Stuart MacBride - In the Cold Dark Ground

Tiny creases appeared between her eyebrows. ‘Why are you still a sergeant?’

‘Say, fifteen minutes to grab something from the vending machines? Then I’ll get McDowell into number three.’

‘You should be a DI by now, at the very least. You’re three times the cop that wrinkly disaster is.’

Logan shrugged, then headed towards the stairs. ‘Tried being a DI once, didn’t like it. Either you’re a dick and make someone else do all your paperwork and rosters, or you’ve got sod-all time to do any investigating.’

She shook her head, following him up to the canteen. ‘You really do take after Dad, don’t you?’

‘No idea.’

Dark fields whipped past the Big Car’s windows, banks of grey snow lining the road.

Sitting in the passenger seat, Steel didn’t bother to stifle the yawn that made her head look like a flip-top bin. ‘Knackered.’

‘Well you should have gone home when I said, shouldn’t you?’ Logan pressed the button on his Airwave. ‘Sergeant McRae to Constable Nicholson, safe to talk?’

There was a pause, then, ‘ Aye, aye, Sarge. ’

‘How’s it going, Calamity?’

‘ Like a grave. Not a creature is stirring, not even a druggy. Must be the weather. ’

‘Good. Tufty behaving himself on his last night in nappies?’

‘ He’s brought in fancy pieces. And I mean, really fancy. ’

Steel thumped Logan on the arm. ‘Make sure they save some for us. I’m starving. Had nothing to eat but two packs of Wotsits and a Toffee Crisp since midnight.’

‘Wanted to check in and make sure everything was all right.’

‘ Thanks, Dad. ’

‘We’ll be back in time for threeses.’ He let go of the button.

The tarmac glittered with frost that flared in the headlights then disappeared back into the night.

Steel dug her hands into her armpits. ‘Have you got a deep-fat fryer back at the house?’

‘No.’

‘Chip pan?’

‘No.’

‘What kind of Scotsman are you?’

More fields.

They drifted through the limits at Crudie, dropping to fifty. Not that there was much of it: the place was little more than a scattering of houses spread out along the road. If it weren’t for the dirty big signs at either end with ‘CRUDIE ~ P LEASE D RIVE C AREFULLY ’ on them you’d barely know it was there.

Logan glanced across the car. ‘I saw the interview, by the way. You and Jack Wallace.’

‘Oh aye?’

‘Seemed like a lovely man. You know, apart from all the sexual assaults and treating women like they’re punchbags.’

‘Wallace is a prince all right.’ She shook her head. Then turned and stared at Logan. ‘You’re Napier’s bitch now, aren’t you?’

‘Well what did you want me to do, refuse to help him? That wouldn’t look suspicious, would it? At least this way I’m on the inside, I can... finesse things.’

She slid further down in her seat, then plonked both feet up on the dashboard. ‘Blah, blah, blah.’

‘Look, Napier says he’d be just as happy exonerating you. And it’s not like you actually did anything, is it?’

No reply.

Logan glanced at her again. ‘Did you?’

‘Course I didn’t.’ She pursed her lips and hummed for bit. ‘Once upon a time, in the fabled granite city of Aberdeen, there lived a man named Jack Wallace. Now Jack Wallace wasn’t a very nice man, in fact he was a complete and utter bastard. He liked to attack women, beat, and rape them. It made him feel big and clever.’ Steel turned her face to the window. ‘One sunny evening in May, Wallace drugged and raped a seventeen-year-old girl called Rosalyn Cooper. And if that wasn’t bad enough, he filmed it on his phone and used it to blackmail her into a “relationship”.’ Steel made quote marks with her fingers. ‘So he could keep on raping and battering her without having to bother shelling out for drugs.’

Logan tightened his grip on the steering wheel. ‘He filmed it?’

‘Now Rosalyn thought her mother and father would blame her for the attack, and they would throw her out of the house and never speak to her again. And Wallace told her everyone would call her a slut and a whore and she’d never get a job or any friends ever again. And she was so scared and traumatized, she actually believed him.’

Steel dug out her e-cigarette and took a long slow drag, setting the tip glowing bright blue. ‘Then one day, a brave knight rode in on a big white horse with a sharny arse, and she said, “Come on, Rosalyn, you’re no’ to blame here. It’s that scumbag Wallace who’s at fault. We’ll do him for rape and make sure he gets locked away for years and years and years.” But Rosalyn was too scared to press charges, because if she did it would all come out and her parents would know and they’d never love her again. And the brave knight told her they could get round that. They could make it work. But she was too scared.’

‘What happened?’

Steel blew a line of steam at the windscreen. ‘It wasn’t even the first time he’d done it. The first poor cow he filmed ended up in a secure ward doped up to the ears because spiders kept crawling out of her fingertips. Completely — and utterly — broken.’ A small laugh broke free, but there was no humour in it. ‘So Rosalyn did the only thing that made sense to her: she climbed into a very hot bath with a bottle of vodka and a craft knife. Her little brother found her next morning. Apparently he sees a therapist twice a week now.’

More fields.

They passed the turn-off to Gardenstown.

Logan shook his head. ‘So get a search warrant, find the phone, and show the footage to the Procurator Fiscal! Get the scumbag charged.’

‘You really think I’ve no’ tried that? Can’t get a warrant on the word of a dead girl.’ Another line of steam hit the windscreen. ‘And even if I could, what’d that prove? She’s drugged in the video: she’s no’ fighting back, and it’s no’ as if she can testify in court, is it? We’d never get a conviction.’

More fields — wide, flat and rolling beneath the icy moonlight.

‘Tell you, Laz, I’ve never had a better day than when I turned up at Wallace’s house to give him a hard time and found a ton of kiddy porn just sitting there on his laptop.’ This time the laugh had a lot more joy in it. ‘I mean, a slideshow for God’s sake! Wee shite was probably gearing up for a good wank when I turned up and spoiled the romantic mood. And now he’s got six years of spanking his raping wee monkey cock in a prison cell. Assuming he can get it up without staring at images of abused kids, or beating the crap out of some poor woman. Serves him right.’

Hard to argue with that.

Steel grinned across the car at him. ‘You know what? I’m in such a good mood I’m even prepared to put up with oven chips, if you’ve got any?’

Logan peered out of the bedroom window at the street below. Steel wound her way along the road, having had to settle for cheese on toast and a large Balvenie instead. When she’d disappeared from view, he shut the curtains and pulled out his mobile.

Dialled John Urquhart.

The phone rang and rang and rang. Then finally, ‘ Mmmph? Hello? What? ’

‘You can tell Reuben the delivery’s off.’

‘ What? Who’s... ’ A cough rattled out of the earpiece. ‘ Mr McRae? What time is it? ’

Logan’s eyes flicked to the clock-radio — 03:32. ‘The delivery’s off. Stevie Fowler got himself arrested in a drugs raid four hours ago.’

Urquhart yawned, then swore. ‘ He got himself arrested? ’

‘He was never going to deliver the package, it was all a scam so he could steal the drugs and sell them to a local dealer.’