Stuart MacBride - Shatter the Bones

Logan looked away. ‘No change.’

‘Aw, man, sorry to hear it. You got some sleep though, yeah?’

‘A bit.’

‘Yeah, those pills are the mutt’s.’ He stared at Logan for a bit, then shook his head. ‘You’re looking kinda pale, man.’

‘Been a tough day.’

A laugh. ‘Tell me about it. Doing double shifts so I can afford T in the Park… Mind you, maybe I should stick it all in that fund for Alison and Jenny. One day to go. Nightmare, eh?’

One of the uniformed officers stationed at the hospital marched out from the reception area, pulling his peaked cap on over his bald patch. ‘Hoi, you with the chair!’ He pointed out through the doors. ‘That your car? You can’t park in an ambulance bay…’

Officer Baldpatch went pink and lowered his hand. ‘Sorry, Sarge; didn’t know it was you.’

Logan gave the wheelie chair a nudge and sent it trundling off towards the car park. ‘Shuggie Webster’s in the passenger seat. He needs a doctor.’

‘Yes, Sarge.’ The constable hurried out after the chair.

Mop Dude cleared his throat. ‘You’re a cop?’

After today, that was debatable. ‘Look … man … about those pills-’

‘Pills? What pills?’ Logan dug a handful of change from his pocket. Karma. ‘Now how much for an Evening Express and a packet of Skittles?’

‘Where’ve you been?’ DI Steel settled onto the end of Logan’s desk, her face creased into a scowl. ‘Ten to six, should be home by now.’

Logan pulled the next sheet of paper from his in-tray and gave it a skim before dumping it in the bin. ‘Hospital.’

‘Aye, I heard. How the hell did you get your hands on Shuggie Webster?’

The next three sheets were e-fits, printed off from the identikit software with no indication of who it was meant to be, who’d done them, or who the witness was. They were part of a little stack of unlawful removal forms and other assorted random gubbins, as if someone had grabbed the lot off the printer without bothering to check what they’d picked up. All of it anonymous. ‘I got a tip-off.’

‘And you thought you’d go after him on your own?’

‘Yup.’ Logan stuck the printouts on his desk — they didn’t even have case numbers. That was the trouble with people nowadays: no pride in their work, and no clue how to do it properly either. Not that he was in a position to hand out lectures on professionalism any more.

‘Laz, you daft sod, you had a bloody firearms team trying to track Shuggie down yesterday. You’re lucky he didn’t beat the shite out of you.’

Yeah… Lucky. ‘I got a tip-off, he came quietly. It was fine.’ Next down were the results of the GSM trace on Shuggie’s mobile phone. Apparently he was in Aberdeen Royal Infirmary.

Logan stuffed the next three reports in the bin. ‘You know anything about a pair of Yardies calling themselves Jacob and Robert?’

‘We had a deal, Laz. Five o’clock — you come home with me and let Susan spoil you.’ Steel picked up the Evening Express he’d bought at the hospital and flicked through it. She sucked on her top lip for a minute, then dumped the open newspaper back on his desk. ‘POLICE HERO IN HOUSE FIRE TRAGEDY.’

She tapped the story with a scarlet-painted nail. ‘Susan’s worried about you.’

Logan chucked a memo from Superintendent Napier in on top of the discarded reports. ‘I’m fine.’

‘No you’re no’.’ The inspector stood. ‘Did you see Samantha?’

Fifteen minutes of sitting at her bedside. Just sitting here, holding her hand and listening to the machinery breathing for her. Somehow he couldn’t bring himself to tell her what he’d done to Shuggie because of her.

She probably wouldn’t have been impressed. ‘…to Planet Laz, come in Planet Laz?’

He blinked. ‘Sorry. Didn’t get much sleep. Finnie about?’ Steel narrowed her eyes. ‘Did you no’ hear a single word I said?’

‘Just got to get something sorted before we go.’ Logan made for the door, but she was blocking the way.

‘Laz, look, I understand it’s-’

‘You do?’ He stared down at her. ‘You understand ?’ Sigh. ‘Fuck’s sake, we’ve all-’

‘I just … just need to speak to Finnie.’

‘…and all I’m saying is that we can’t put anything in place until we know what the terms and location for handover are going to be.’ Superintendent Green was leaning back against the windowsill in Finnie’s office. He looked up as Logan entered, then back to the head of CID again. ‘Any plans we make now will be irrelevant as soon as they get in touch.’

‘And I say there are contingencies we should be planning for now .’ Finnie swivelled his chair around and frowned at Logan. Then his face softened. ‘I understand you brought Shuggie Webster in. Well done.’

‘Thank you, sir, but I wanted to talk to you about-’

‘The only things you can realistically do at this stage of a kidnapping are put the hospital on alert, get a duty doctor on call, and get the force helicopter on standby.’ Green folded his arms. ‘It’s irrelevant in any case — we should be concentrating on finding Frank Baker. We do that and he’ll lead us straight to the McGregors.’

Finnie didn’t even look around. ‘This isn’t Miami Vice , Superintendent; Aberdeen doesn’t have a helicopter.’ He paused for a moment, then took a deep breath, eyes closed, letting it out slowly. ‘Now, what can we do for you, Logan?’

‘I need another firearms team. Two Yardies going by the names Jacob and Robert, it’s possible they’re the ones who’ve abducted Trisha Brown. They skinned most of Shuggie Webster’s right hand when he couldn’t pay off his drug debt.’

Green sniffed. ‘I think we’ve got more important things to worry about than a couple of two-bit drug dealers, Sergeant.’

‘Really, sir?’ Logan pulled on an ill-fitting smile. ‘Oh… Well, in that case, would you like me to nip back up the hospital and tell Trisha Brown’s mother her little girl isn’t as important as Alison and Jenny McGregor, because she’s not on the television?’

Pink rushed up the superintendent’s cheeks. ‘That’s not what I meant. By all means go pick up your little drug dealers, but let’s not lose sight of the fact that the kidnappers have already killed one little girl and time’s running out for Alison and Jenny!’ He squared his shoulders. ‘Frank Baker’s the key.’

‘Frank Baker isn’t-’

‘You just can’t admit when you’re wrong , can you Sergeant? You’re wrong and I was right. Baker’s guilty — that’s why he ran. The guilty ones always run. That’s why I exerted so much pressure on him, not because I think I’m,’ Green raised his fingers and made finger-quotes, ‘“something off The Sweeney .”’

Logan clenched his fist, feeling the skin pull tight over his swollen knuckles. ‘Frank Baker ran because you threatened to tell the people he worked with he was a paedophile.’

‘Exactly!’ Green stepped forward, until he was standing at Finnie’s side. ‘He’s a paedophile with access to a veterinarian’s, his own transport, and-’

‘He’s into little boys , not girls!’ Getting louder and louder. ‘And the vets he volunteered at haven’t lost any thiopental sodium. They’ve checked, six times . You just pulled his name out of your arse and decided he was guilty!’

Green stiffened. ‘Do I need to remind you, Sergeant , that I am a superintendent with the Serious Organized Crime Agency?’

Finnie bit his top lip. Cleared his throat. Turned to Logan. ‘And do you have an address for the Marley brothers?’

‘Marley…?’