He flashed his ID at one of the uniforms and ducked under the cordon. Marched over to us, trying to look stern and serious, while the corners of his mouth twitched. ‘DI Morrow, Ash, you got him?’
Shifty pointed at me. ‘Figured it out.’
All pretence at hiding the smile vanished and Jacobson play-punched me on the arm. ‘Knew there was a reason I keep you on the books! You look like crap, by the way.’ Beaming as he stared up at Dewar’s house. ‘What about Toby—’
‘He buried Toby Macmillan in Camburn Woods, round the back of those abandoned World War Two barracks.’ I tucked my throbbing left hand into my pocket before Jacobson could see it and start asking awkward questions. ‘Doesn’t know exactly which one, but won’t be hard to find with a dog unit.’
‘Oh...’ Jacobson’s smile disappeared, a pained expression blossoming like a gunshot wound. ‘Poor wee sod. Thought we might actually manage to save this one.’ A nod, trying to sound upbeat again: ‘Still, at least we got the guy, right? He won’t be hurting anyone else.’
Shifty jerked his chin up, setting his jowls wobbling. ‘He’s the one who tried to kill Alice.’
‘Is he now.’ Jacobson’s face pinched. ‘Well, I think he’s going to find his time inside very uncomfortable indeed. If I’ve got anything to say about it, anyway.’
Sounded as if torturing Kenneth Dewar was going to be a team sport and, while I wasn’t normally a team player, that sounded like something I could definitely get behind.
Jacobson nodded. ‘Speaking of Alice, any more news?’
Shifty shook his head. ‘No change. They have to wait till she wakes up.’
‘Damn it. Well, if there’s anything I can do, you...’ He raised an eyebrow as a dark Fiat Panda rattled its way up the street towards us. ‘Ash, you might want to brace yourself.’
The Panda screeched to a halt outside the cordon and one of the PCs hurried over, holding his arms out to block the way.
Mother scrambled from the car, leaving the engine running as she marched for the ‘POLICE’ tape. She didn’t bother flashing her ID, instead Mother stuck two hands against the PC’s high-viz chest and shoved him into next door’s garden. Flat on his back in the rose bushes as she ducked under the barrier, stormed right up to me, eyes hard and round, mouth a small tight circle with gritted teeth in the middle. Her right hand flashed up, the slap hard enough to snap my head to the left, leaving the skin hot and stinging as she grabbed me by the lapels. ‘WHAT THE HELL DO YOU THINK YOU WERE PLAYING AT?’ Then let go and wrapped me in a serious bearhug, setting the ribs squealing all down one side where Francis punched me last night. ‘We were worried sick!’
‘It wasn’t—’
‘You’ve got some explaining to do, young man!’
‘Yes, but—’
‘Sending all those, “life can’t go on” texts — you said you were going to kill yourself! What were we supposed to think when your pool car turned up in the Cromarty Firth?’
Sod.
So much for sneaking back to Oldcastle and keeping everything secret.
45
Well, Mother didn’t need the whole truth, did she? Just the bits that wouldn’t get me arrested.
‘Gordon Smith attacked me at the farm, after I called you.’ Unzipping my new leather jacket to show off the bloodstained shirt, and neck covered in bruises. Then pulling my bandaged hand from my pocket. ‘He set fire to the place. I barely got out alive. Smith must’ve taken my phone and my pool car.’
She pulled her chin in, doubling, then tripling it. ‘But how did you get back to Oldcastle?’
Good question.
Come on then, answer it.
‘I’m... not entirely sure, I’ve been kind of disorientated. Probably in shock from being strangled and all the blood loss.’ Holding up my bandages again. ‘He cut my finger off.’
That should hold her.
And not a single mention of Helen or Leah MacNeil.
Mother’s face softened and she gave me another hug — not so rib-crushing this time. ‘Go home. You look exhausted. It’s—’
‘Sir? Ma’am?’ One of the PCs came huffing up the pavement at a run, face red above her fluorescent-yellow padded jacket, one hand holding the bowler hat on her head. Stopping in front of us with her back to the wind. ‘I’ve found Dewar’s car!’ Pointing over her shoulder. ‘Bonnet’s all dented and there’s what looks like blood in the wheel arch. Silly bugger didn’t even put it through the carwash, ma’am.’
‘Good work.’ Mother patted her on the shoulder. ‘Now off you go and call for a full SOC team, I want this place—’
Jacobson cleared his throat. ‘As senior officer, and someone who’s actually on the Gòrach investigation, perhaps you’d let me be in charge of my own crime scene? After all, DI Malcolmson, I believe you’ve still got a killer of your own to catch?’
Pink flushed Mother’s cheeks. ‘Only trying to help.’ She stuck her nose in the air. ‘And as Ash is seconded to my team, I’m sending him home.’ She made shooing gestures at me. ‘Go on, off you go.’
‘While Mr Henderson is indeed seconded to your team, he remains an active member of mine. And as he’s now caught the man who abducted and killed four children, I’m going to need him to give a statement before he goes anywhere.’
How lovely, two bosses fighting over me. Be still, my girlish heart.
Didn’t matter anyway, whatever happened here, I wasn’t done for the night. Not by a long way.
Sitting on the other side of the interview table, Rhona opened her mouth wide in a jaw-cracking yawn that was disturbingly infectious. Hers finished with a small burp and a shudder. Then she turned her notebook around and pushed it across the table towards me. ‘Sign and date it at the bottom there.’
Soon as I’d done that, she clicked off the recording equipment.
They’d done up Interview Room Three at some point, replaced the sagging stained ceiling tiles with fresh white ones; swapped the tatty blue carpet tiles for hardwearing grey; given it a fresh lick of magnolia and a new Formica table — still bolted to the floor; but they hadn’t managed to shift the lingering scent of sweaty feet and boiled cabbage.
She took her notebook back, pursed her pale lips at it for a moment, then flipped it shut and slipped it into her pocket. ‘And that’s everything that happened, is it?’
‘Scout’s honour.’
Well, I might have left a couple of bits out. Like torturing Chris McHale. And trying to drown Kenneth Dewar as he lay there bleeding to death. And buying a black-market handgun with the intention of blowing lots and lots of holes in the aforementioned Kenneth Dewar’s face, Your Honour. But other than that, my statement was more-or-less the truth.
Oh, and I might have left out the fact that I had an app on Alice’s phone that could locate Leah MacNeil and Gordon Smith, but that was understandable, wasn’t it? What with being in shock because of all the strangling and blood loss I’d suffered.
Amazing I’d managed to make a statement at all...
Rhona stared at me in silence. Letting it stretch long beyond the point where it became uncomfortable.
She was getting better at this interviewing game, but I’d taught her all the tricks she was currently using, so it was easy enough to sit here looking open and innocent.
At last, she nodded. ‘I take it you and Shifty worked this story out between you?’