Alex Gray - Glasgow Kiss

‘I see Tulliallan’s worked its magic, then,’ he went on, referring to her recent training course at the Scottish Police College and instantly the tension was broken as his newest detective constable grinned back at him. They were lucky to have kept her, he suddenly thought. Irvine might have been sent anywhere within Strathclyde once her promotion had come through. And now that Niall Cameron had stepped up to detective sergeant, this was just the icing on Lorimer’s cake.

Then the telephone rang again and DC Irvine stood still, uncertain whether to stay in the DCI’s room or withdraw. Hovering there as Lorimer answered, she saw the change in his face immediately; the laughter lines around his mouth disappeared and the lips became thinner, a bitter line that immediately told Annie Irvine that something grim was being relayed to her boss.

‘Right,’ he said, then put the phone down, rising from his seat and turning to Irvine.

‘A missing child,’ he said. ‘We need to get cracking.’

The orange cat looked up expectantly, tail erect, as Maggie emptied the tin of food into its plastic bowl.

‘There you are, Chancer, at least one of you comes home in time for dinner.’ She sighed, placing the cat’s food onto a mat on the kitchen floor. It was a humid evening and she had left the back door open to air the place. Leaning against the kitchen counter, Maggie Lorimer gazed out into the garden. The rain had stopped now and a weak shaft of sunlight made diamond sparkles on the grass. Somewhere unseen amidst the trees a blackbird sang, its liquid notes piercing the murky air. The headache that had persisted all day was now a dull throb but listening to the bird’s pure, clear song seemed to soothe all her sore places.

She’d already prepared all of tomorrow’s lessons so the evening ahead was hers to enjoy. If Bill had been home. . Maggie gave a shuddering sigh. What hell must that young mother be going through? Somewhere out there a wee girl was lost. Snatched from the pavement outside her own home. A huge number of officers had been deployed in the search and DCI William Lorimer had his own team scouring every likely corner in his patch of the city. It was times like these when Maggie truly appreciated her husband’s job. So what if another night went by and she was left to her own devices? All those lonely hours were worth it if he could do something that would reunite that little family.

One of the local children had noticed a car draw up, had seen a woman pull the child in, then watched them drive away fast. Maggie shook her head as if to make the image of that moment disappear. There was nothing that she could do about it. Asking herself who would do such a wicked, wicked thing was futile and knowing what lengths a paedophile might go to only compounded her misery. Sometimes being a policeman’s wife gave too much insight into certain crimes, she thought sadly. An over-active imagination didn’t help either. Maggie’s eyes fell on the small pile of books she’d bought at the Edinburgh Book Festival. A good read would take her mind off this matter, at least for a wee while, she decided, picking up one of the new titles that had taken her fancy.

When the doorbell rang, Kim was out of the chair like a shot, hope making her eyes gleam.

‘Ms Fraser?’ Two people stood on her doorstep, a man and a woman. She didn’t recognise them, hadn’t remembered seeing them earlier on, but Kim Fraser knew by that flash of warrant cards that they were plain clothes police. Letting her hands fall weakly by her sides she took a step backwards and nodded. ‘Aye. Come in.’

She’d been going to ask them if there was any sign of. . but the words died on her lips as soon as she saw their faces — closed and weary. Kim Fraser had become an expert on reading faces in the last few hours: she’d seen eyes that regarded her with a kind of wary sympathy, and searched them for any sign that told her something, anything about their opinion on finding Nancy. They hadn’t found a thing. Kim slumped back into the armchair, her fingers wrapped around Nancy’s rag doll, a scruffy wee toy that was worn with handling. They were saying something but she couldn’t respond, hot tears melting her cheeks, strangling a voice that had grown hoarse with weeping.

The morning sky was stained with shafts of pink against the banks of grey, a new day beginning when a further search for the missing child could begin. Lorimer leaned against the windowsill for a moment, looking out at his garden. The trees were motionless at this early hour and there was no sign of life. It was that time between night and day when the world seemed to be holding its breath. Then, somewhere from the depth of the trees, a collared dove began its monotone cooing over and over into the cold air.

She could still be out there, he told himself. With somebody. They’d made little progress during the long hours of darkness but now daylight held a promise of renewed effort. But also the awareness that every minute ticking by meant a growing fear for the little girl’s safety.

He unbuckled his belt, letting his trousers fall where he stood, and slipped into his side of the bed. A few hours’ sleep were essential if he were to be sharp enough for what lay ahead. Beside him Maggie murmured in her sleep, her body warm and drowsy beneath the duvet. Resisting the urge to caress her into wakefulness, he turned on his side, drew his knees up and closed his eyes. He forced himself into that dark familiar place, letting his mind escape for a short while, banishing thoughts of Nancy Fraser and of what might have happened to her.

The dream returned and he knew what lay ahead. The tunnel beckoned him forwards and, in the way of dreams, he found himself helpless to resist. As always, the walls were covered in thick green slime that lost its colour as the darkness swallowed him up. And then the sense of terror closed in on him and he was unable to breathe, choking in the dense blackness, panic suffusing his senses, bringing him to his knees where he acknowledged this awful weakness, hiding his eyes from the suffocating walls and roof that were closing in on him, hearing his own voice cry out.

Even on waking the tears were real, as was the feeling of shame that swept over him. How could he be so unmanned by a dream? It was as if somewhere in the deepest recesses of his soul his one weakness had been found out by some fiendish spirit sent to mock him. You’re claustrophobic , it seemed to taunt him, you’re scared of the dark narrow places, aren’t you?

Lorimer lay on his back, letting the images recede, grateful that other thoughts came thick and fast to obliterate this nightmare, thoughts of a small girl and her weeping mother. But even as he sank back under the duvet, he could feel the sweaty dampness on his chest, a physical sign of his continuing frailty.

The sound of the alarm drilled into her brain, her hand already reaching to stop its noise even before she was properly awake. Maggie groaned softly, rolling back beneath the warm bedding, cuddling into her husband’s side. She hadn’t even noticed when he had come home, Maggie thought to herself. Must have been sound asleep for once. Wrapping her arms around his chest, she fitted her naked body to his, feeling a stirring as he struggled against the depths of sleep. Just a couple of minutes, she thought, no more or she’d doze off again and be late for work.

The memory came to her, hauling Maggie from slumber more effectively than any alarm: Julie Donaldson charging down the stairs away from Eric — and that expression on his face that Maggie simply could not fathom. Guilt? Fear? Or had it been a sort of puzzled disappointment? Sitting up now on the edge of their bed she tried to analyse what she had really seen. But somehow the image in Maggie’s mind kept shifting to the one of Eric’s shining face when he’d told Sandie and herself about the new baby. That was Eric as he usually was; a ‘shiny, happy person’ Sandie Carmichael called him and she was right. He was always smiling and cheerful, a fact that didn’t endear him to all of the staff. There were some at Muirpark Secondary whose blacker outlook was thrown into sharper relief by the young man’s sunny attitude and who curled a cynical lip at his Christian way of life. Maggie gave a shudder. Thank God she’d been the one to see that little incident, not one of the older, hard-bitten lot who might have read something salacious into it.