by John Carson
‘What sort of pattern?’ Harry asked.
‘On the curve between the thumb and the index finger there was a cut on one of the girls. You wouldn’t even look at it twice, and I didn’t either. Until I saw the second one. Then on a third, there was a cut along the edge of the index finger and one along the thumb. I didn’t know it at first, but he posed the hand, because I saw it again later in a different photo. The hand was put into a fist, with the thumb across the index finger. With a little bit of a stretch, the two lines make an X.’
‘That is a little bit of a stretch,’ Dunbar said.
‘Until you take one letter C, then take another one and invert it, and put the X in the middle. Join them up, you have the symbol for infinity.’
Evans had taken a notebook out and drawn the letters. He showed Dunbar the infinity symbol.
‘What does this mean in relation to our killer?’ Dunbar asked.
‘I have no idea. It’s just the way my mind works. It might be nothing at all, and it probably isn’t or else somebody else would have spotted it.’
‘Did you tell anybody else about this?’ Harry asked.
‘I did. Me old boss. He laughed at me. Told me I was burnt-out. Said he would be the bleedin’ laughin’ stock upstairs if he went to them with this. I didn’t talk about it again.’
Dunbar sat back in his chair and tilted his head back for a moment, stretching his neck.
‘Let me get this straight: this killer, and let’s just call him Infinity for the sake of clarity, he comes back here when the Christmas Land fair is on, kills three women and then…what? Leaves? Kills somewhere else? And why did he kill the young woman the other day? Because she got away the first time?’
‘That’s exactly it,’ said Whitman. ‘Two other women were killed. She was attacked but got away. Now he kills her.’
‘Why now?’ Evans said. ‘Why six years later?’
But they knew. Or they thought they knew.
‘Martin Blair just got out of the hospital,’ Dunbar said. ‘He found the first one, didn’t find the second one. Now he’s back and a third one is killed, all of them friends. He’s too young to have killed the women back in the day. He’s thirty, which make him only just born when the killings started.’
‘True. I don’t think he’s the killer, but I think he’s connected somehow, maybe even without him realising it,’ Whitman said.
‘How come you were near Carol when she was murdered?’ Harry asked.
‘Because I was following her. She was at Christmas Land and I was there, keeping an eye on her. I thought he would go for her. Then I lost sight of her. I looked all around, then when I went to the edge of the market, I saw her going into the woods and somebody was in front of her. She was going in as if she knew her killer. By the time I got there, she was hanging from the tree.’
‘There was blood on the trail.’
‘Not from me. I tried to get her down, but then I heard the dog coming and I took off. I didn’t think they would believe me and I can’t afford to be locked up. I need to be out here helping you people. I’m retired. Nobody gives a shit about the killings because they don’t know they’re happening. Yes, you lot do, but if you don’t solve this case, it will go cold, just like the others, and he’ll lay low, coming here every Christmas and making deaths look like accidents. He’ll never get caught. This is my last chance to catch him.’
‘There’s something different in your pattern,’ Harry said. ‘If Carol was the third friend who was murdered six years later, then she’s the last one, not the first one.’
‘Two trains of thought here. One, he waited six years because he wanted to involve Martin Blair and he killed her to end that cycle. Two, he just killed her because in his mind he has OCD and he has to end it. Get it out of the way. Now he’s going to start a new cycle.’
‘Why is he leaving it so late in the month to do it?’ Harry asked.
‘Oh, sorry, I forgot to mention that. He kills between Christmas and New Year. Which means if we discount Carol, then three women are going to die this week.’
Twenty-Seven
Harry had just poured himself a coffee when he got the phone call. He answered it and looked at Jimmy Dunbar and shook his head.
‘What do you mean, not there?’ He listened again before hanging up.
‘What’s wrong, Harry?’ Dunbar asked.
‘It’s Alex. She’s missing.’
Dunbar and Evans were on their feet in a split second. ‘What do you mean?’
‘That’s all they would say on the phone. I have to go over there.’
