Alex Gray - Glasgow Kiss

‘That’s where they all go to catch the school bus,’ Miss Lindsay told them, pointing downwards. ‘You can’t see it from here; it’s a few yards along the main road.’

‘So all the parents would be out of sight,’ Weir said, looking over the old lady’s shoulder.

‘That’s right,’ she agreed, turning to face him, her eyes bright with suppressed excitement. ‘They’d all gone by then and the wee ones were playing just at the close mouth. I could see Sally MacIlwraith with Nancy and some of the other children when the woman drove up in the car. Perhaps I was the only one to see what happened,’ she added hopefully.

‘We haven’t completed all our visits,’ Weir told her sharply.

Annie gritted her teeth in annoyance at her colleague when she saw Miss Lindsay’s face fall. That was no way to gain the confidence of a witness. DC Weir might be her senior in CID by a few months but it hadn’t given him better people skills.

‘Perhaps you were,’ Annie encouraged her. ‘Now can you tell us exactly what you saw?’

‘Well,’ the old woman looked a bit doubtful now, ‘you can only see the tops of heads from here, of course, but I could see it was a woman right enough. She looked young. Had red hair, the sort that comes out of a bottle. Bright, you know what I mean. What d’you call that stuff?’ She had turned to Annie now, her hand flapping back and forth as if she were holding an invisible wand that would magically bring back the forgotten word.

‘Henna?’ Annie suggested.

‘That’s right, really bright and shiny her hair was, and curly, quite long too.’ She brushed her shoulders lightly. ‘Down to here, I’d say.’

‘Did you get a look at her face?’ Weir asked.

‘No, I told you, you can’t see from up here. Not unless they look up. And she didn’t. She just bent down to Nancy. I thought she was just talking to the child’, she added, turning to the policewoman, ‘but then she picked her up and put her into the car. It all happened so quickly, I thought Nancy must have known her. That it was meant.’ She swung back to Weir, an imploring expression in her eyes. ‘How was I to know the woman was a stranger?’

‘So it wasn’t until you heard the news that you realised what you had seen?’

Annie’s eyes sparked angrily at the patronising sound in Weir’s voice. He obviously thought that Miss Lindsay was nothing more than an attention-seeking timewaster. The old lady’s mouth hung open, an expression of horror on her face.

‘You mean if I had let someone know-?’

‘Don’t worry.’ Annie patted her shoulder, glad that the woman had misinterpreted Weir’s insinuation. ‘You’ve let us know now. That’s what matters. Now, do you think you might recognise the car she was driving?’

Detective Constable Irvine looked as if she were seething as she sat beside her neighbour. The rest of the team had come up with zilch so Dorothea Lindsay’s witness statement was all that they had to add to Sally MacIlwraith’s version of events. So far Weir had rubbished the old lady’s account, laying it on thick how decrepit she was and that she was, in his opinion, simply milking the situation for her own benefit.

‘What was your impression, DC Irvine?’ Lorimer spoke quietly, neither dismissing Weir’s report nor obviously deferring to the other officer.

‘I thought she was telling the truth,’ Annie blurted out. ‘It made sense. All the other parents were down at the bus stop or in the back court. Young Sally said as much too, didn’t she?’

‘But there was no mention of red hair. Surely the kid would have remembered that detail?’ Weir protested.

‘She certainly hasn’t picked out any specific types from all the images she’s been shown,’ DS Wilson added.

‘We could try again. See what she makes of pictures of red-headed women,’ Annie suggested, ‘including ones with henna-dyed hair.’

‘Right.’ Lorimer smiled. ‘That’s an action for you to follow up, DC Irvine.’ He nodded towards her, seeing a blush of pleasure spread across the woman’s face. Any detail like this was vital in the early stages of a case; it narrowed the huge area of possibilities into something a bit more manageable.

‘We’ve had several sightings of a white Mazda hatchback that was in the area. I want each and every one of you to see if there are any links between the owners of these cars and the list of women under investigation,’ Lorimer rapped out. Members of his team looked back at him, each face sombre. Some cases gave rise to a modicum of levity, but never one involving a child.

‘The search has spread out now to the woods next to Dawsholm Park and the Vet School. We’re still hoping that she might be found safe and well,’ he added grimly. ‘Right. Everyone report back here by five o’clock. Tomorrow’s press conference will include a live televised plea from the child’s mother. If she’s still missing,’ Lorimer added. He gave a curt nod before the officers dispersed. Anyone looking his way might see a flint-faced senior detective simply dishing out orders, but those who knew him better could sense his anguish. Childless himself, Lorimer could nonetheless empathise with the agony of loss that the young mother was going through. And he could even understand how another woman, deranged with grief, might have snatched little Nancy Fraser away from her own home. Hadn’t he seen Maggie go through the terrible pain of miscarriage, time and time again? Each one harder than the last until their decision to leave things as they were — a marriage where there would never be any babies now.

Julie Donaldson linked her arms with her pal, pulling her towards the shrubbery.

‘Got something to tell you.’ She smirked, watching Sam’s face as the two girls walked out of earshot from the rest of their group. Morning break had brought the pupils out to the playground in huddles; some younger boys were kicking a football about whereas the girls were mostly grouped together in chattering cliques, sly glances being cast at anyone outside their orbit.

‘What is it?’ Sam Wetherby shrugged off her friend’s hand, dropping her school bag onto the ground. ‘Did you get off with someone at SU camp, then?’ she said, rolling her eyes.

Julie’s dark eyes snapped. ‘What’s it with you and Scripture Union?’

‘Och, nothing. Keep your hair on.’ Sam attempted a smile as she saw Julie’s mood change. The last thing she wanted was her pal going off in the huff with her. ‘Come on, then, tell us what it is.’

‘Shouldn’t really,’ Julie mumbled. ‘Might get him into trouble.’

‘Jules!’ Sam squealed. ‘Don’t tell me! You’ve done it, haven’t you? I mean, really done it?’ Sam’s eyes were on her friend’s face now, a mixture of awe and anticipation in their expression.

‘What if I have?’ The tone of pretended nonchalance was all part of the game; she’d tell Sam but wanted to let her wheedle it out of her if she could.

‘Go on, who was it? One of the seniors? Someone in Tim’s class? Not Kenny Turner?’ Sam spoke in a breathy undertone, thrilled and shocked at the same time.

‘Promise you won’t tell. Promise!’ Julie had grabbed Sam’s arm, her grip fierce on the thin white cotton sleeve.

‘Hey!’ Sam pulled away, rubbing the sore place where Julie’s nails had left their impression. ‘Okay, I promise,’ she said, seeing a sudden change in her friend’s face. Julie was scared. That was something she’d remember later on.

Cupping her hand over Sam’s ear, Julie whispered eagerly then stood back, her eyes shining as she watched the disbelief in Samantha Wetherby’s face.

‘It’s true,’ she said, nodding. ‘Honest to God.’

‘What are you going to do about it, then?’ Sam asked, a frown of doubt creasing her forehead. ‘If that’s really true then he should be fired. It’s against the law,’ she added pompously. ‘Anybody can tell you that.’