Craig Robertson - Snapshot

It turned out it was both. Rory was sitting on a couch with a PlayStation 3 in front of him while a crappy afternoon movie was thundering away on the television. A pair of crutches rested on the wall behind the settee. The boy didn’t bother looking up till his mother told him for a second time that he had a visitor.

He knew Winter right away which explained why he got a glare. Either that or else he simply wasn’t best pleased at having to interrupt his game.

‘Rory, this is Mr Winter from the police. Oh, I’m sorry, Mr Winter, I forgot what rank you were.’

‘It’s fine, Mrs McCabe,’ he said with as much authority as he could muster. ‘Thank you. I’ll just talk to Rory now if that’s okay.’

The woman flustered a bit and backed away.

‘Oh yes, yes. Of course. Can I get you a cup of tea?’

‘No, thank you.’

‘Coffee?’

‘No, I’m fine. Thanks.’

She gave up her mission of hospitality and closed the door behind her, leaving Winter alone with her stroppy teenage son.

‘Hi, Rory. How you doing? That knee of yours getting better?’

The kid sighed.

‘It’s okay.’

‘You able to get around on those things?’ he asked, nodding at the crutches behind him.

‘I can manage okay. Listen, I’m no’ as daft as my mum. I remember you. You’re not a detective, you’re a photographer. So what you doing here?’

Winter gave him a smile intended to tell him that he recognized that the kid was smart. And it wasn’t completely a lie. He wasn’t going to get anywhere by treating him like an idiot.

‘I didn’t say I was a cop, your mum just assumed that. But obviously I do work with them. I wanted to ask you some questions about the person that did this to you.’

‘I told you already and I told the cops. I don’t know who it was.’

‘Yeah, I remember. But I still think you know more than you’re telling.’

Rory frowned and looked out of the window.

‘The guy that beat you up, he had a ring on his finger, right? Must have hurt like fuck when he punched you in the chest.’

His head spun towards Winter, his mouth dropping. He quickly clammed it shut again but it was enough to let Winter know he was rattled.

‘I don’t know what you are talking about,’ McCabe mumbled. As he did so, his mobile beeped, signalling a text, and he picked it up, punching in a reply.

‘My mate across the road,’ he said, without looking up. ‘Wanting to know if that was a cop going into my house. He’s looking out for me.’

‘So what did you tell him?’

‘Said you weren’t a cop. But that you were hassling me for information.’

‘Ach, it’s hardly hassle, Rory. More like trying to help you.’

‘Aye, right.’

Time to push his luck, Winter thought.

‘Your mum seems really nice.’

He was wary. ‘Yes, she is.’

‘Looks after you pretty well I’d say,’ he continued. ‘Thinks the world of you.’

‘Aye. ’

Winter lowered his voice.

‘It would be terrible if she found out about the drugs.’

He was reaching, guessing. It could have been game over before it had barely begun but he knew the link was there.

‘Fuck off,’ Rory hissed at him. ‘That’s not cool. You can’t do that. It would kill her. She thinks I’m the only teenager around here that’s clean. And I am clean. It was only a bit of weed.’

‘Just a bit?’ he guessed again.

‘Okay, more than a bit but it’s no big deal. But I don’t want her to know.’

‘No problem,’ Winter smiled. ‘You help me and I help you. And everything you tell me stays between us.’

The teenager stared straight through him, gnawing his lip and thinking hard. Tears began to run down his cheeks.

‘Fucking bastard,’ he choked. ‘This isn’t fair. If he finds out I’ve talked… he’ll kill me. I’m scared.’

‘I know you are but he won’t find out from me. I promise.’

He wiped at his eyes with the back of his hand, his cheeks scarlet with embarrassment and worry.

‘You promise?’

‘Yes,’ Winter nodded.

‘You better. You saw what he did to me last time.’

Rory nodded as if he’d come to a decision, dried his eyes again and began.

‘Okay. First off, I don’t know who he was. Just one guy. Six footish. With a ski mask on. I really don’t know who he was. Okay?’

Winter believed him.

‘Okay.’

Rory swallowed hard.

‘He just wanted information from me. That’s all.’

‘Tell me what he wanted, Rory.’

The boy swore, blowing bubbles through his tears, his eyes red.

‘There was a mate of mine that died a wee while back. Keiran McKendrick. Died of an overdose.’

The words stuck in the boy’s throat as if he hoped that if he hadn’t spoken them then they wouldn’t be true.

‘What happened?’

He glared again. Winter was wanting more information than he was prepared to give. He was intruding on the boy’s grief.

‘Don’t really know. He didn’t do much more than I did. A wee bit of miaow-miaow, that was all. Hardly ever though. Then he overdosed.’

‘Sorry to hear it. So what did that have to do with you being attacked?’

Rory swallowed hard again.

‘The guy wanted to know who supplied Kieran with the gear. He beat the shit out of me till I told him.’

‘That’s all he wanted?’

‘Aye. ’

‘And who did give your pal the drugs?’

‘Never mind. The other guy had to knock the fuck out of me to get it. All you need to know is that was what he wanted.’

‘Come on, Rory. Finish the job. Give me the name.’

‘No, I’ve told you enough. Why don’t you just leave me alone?’

‘Look, Rory…’

The living-room door opened and Mrs McCabe pushed through with a pot of tea and a plate of biscuits. She immediately saw that her boy had been crying and looked at Winter sternly, the tigress coming out in the quiet housewife.

‘Trauma,’ Winter assured her. ‘People underestimate the effects of re-living an attack like that. It’s a form of post-traumatic stress disorder. Just leave him with his PlayStation for a bit and he’ll be okay. Maybe a cup of tea and a couple of biscuits.’

The woman looked unsure but Rory nodded at her.

‘It’s fine, Mum. I’ll be fine. He’s just going, we’re finished.’

The words were to his mum but they were said with a look at Winter. He wasn’t saying any more. Not that day, anyway.

‘You’ll have a cup of tea though before you go, Sergeant Winter?’

‘No, sorry, Mrs McCabe, but I have to go. Thanks, anyway. Take care of yourself, Rory, and I’ll pop back and see you.’

‘No need, Sergeant,’ Rory said, emphasizing the last word.

He let Mrs McCabe show him to the door and back into the close. He started down the stairs, wondering why the fuck somebody was so determined to find out the name of a dealer that they would take a bat to the kid’s knee. It had to be linked to the shootings though, it just had to be.

He heard footsteps behind him just a second or two before he felt a kick to the back of his legs. A second boot swiftly followed and he found himself tumbling down the stairs. As he fell, he could hear more feet approaching, from down the stairs this time, and a hard blow came at his shoulder.

‘Keep away from Rory, ya cunt. What’s your problem?’

‘He’s no done nothing, right. Leave him alane.’

Winter covered his head and pushed himself back up onto his feet, taking a boot to his right knee for his efforts. Pain shot through it, causing it to buckle and he sank down, half kneeling. He fired out a punch at the nearest person and caught him solid, hearing a groan and footsteps staggering back. He threw back an elbow and caught someone else somewhere solid. It gave him enough breathing space to get to his feet and see three guys in hoodies, two with scarves over their faces and the third, much taller and broader than the other two, was wearing a balaclava that showed only his eyes. Winter lashed out at the nearest one with a boot and caught him in the balls.