‘Where are you staying?’ Dunbar asked Whitman.
‘A little hotel on Main Street.’
‘Give Muckle your mobile number. We need to keep in touch. And don’t go doing anything stupid. It might get you killed.’ Dunbar turned to Harry and Evans. ‘Let’s go.’
Harry gave Whitman his warrant card back.
The drive to the hospital took ten minutes. None of them talked on the short trip, except for Harry thinking out loud: ‘How the hell can she be missing?’
Dunbar stopped near the front of the hospital and Harry walked up to the front desk.
‘I’m DCI Harry McNeil. I got a call from Dr Carter.’
‘He’s expecting you. He’ll meet you on the second floor.’
They took the lift up and Carter was waiting outside a small room that was designated for telling relatives that their loved one wasn’t leaving the hospital alive. There were two little couches and some framed prints on the wall. Later on, Harry would remember one, a vase with flowers in it.
‘Please, sit down,’ Carter said, a grim look on his face.
‘I don’t want to fucking sit down,’ Harry said.
Carter looked at the three men and decided it might be better if he were the one sitting.
‘I can’t explain what happened. Your wife was wheeled down to the radiology department for her scan and the porter left her there. When the radiologist came out, Mrs McNeil was gone.’
‘Gone? I don’t understand this. Fucking gone? What does that even mean?’
‘There was no sign of her. The wheelchair she was taken downstairs in was found round the back in the staff car park.’
‘Somebody took her?’ Dunbar said, starting to get pissed off at the man’s touchy-feely voice.
‘We’re not sure. I mean, she might have wheeled herself out and left.’
‘Don’t talk pish,’ Dunbar said. ‘Is her stuff still in her room? Her clothes and personal belongings?’
‘They are. She had her phone with her. The porter saw it in her lap when he wheeled her down.’
‘The porter? He was the last one to see her?’
‘He was.’
‘Where is the bastard?’ Harry said.
‘Let’s not jump to conclusions. He wheeled her down, then he was back on the ward five minutes later.’
‘Oh, fucking barry,’ Evans said. ‘That gave him time to wheel her out to his car, stick her in the boot and come back in.’
‘Now, look, we can’t go accusing anybody of anything,’ Carter said.
‘Give us five minutes with the cunt and we’ll find out for sure if he did something to her,’ Dunbar said.
‘Now listen here –’
Dunbar put a hand up. ‘Cut the righteous shite out. You’re on a hiding to nothing here, pal. You lost not only a patient but one of us. His wife. If I were you, I’d be worrying about whether I still had a career or not.’
‘What about cameras?’ Harry said.
‘We don’t have them inside,’ said Carter. ‘Only at the front door. The back door isn’t covered. The staff car park isn’t covered. We don’t have a lot of crime here.’
Dunbar turned to Evans. ‘Get on the phone and get this place swarming with uniforms. Everybody they can spare. I want witness statements, anything that might shed some light on what happened here.’
Evans nodded and left the room.
Harry took o
ut his phone and called Alex’s number. It went to voicemail. ‘Alex, if you can hear this, I love you. I’m coming for you.’
He felt cold and numb. ‘Why would anybody take her? Up here, in this pissant town?’
‘I’ve already told staff that they have to cooperate in any way possible with you,’ Carter said.
‘I want to speak to that porter,’ Dunbar said.
Carter nodded and left the room.
‘Why, Jimmy? Why would somebody take her?’
‘I think we know why, pal. Something to do with this case. They’re warning us off. I’ve seen it before.’
‘Did it end well?’
‘Luckily, it did. But the DI running the case ended up leaving the force. His confidence was shot.’
‘I’m not running away from this,’ said Harry. ‘If that fucking Blair family has anything to do with this, I’ll take them all out and they can shove this job.’
Carter came back with the big porter.
‘This is Lewis.’
‘Sorry to hear about your wife, sir. I swear to God, I just took her down to the radiology department and left her there. There was nobody else about. I got back in the lift and came back up here.’
‘Nobody else at all?’
