lock it up, eh? He selected a blue folder from the pile and handed it to me. One forensic report.
Dr McDonald stood in the middle of the room, staring at the empty cutting tables, both arms wrapped around herself. What happens to the girls now?
Long-term storage; got a deep-freeze facility on this industrial estate in Shortstaine. Can t release them for burial till there s a trial defence ll want to do their own post mortem.
That might be years
A shrug. Kinda depends on how long it takes you lot to catch him.
I flicked through the chilled paperwork. A preliminary soil analysis was covered in graphs and tables of numbers. The bit at the back was in actual English. Says here that there s soil particulates recovered with the body that don t match the substrate it was buried in.
Alf nodded. Means they were killed elsewhere and dumped in the grave.
I stared at him. Yeah, because we couldn t tell that from the photographs on the birthday cards.
Pink rushed up his cheeks. Well I was ahem. Do you guys want a tea or coffee or something?
Dr McDonald walked over to the wall of refrigerated drawers, and put her hand on one of the stainless-steel doors. All that time in the cold ground, and they still can t go back to their families.
Just a little longer, please. Just long enough to get Steve Wallace. After five years, a couple more days wouldn t make any difference
I cleared my throat, stuck the report back in the folder and returned it to Alf. If we can get a soil sample from the murder site they ll be able to match it. All we need s a warrant. I pulled out my phone. The network icon blinked at me: no signal.
Alf shoved the drawer back into the wall. It s all the metal and pipes and fridges and being underground and that: plays hell with the signal. There s a sweet spot right outside the doors though.
Nothing, nothing then the mortuary doors closed behind me and I had four bars.
DCI Weber wasn t picking up, and neither was Rhona, so I tried Sabir instead. Need you to do a PNC and full background on one Steven Wallace, eighty-six McDermid Avenue, Oldcastle, I.C. One male, early to mid forties.
PNC me arse, did I not tell youse the internet was where it s at? A rattle of keystrokes in the background.
Don t mean to geg, but who s this Steven Wallace when he s at home whackin one off?
Depends what you find, doesn t it?
OK. This on the record, or off?
Like I said: depends what you find.
The door opened behind me, and Dr McDonald slipped through into the gloomy corridor. Do you want to
I held up a finger and pointed at the phone in my other hand.
I need enough to go in there and turn his house upside down, drag him into the station, take DNA, full body- cavity search, the lot.
Leave it with us. Gonna cost youse a bevvie though, right? Sabir hung up.
I slid the phone back in my pocket. Sorry: business.
Do you fancy dinner tonight? I mean a carryout or something, Aunty Jan s off to Glasgow to see My Chemical Romance, and she s staying over with friends so I m going to be on my own and maybe we could talk about the case or something. Or we could watch a film She bit her bottom lip and took a step back, staring over my shoulder.
I turned. There was someone on their knees in the shadows big shoulders, grey boilersuit, scuffed trainers. The Rat Catcher. She was stroking something, holding it to her chest. One of the big plastic traps lay empty in front of her.
Dr McDonald stepped closer, tugging my sleeve. Is that a rat, I mean is she actually cuddling a dead rat?
The Rat Catcher must have heard her, because she looked up and stared at us.
My mobile rang the harsh noise cutting through the hum of the hospital above.
Mrs Rat Catcher didn t move.
I answered. Michelle, this isn t really a good
The school just phoned.
Something heavy dragged a sigh out of me. What s she done now?
Katie s been in a fight they re keeping her in the office. Someone has to go round there and speak to the headmistress.
Silence.
And?
The Miss Jean Brodie voice came out full bore. Well, I can t do it, can I? I m stuck in a meeting till seven.
Yeah, well you know what: I m trying to catch a serial killer who kidnaps and tortures young girls. You think your meeting s more
Oh, don t give me that. You had plenty of time to sneak off with your reporter whore when you were on duty, didn t you? Katie s only ever your daughter when it s convenient!
That s not
They re talking about expelling her, Ash. I m stuck here till seven. Go be a father for a change. And she was gone.
I closed my eyes, leaned back against the wall and banged my head off it a couple of times. Thank you, Ash, you re my saviour.
A hand on my arm.
I looked down and Dr McDonald was staring up at me. Are you all right?
Boom. The door clattered open and Alf appeared from the mortuary, shoving a big metal gurney in front of him. Beep, beep: mind your backs. The door swung shut again. Got a client to collect from Oncology. He stopped for a moment, banging one wheel of the trolley up and down on the concrete floor. Bloody thing never goes in a straight line He peered down the corridor. That you, Lisa?
The Rat Catcher stared back, clutching the dead rodent against her chest.
Alf smiled. How you doing? Everything good? Yeah, perfect with me too. Keeping busy, you know?
Blink.
Well, better get back to it, right? No rest for the wicked.
She stood, opened the cage mounted into her trolley and placed the rat s body inside. Her Oldcastle accent was thick and gravelly. Keeping busy.
That s the spirit.
Lisa the Rat Catcher hunched over her trolley and scuffed away through the on-and-off patchwork of light and shadow.
Dr McDonald shuffled her feet. She s very Erm
Nah. Alf gave his gurney s wheel another couple of dunts. Don t worry about Lisa, been working here longer than I have. Not the sharpest hamster in the cage, but she s all right. You OK to see yourselves out?
The school day finished a quarter of an hour ago, Mr Henderson. The headmistress stood with her back to the room, looking out of the office window at the dirty rectangular blocks that made up Johnston Academy, classroom lights glowing in the darkness. Surveying her domain.
Her office wasn t like the ones on the telly no wooden panelling and large teak desk with matching trophy case. Instead it was crammed with filing cabinets, in-trays and piles of paperwork. Cracked magnolia walls and a scrawl-covered whiteboard, a corkboard littered with pinned-up notes.
Two chairs sat in front of the desk. A balding man perched in one of them, wearing a corduroy jacket and a frown, hands knotting and unknotting themselves in his lap.
I sank into the other seat. No point waiting to be asked: headmasters were like detective chief inspectors you couldn t let them get above themselves. You do understand what I do for a living, don t you, Mrs There was a wooden plinth in the middle of the cluttered desk with a brass nameplate on it. Elrick. We are rather busy trying to catch a killer.
Her back stiffened. I see. Yes well. We need to talk about Katie.
