ Vicky reached into her pocket for her phone, but stopped short of unlocking it. ‘We can do it later, if—’
‘Now. Please.’
‘Just a sec.’ Vicky unlocked her phone and switched the phone to a voice memo app. ‘I’m going to record this for evidence.’ She started the app going, then found the secured email from Karen and opened it. Took a couple of steps and another password, but she was in.
Her screen filled with six faces, all men, mid-thirties. Stubble, dark hair. Some with long noses, some with open mouths.
‘This is DS Vicky Dodds. I am showing Ms Gordon photo exhibit A.’ Vicky held it out for Catriona, side-on to fit them all in. ‘I am going to show you some photographs and if you recognise any of them, please say so and tell me from where you recognise them.’ She flipped the first one.
Catriona shook her head.
Vicky flipped the page.
‘Him.’
Vicky took the phone back. That was Dougie McLean, the taxi driver still at large. ‘You’re sure?’ She held it out again.
Catriona looked at it much longer, her eyes shooting between the faces. ‘Positive. Dougie. He raped me.’
‘Thank you.’ Vicky held the phone between them. Her stomach clenched at the thought of McLean doing this to Catriona, then murdering Carly. Escalating from rape to murder in less than twenty-four hours. ‘Miss Gordon identified photo four of six, reference evidence set B.’
Catriona was frowning at Vicky. ‘Will you prosecute him?’
‘Once we’ve found him, we’ll try to.’
‘You mean, you haven’t got him?’
Vicky didn’t want to derail her, and didn’t want her to even consider any blame on herself. It happened so many times. And yet it never seemed to happen to men like Douglas McLean. Their sleep was always okay. No guilt, all transferred to their victims. Still, at least Catriona was alive to help them out.
‘I met him on an app. A dating one. Hook-up. Whatever it is. Thing called Poggr. You know it?’
‘I’ve heard of it, aye. What happened?’
‘That was the first time I’ve used that app.’ Catriona rubbed at her eyes and sniffed. ‘One of my friends uses it all the time. Casey. She swears by it. I did what she suggested and I liked lots of men. You know, you star them? So I liked his photo.’ She shut her eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. ‘He had a nice smile. That was it, just that. Then I got a message back that he’d liked my photo. He was the first who liked me back. And we messaged. He seemed nice. Friendly. Flirtatious, but respectful.’ She shook her head slowly, gasping for air. ‘We went for a drink yesterday afternoon, then he took me out for dinner to that restaurant in the new hotel on Dock Street. You know it?’
‘I know it.’ Vicky had an idea which one it was, but couldn’t remember the name. It was something to get Considine to look into.
‘Thing is, when we were eating? I liked him. A lot. So I invited him back to my flat. He drove and… When we got back, I changed my mind. But he… He kept insisting on coming in for a coffee.’
‘Did you let him in?’
Catriona scratched at her face again. ‘I told him no. Told him to leave.’
‘Did he?’
‘Acted all gentlemanly about it. Hands up, you know how it is? And I thought that was it.’
‘But?’
‘But I got a knock on the door. Maybe fifteen minutes later. It was dark, and I didn’t see who it was, just got punched. Again and again. Kept on doing it.’ She leaned forward in the bed, hands covering her face. ‘I tried screaming, but he covered my mouth with his hand. And he forced me inside my flat. I kept saying no, but he didn’t listen.’ Snot bubbled in her nose. ‘He tried to strangle me. With his belt.’ She lowered her gown to show a dark brown line biting deep into the flesh around her neck. ‘Then he got the charger cable from my laptop and tied my wrists together. And then he raped me.’
The room was deadly silent.
Vicky felt her heartbeat throbbing in her neck. ‘Did you see him at all?’
‘It was dark.’
Shit.
Vicky stood up and cleared her throat. ‘But you think it was the man you identified?’
Catriona needled fingers into her eye sockets. ‘I don’t know if it was.’
‘And you haven’t seen him again?’
‘I never want to.’
‘Okay, Catriona.’ Vicky didn’t add that she’d have to when it came to court.
Catriona was looking up at Vicky with doe eyes. ‘You think it was someone else, don’t you?’
‘No. But we’ve got forensic evidence from your attacker. If it wasn’t him, we will find who it was. We’ll do everything we can to track him down.’
Catriona nodded. ‘Thank you.’
‘Okay.’ Vicky ended the recording, but held her phone. ‘I’m going to get back to the case now, alright? There are two officers guarding your flat, waiting for our forensics offic
ers to attend.’
‘He’s going to get away with this, isn’t he?’
‘No, Catriona. He’s not. Everything he touched in the house is being swabbed. Part of the Sexual Assault Evidence Kit, as well.’
‘But he wore a…’
‘Even wearing a condom, he is going to leave epithelial cells from his chest and abdomen on you, okay? They will contain his DNA. And there is other evidence. Your laptop cable, for instance, will contain fingerprints at the very least. But I won’t rest until we find who did this to you.’
‘Thank you.’
Vicky gave her a kind smile, then left the room. The cleaner was outside the room now, a skinny wee guy pushing the machine around, massive hi-fi headphones clamped to his skull. He was small enough he could ride on it.
She charged off down the corridor, putting her ringing phone to her ear.
Jenny answered it super-quickly. ‘Vicks, I’ve just got off the phone to that nurse, so how the hell do you expect me to have even got the sample, let alone processed it? Besides, I’m—’
‘That’s not why I’m calling.’
‘Oh?’
‘Are you at Catriona Gordon’s flat?’
‘It’s more a house than a flat. It’s got stairs and—’
‘But you’re there. Good. Can you look for a laptop cable? Her attacker used it to secure her.’
‘Okay.’ Jenny’s voice became muffled, just a shout. All Vicky could make out was the word “Jay”. Then she was back. ‘Vicks, just got a notification on your guy.’
‘What guy?’
‘McLean’s phone’s just been turned on.’
12
Vicky turned onto the main road leading towards the Law, hitting the accelerator hard, desperate to get there first. The car slid on the ice and she had to drag the wheel to stop it sliding up onto the verge. A long way down from up here, the lights of the city twinkling in the freezing night. Regardless, she powered on, but put her headlights on full beam to catch any more patches of black ice.
Up ahead, the monument was lit up by a high-powered torch, dancing across the stone.
Two cars sat in the small roundabout encircling it.