‘Only one of the domestic staff. She was in the lift and came out with a cart full of sheets.’
‘What did she look like?’
‘Dark hair. I didn’t get a look at her face. She had a huge pile of towels on top of the sheets and had one arm up supporting it. It looked like it was going to tumble. She could hardly see over the top.’
‘Hiding her face,’ Dunbar said. ‘Did you see her again?’
‘No, just that one time. But to be honest, we’re so busy taking patients to departments and picking them up again, I didn’t think about it again.’
‘Thanks, son. If you remember anything else, give us a shout.’
‘Will do.’ Lewis stopped before he left the room. ‘Am I in trouble?’
‘No. This wasn’t your fault,’ Dunbar answered.
Harry hoped he wouldn’t have to come back and ask this man what his wife’s last words had been.
Lewis left.
‘You said you had security cameras at the front of the hospital,’ Dunbar said.
Carter nodded.
‘Take me to your security office.’
‘I’m not sure of the legality,’ Carter replied.
‘Maybe I’m not making myself clear, son, because I come from Glasgow and people think we have a strong accent, so I’m going to speak slowly for your benefit. Take me to that fucking office now…or you’ll be lucky if you can write a prescription for Smarties by the time I’m finished with you. And that man there? He’s the one who will do the physical stuff.’
‘Is that a threat?’
‘Heid first down the stairs or oot a fucking window. That’ll be your next move.’
‘Jesus. Is that how they operate where you come from? Acting like thugs?’
‘Now you’re fucking getting it. Back home, I have to deal with a lot of hard bastards who would eat you for breakfast. Security office. Now.’
Carter tutted and led them out and along a corridor. Evans followed them down to the main level just as the first of the uniforms arrived, including Sergeant Lamb.
‘Make sure he goes nowhere,’ Dunbar instructed, pointing to Carter. ‘And round up the domestic staff. We’re looking for one with long, dark hair who took linens down to the back of the building.’
In the security office, two men were there, one watching the monitors, the other on the phone.
‘There’s no sign of her, sir,’ the older one said.
‘Pull up the footage from the front,’ Harry said. ‘Around the time my wife went missing. Anything coming from the staff car park round the back.’
‘Absolutely. We were told she went missing around ten-ish. I’ll start from nine forty-five and see what we’ve got.’
The three detectives watched the main monitor like they were watching Scotland live in the World Cup final. A truck came round from the back with a food service company name on the side. Fast-forward to just after ten and another truck came out. This time it was a linen company.
‘Stop there,’ Harry said. ‘Zoom in.’
The company logo was clearly visible.
Dunbar turned to Evans. ‘Call and see who was driving that vehicle.’
‘Sir.’ Evans left the office.
‘Roll the tape again,’ Harry said.
The truck left the car park, and a few minutes later a hearse left.
‘Thanks.’ Harry turned to Dunbar. ‘I want that Lewis guy to show us where he left Alex.’
Dunbar looked at the security man. ‘Can you get in touch with him? Porter named Lewis.’
‘Aye, no bother. They carry walkies on them.’ He put out the message and Lewis got back to him.
‘Security office need you, pal.’
Five minutes later, Lewis was in the office.
‘Show us where you left Mrs McNeil.’
‘Absolutely. This way.’ He led them out into the corridor and along to the lifts. Evans followed them.
Dunbar waved a uniform over. ‘Come with us.’
‘The driver’s back at the warehouse,’ said Evans. ‘He filled up with this load and went straight back. Other workers unloaded the baskets. Then the driver went out again.’
‘Right, Robbie. Go and track him down. He might have seen something.’
Evans nodded and left.
Twenty-Eight
Downstairs, Lewis showed Harry and Dunbar where he had wheeled Alex to and left her.
‘This is the spot. They sit along from the door, so they don’t get bumped by somebody getting wheeled out, and then the tech comes out and gets them. They’re notified when a patient is coming down, so they know somebody is waiting.’
Dunbar turned to the uniform. ‘Speak with the tech.’ To Lewis: ‘Man or woman?’
