Ian Rankin - A Question of Blood

Claverhouse just shrugged. “I merely asked because I don’t want Teri getting embarrassed in front of you…” He let his voice trail off, eyes fixing on Teri’s.

“Embarrassed?” Mr. Cotter echoed, looking in his daughter’s direction, so that he missed it when Claverhouse made a gesture with his fingers, as if typing on a keyboard. But Teri saw it, and knew what it meant.

“Dad,” she said, “maybe it’d be better if you waited outside.”

“I’m not sure I -”

“Dad.” She laid her hand on his. “It’s fine. I’ll explain later… honest, I will.” Her eyes boring into his.

“Well, I don’t know…” Cotter looked around the room.

“It’ll be fine, sir,” Claverhouse was reassuring him, leaning back in his chair and crossing one leg over the other. “Nothing to worry about, just some background info we think Teri can help us with.” He nodded towards Ormiston. “DS Ormiston can show you to the cafeteria, get yourself a cup of something and we’ll be finished here before you know it…”

Ormiston looked unhappy, eyes flickering towards Rebus and Hogan as if asking his partner why one of them couldn’t go in his place. Cotter was studying his daughter again.

“I don’t like leaving you here.” But his words had a defeated sound to them, and Rebus wondered if the man had ever stood up to either Teri or his wife. A man happiest with rows of numbers, stock market movements-things he felt he could predict and control. Maybe the car smash, the death of his son, had robbed him of self-belief, showing him up as powerless and puny in the face of random chance. He was already rising to his feet, Ormiston meeting him at the door, the two men exiting. Rebus thought suddenly of Allan Renshaw, of the effect losing a son could have on a father…

Claverhouse beamed a smile at Teri Cotter, who responded by folding her arms defensively.

“You know what this is about, Teri?”

“Do I?”

Claverhouse repeated the typing motion with his fingers. “You know what that means, though?”

“Why don’t you tell me.”

“It means you’ve got a website, Miss Teri. It means people can watch your bedroom any hour of the day or night. DI Rebus here seems to be one of your fans.” Claverhouse nodded in Rebus’s direction. “Lee Herdman was another.” Claverhouse paused, studying her face. “You don’t seem very surprised.”

She offered a shrug.

“Mr. Herdman had a bit of a voyeur thing going.” Claverhouse glanced towards Rebus, as if wondering whether he might fit this category, too. “Quite a lot of sites he liked to go to, most of them he had to use his credit card…”

“So?”

“So you’re giving it away for free, Teri.”

“I’m not like those sites!” she spat.

“Then what sort of site are you?”

She seemed about to say something, but bit it back.

“You like being watched?” Claverhouse guessed. “And Herdman liked to watch. Seems the two of you were pretty compatible.”

“He’d screwed me a few times, if that’s what you mean,” she said coldly.

“I might not have used quite those words.”

“Teri,” Rebus said, “there’s a computer Lee bought, we’re having trouble tracing it… Is that because it’s sitting in your bedroom?”

“Maybe.”

“He bought it for you, set it up for you?”

“Did he?”

“Showed you how to design a site, set up the webcam?”

“Why are you asking me if you already know?” Her voice had taken on an edge of petulance.

“What did your parents say?”

She looked at him. “I’ve got money of my own.”

“They thought you’d paid for it? They didn’t know about you and Lee?”

She gave him a look that confirmed how stupid his questions were.

“He liked watching you,” Claverhouse stated. “Wanted to know where you were, what you were doing. That’s why you set up the site?”

She was shaking her head. “Dark Entry is for anyone who cares to look.”

“Was that his idea or yours?” Hogan asked.

She gave a shrill laugh. “Am I supposed to be Red Riding Hood, is that it? With Lee as the big bad wolf?” She took a breath. “Lee gave me the computer, said maybe we could keep in touch by webcam. Dark Entry was my idea. No one else’s, just mine.” She pointed a finger at herself, finding a piece of bare flesh between her breasts. Her black lace top was low-cut. Her finger went to the diamond, hanging from its gold chain, and she played with it absentmindedly.

“Did he give you that, too?” Rebus asked.

She peered down at the chain, nodded, folded her arms again.

“Teri,” Rebus said quietly, “did you know who else was accessing your site?”

She shook her head. “Being anonymous is part of the fun.”

“You were hardly anonymous. There was plenty of information to tell people who you were.”

She considered this and shrugged.

“Anyone from your school know about it?” Rebus asked.

Another shrug.

“I’ll tell you one person who did know… Derek Renshaw.”

Her eyes widened, mouth opening into an O.

“And Derek probably told his good friend Anthony Jarvies,” Rebus went on.

Claverhouse had straightened in his seat, holding up a hand. “Wait a minute…” He looked towards Hogan, who offered a shrug, then back to Rebus. “This is the first I’m hearing about this.”

“Teri’s site was bookmarked on Derek’s computer,” Rebus explained.

“And the other kid knew, too? The one Herdman killed?”

Rebus shrugged. “I’d say it’s likely.”

Claverhouse bounded to his feet, rubbing at his jaw. “Teri,” he asked, “was Lee Herdman the jealous type?”

“I don’t know.”

“He knew about your site… I’m assuming you told him?” He was standing over her.

“Yes,” she said.

“How did he feel about that? I mean, about the fact that anyone- anyone -could watch you in your bedroom of a night?”

Her voice dropped to a whisper. “You think that’s why he shot them?”

Claverhouse leaned down over her, so his face was inches from hers. “How does it look to you, Teri? Do you think it’s possible?” He didn’t wait for her reply, wheeled away on one heel and clapped his hands together. Rebus knew what he was thinking: he was thinking that he personally, Detective Inspector Charlie Claverhouse, had just cracked the case, on his first day in charge. And he was wondering how soon he could go trumpeting his triumph to his senior officers. He went to the door and threw it open, looking up and down the corridor, disappointed to find it empty. Rebus took the opportunity to rise from his own chair and place himself in Claverhouse’s. Teri was staring into her lap, one finger running up and down the chain again.

“Teri,” he said quietly, to get her attention. She looked at him, eyes red-rimmed behind the liner and mascara. “You okay?” She nodded slowly. “Sure of that? Anything I can fetch you?”

“I’m fine.”

He nodded, as if trying to convince himself. Hogan had shifted places, too, and was now standing next to Claverhouse in the doorway, one calming hand on his shoulder. Rebus couldn’t make out what they were saying, wasn’t really interested.

“I can’t believe that bastard was watching me.”

“Who? Lee?”

“Derek Renshaw,” she spat. “He as good as killed my brother!” Her voice was rising. Rebus lowered his even further when he spoke.

“As far as I can see, he was in the car with your brother, but that doesn’t mean he was responsible.” Unbidden, an image of Derek’s father flashed into Rebus’s head: a kid abandoned at the edge of the sidewalk, gripping a newly bought football for dear life while the dizzying world spun past. “You really think Lee would walk into a school and kill two people because he was jealous?”