Stuart MacBride - In the Cold Dark Ground

Katie dug her nails into the tabletop. Stared at them as the quicks went white. ‘All those lies about how much he loved me. I’d be homeless . Poor. What kind of man does that?’

‘What happened to the money, Katie?’

She turned and blinked at her solicitor. ‘Barney?’

‘I’m sorry,’ her solicitor shook his head, ‘but I don’t think I can represent you any more.’

‘OK, let’s forget about the money for now.’ Logan eased his hand across the table, until it lay next to hers. ‘Do you want to tell us what happened in the house tonight?’

Outside, someone thumped along the corridor, setting the floor creaking.

The radiator pinged and gurgled.

Harper shifted in her seat.

Then Katie Milne brought her head back around and sighed.

‘It’s OK.’ Logan took her hand. It was cool and dry. ‘You can talk to us.’

‘No comment.’

‘Next.’ Logan pointed and Isla clicked the mouse, bringing up a picture of a little girl in a pink frock. All gaptoothed smile and pigtails. ‘Isabella Cameron. They had to amputate her right arm and it’ll take years to reconstruct her face.’

Tufty stuck his chin out. ‘I’ve been doing the rounds of the pubs. Seems there’s a new dog-fighting ring in the area. Mastiffs, bull terriers, Staffordshires, anything big and compact.’

‘Stay on it. Whoever’s responsible, I want their balls in a vice by Friday, understand? Calamity, you help him.’

‘Sarge.’

‘Next.’

A click and the little girl was replaced by an elderly woman with about twice as much skin as any normal human being had a right to, all folded and creased.

Isla groaned. ‘I thought they gave her fourteen months?’

‘That’s right, campers: Mrs Wyatt’s out on parole again. Make sure every shop between here and Macduff knows to keep an eye out. Isla: get a grade-one flag put on her ex-husband’s flat. Last thing we need is another geriatric war. And while we’re at it, when—’

There was a knock on the door and a skeletal face appeared. Inspector Gibb — Napier’s sidekick, his own private Renfield. Responsible for making the odd cup of tea, taking notes, eating bugs, and shifting coffins. ‘Sergeant McRae? Chief Superintendent Napier would like a word soon as you’re free.’

He checked his watch. Ten past five, the shift had barely started. Surprised Napier had waited this long. ‘Constable Anderson can finish the briefing.’

Logan followed Gibb out into the corridor, back straight, arms swinging at his side. Off to meet his doom.

Through the main office, out and up the stairs.

Gibb didn’t say a single word until they were standing outside the Major Incident Room on the top floor. ‘You have the right to have a Federation representative present, if you wish?’

What was the point?

‘Let’s get this over with.’

She opened the door and ushered him inside.

Napier sat at the head of the table, with the windows behind him. A china cup in a china saucer on one side and a pad and pen on the other. He motioned to the chair diagonally opposite. ‘Sergeant McRae.’

Logan lowered himself into the seat. It faced a small digital camcorder on a tripod, the little red light already on. Nothing off the record today.

OK.

Inspector Gibb closed the door then took the seat next to the camera, notepad out. A nod from Napier and she opened it to a fresh page. ‘Sergeant Logan McRae, can you confirm that you’ve been offered Federation representation and declined it.’

‘Yes.’

‘Thank you. Now: where were you last night, Sergeant?’

Logan pulled his chin in and frowned. ‘Last night?’ OK, wasn’t expecting that. ‘We were on lateshift till three this morning. Why?’

‘I see. And after that?’

‘We went to Constable Nicholson’s house to celebrate.’

‘Celebrate what, Sergeant McRae?’

‘Constables Quirrel and Anderson caught Wee Wullie McConnell. We’ve been after him for months.’ He sat forward. ‘Look what is this all about?’

‘And when did this celebration end?’

‘I don’t know. Couple of hours? The baker’s was open on Seafield Street, so had to be gone five. I got a chicken curry pie.’

‘I see. Thank you, Sergeant.’ She reached up and switched the camcorder off. ‘Now, would anyone like a cup of tea?’

Napier gifted her a smile. ‘Thank you, Shona. Sergeant McRae takes milk, no sugar.’

And they were back in Creepytown.

As soon as she was gone, Napier opened a folder and took out some blurry stills from a security camera. ‘Reuben Kennedy went missing from Aberdeen Royal Infirmary last night, between the hours of three and four.’

A couple of indistinct figures were caught in the act of manoeuvring a wheelchair down the corridor away from the camera. The wheelchair’s occupant was a big man, rounded, powerful looking.

Oh that was just great. Spectacular.

Reuben was missing.

Sodding, buggering, bastarding hell.

‘Are you all right, Logan? You’ve gone rather pale.’

‘I... didn’t know Reuben had a last name.’

‘According to his doctors, he’d regained consciousness. Confused and unable to talk, but awake and alive.’ Napier held up a hand. ‘Don’t worry, we’re keeping an eye on all the ports to make sure he doesn’t flee the country.’

Oh they wouldn’t have to worry about that. Reuben wouldn’t be going anywhere until Logan and Harper were pig food.

‘Speaking of Mr Kennedy, you will be pleased to know that we’ve concluded our investigation into the incidents of the seventeenth. Both you and Detective Superintendent Harper have been cleared of any wrongdoing, which I’m sure will be a weight off your mind. There may even be a commendation in the offing.’

What?

He didn’t move. Didn’t dare. ‘Thank you, sir.’

‘Of course, it would have been nice if we could have persuaded Mr Jones to turn on his employers, but you know what these career criminals are like.’

Gavin Jones, AKA: Jonesy, AKA: Mr Teeth.

Oh thank God.

Maybe he wasn’t going to prison after all?

Napier steepled his fingers and leaned forward. ‘I have to say, Logan, that I was impressed by your handling of the investigation into DCI Steel. There were those who predicted you’d try to cover up for her. Conceal the evidence. But you didn’t.’

Logan blinked at him. ‘You knew all along, didn’t you? You set me up.’

‘As I told you when we took our bracing walk, “You’re an honest man, Logan McRae.”’

‘You already had the proof, but you wanted to see if I’d find it and bring it to you.’

‘A test. Yes.’ He held his arms wide. ‘And you passed, as I always knew you would.’ He let his arms fall. ‘DCI Steel arrested one Lawrence Collins a year ago for possession of indecent images of children. He had over five thousand of them on three different computers, more on an assortment of CDs and flash drives. The usual filth, where the abusers keep their faces covered.’ Napier chewed on his cheek for a moment, frowning. ‘Dundee University have a team who can analyse photographs for the vein patterns on the back of offenders’ hands, or on their penises. Unique as a fingerprint, apparently. They were working their way through Collins’s images, trying to cross-reference and identify the abusers, when they noticed something. A subset of the pictures were identical to ones they’d already processed: the images Steel “found” on Jack Wallace’s laptop.’

‘Wallace and this Collins were part of the same ring.’

‘So Dundee passed the information to the Child Abuse Investigation Unit, and when they interviewed Collins about it, he wanted to cut a deal. Time off his sentence for information about the detective chief inspector he’d supplied with a flash drive full of child pornography and information on how to plant it on someone’s computer.’