‘Woman.’
To the uniform again. ‘Ask her what she saw when she came out to get Mrs McNeil.’
The uniform went into the radiology suite.
‘Show us what’s down here,’ Harry said, pointing to a corridor at the end of this one. It bent round to the right and disappeared from view.
‘It’s the mortuary down here,’ Lewis said, and Harry got a sudden bad feeling in his gut.
They walked down, nobody else around, their footsteps echoing off the walls. This corridor was dimly lit. They followed it down, Harry beginning to have the feeling he always got when he went to a mortuary.
They turned left and the corridor was brighter here. A door with a security bar was on the right-hand side.
‘That leads to the staff car park,’ Lewis said.
They walked past it and turned left into a short corridor with a set of rubber doors. They went through and the antiseptic smell was strong.
‘This is the mortuary.’
Dunbar nodded. ‘We came in through the back door and spoke to a young lassie, Stacey,’ he said.
‘She’s nice. Old Doc Hamilton is a pain, though.’ Lewis kept his voice down.
As if by magic, Stacey Nichols came round. ‘Hello again.’ She smiled at them but then saw how serious they were. ‘Anything wrong?’
‘One of our officers is missing,’ Dunbar said. ‘Last seen along at radiology.’
‘Oh my God. What’s happened? Is it the nice young bloke you were with?’
‘No, it’s my wife,’ said Harry. ‘You met her the other night.’
‘Oh God. That’s awful.’
‘If she was brought along here by somebody, how easy would it have been for them to get her out?’ Dunbar asked.
‘She wasn’t kicking and screaming, that’s for sure, or I would have heard. I know we play the radio in there sometimes, but if there was anybody struggling, that would have got our attention.’ She thought for a moment. ‘There are always domestics coming down here. They go along that little
corridor there to the roller door. A truck backs up and takes the stuff away. Like in, oh, I don’t know what they’re called, but big laundry baskets on wheels. Somebody could have been in one.’
‘We have somebody going to talk to the linen company driver right now.’
‘He comes late morning for our stuff. He brings fresh laundry and takes the dirty stuff away,’ Stacey said.
‘Any of the staff leave here?’
‘Not that I know of. What time was it around?’
‘Ten,’ Harry said.
‘No. The boys went out to a sudden death earlier, but they were back before nine with the body. Then there was Anderson Birrell. He came with a hearse and took a body away. I have the paperwork. Sorry I couldn’t be more helpful.’
‘You’ve been more than helpful.’ Harry put a hand on her arm, more to steady himself than anything else.
‘You okay?’ she asked just as Dunbar stepped in and took Harry by the arm.
‘I’m fine. I just haven’t eaten this morning.’
‘I’ve got him, hen.’
‘Look, bring him into the office and get him seated,’ said Stacey.
‘I’ll be fine,’ Harry said, but the room swam for a moment.
‘We know how you Edinburgh softies like to sit down and have a cup of tea every five minutes,’ Dunbar said.
They went into a small office.
‘Dr Hamilton is out on a call with the boys and the van,’ said Stacey. ‘She’ll be a while. Let me get the kettle on.’
‘You don’t have to go to that trouble,’ Harry said.
‘No trouble. I’ll make us a brew. I was going on break anyway. I can give you tea, but wouldn’t you know it, the greedy old sod has eaten all the biscuits again.’
‘Dr Hamilton doesn’t look like the kind who would fill herself up on biscuits,’ Dunbar said.
‘No, not her, old Doc Renfrew. He eats our biscuits.’
‘Who’s Renfrew?’ Dunbar asked. He and Harry looked at her.
‘He used to be the pathologist here, apparently, until he had a heart attack. You’d think he would know better. He’s only sixty, Dr Hamilton said. He looks a lot older. Obviously, he doesn’t look after himself. I’ve only been here a couple of months, so I didn’t work with him. He’s only up here for Christmas and New Year. He lives down south now. But he can’t keep away from the place. I mean, he was in here this morning and all the bloody biscuits are gone.’