media; providing support services to the families. He stretched his arms out, as if he was finishing a magic trick. This is how intelligence-led policing works. Would you rather we just guessed?
Oh I cleared my throat. I see.
Now, if you don t mind, Nicola will see you out. And Professional Standards will be expecting you in their offices first thing tomorrow morning.
Ash?
I looked up from my cold coffee and there was Dr McDonald, standing on the other side of the pub table. She smiled, gave me a little wave, then looked around her. This is nice.
No it isn t.
The Monk and Casket wasn t a big place: barely enough room for five or six tables and a pair of fruit machines pinging and chattering like Technicolor magpies. Red vinyl upholstery on creaky wooden seats and rock- hard benches. The bar was nearly as sticky as the cracked linoleum floor. One door back out to the outside world, and one on the other side with a faded sign:
TOILETS, TELEPHONE AND FUNCTION SUITE.
She pulled out a chair and sat. DCI Weber said you d be here.
I held up my hand. Hoy, Hairy: same again and a large white wine.
Hairy Joe looked up from his Daily Mirror and grunted. About a dozen earrings clinked on either side of his broad, furry face as he cranked up the coffee machine.
There were a couple of regulars in: Weird Justin with his long black hair and scabby baseball hat; the Donahue sisters, both of them far too old to be making a living selling blowjobs in darkened doorways; and in the corner, the manky skeletal figure of Twitch and his mate, Fat Billy Partridge.
No one that would want to talk shop with a police officer. Even one like me.
Dr McDonald made scritchy Velcro noises with her Converse Hi-tops on the tacky floor. Is it true you told a Member of the Scottish Parliament to bugger off, and accused ACC Drummond of being the Birthday Boy?
I stared into the milky scum floating on top of my coffee.
Welcome to my world
She reached across the table and took my hand. You did what any good father would do. Katie s lucky: you won t give up till you find her.
Yeah, because I did such a great job with Rebecca.
Dickie won t bring Steven Wallace in for questioning.
I know.
Hoy, lovebirds. Hairy Joe loomed over the table, mug in one hand, big glass of wine in the other. You OK with Pinot Grigio, sweetheart? Only I m all out of Sauvignon Blanc till Monday. Had a run on it during the footie. You two want to see the menu?
Er no, that s perfect thanks. She took a sip. Mmm
He shrugged and lumbered off.
I wrapped my other hand around the fresh, hot coffee. What am I supposed to do now?
You could go and see Michelle, I mean she s going to be all on her own and worried and scared?
Sit in quiet painful silence, trying not to fight.
I don t
My phone blared its harsh old-fashioned ring. Henry flashed on the screen.
I hit the button. Where the hell have you been?
None of your business. A sniff. Come on then: all your messages say phone you back, so I m phoning you back.
He s got Katie. The Birthday Boy s got her.
Silence.
Henry?
What time is it? Four I ll be there as soon as I can. The airport s closed with the snow, but I think the ferry s still running. Clunking noises came from the earpiece. Have you told anyone?
Michelle called the police.
Thank God for that: it ll make things a lot easier. Get Dr McDonald to fax everything she s got on Katie through to Lerwick police station, mark it for my attention. I ll throw some stuff in a case.
Henry
What does Dr McDonald say about Rebecca?
I turned away from the table. She doesn t know.
Ash, it doesn t matter any more you need to tell her. If the Birthday Boy s got Katie, maybe Megan Taylor wasn t number thirteen. Maybe number thirteen is Katie. It s important.
I m not
Ash, they know about Katie it s over. Tell her.
Chapter 38
The sharp smell of vinegar filled the car, the blower s gentle roar keeping the windows from steaming up with chip-shop fug as the rain hammered down. candlelit vigil organized for six-thirty this evening at St Jasper s
Dr McDonald frowned. St Jasper s is a weird name for a church, I mean there isn t a Saint Jasper, I checked on the Catholic websites, what sort of city names churches after made-up saints?
The Castle car park was empty, just us and the pay-and-display machine. There wasn t much left of the battlements, or the keep, or the main building, but the ruins were lit up with coloured spotlights. As if that would make them look any better. we spoke to Megan Taylor s father earlier today.
From up here, on the tip of the sharp granite blade, Oldcastle was spread out like a blanket of stars. Streetlights flickered in the downpour, reflections sparkling back from the twisted black snake of Kings River. want to ask whoever took our daughter to please give her back. Bruce Taylor sounded as if he was reading it off a bit of paper, the words stilted and unnatural. Megan s a wonderful girl who brings hope and joy to everyone that knows her
Dr McDonald broke off another piece of battered fish, blew on it, then popped it in her mouth. Crunching. Great batter. Eating by the glow of the dashboard lights.
Told you. Two fish suppers from the Blisterin Barnacles Chip Shop, one with a couple of pickled onions, the other with mushy peas microwaved, and served in a Styrofoam cup with a tinfoil lid.
I m asking you as a father, please
She dipped a chip into the lurid-green mush. I spoke to Dickie, he s got the whole church wired with cameras, if the Birthday Boy turns up at St Jasper s we ll get him on film, then Sabir s going to run facial-pattern analysis on all the CCTV footage from the shopping centre when Megan went missing, if he shows up we ll get him.
Hmm. My fish tasted of cobwebs and cardboard. as police continue to hunt for Katie Nicol, daughter of Detective Constable Ash Henderson of Oldcastle CID
Even the Irn-Bru was tasteless.
We ll find her, Ash, we re closer than we ve ever been.
Katie Nicol is the Birthday Boy s thirteenth victim, and only the second one to receive a card the day after she was kidnapped
Fucking moron. I switched off the radio. It s not a kidnap unless there s a ransom demand. She was abducted I stared at my chips, then closed the blue-and-white cardboard container and shoved it back in the plastic bag it d come from.
Are you sure you don t want to go to the vigil?
A gust of wind raked the Renault s bonnet with rain, the droplets sparking off the dirty paintwork, caught in the headlights of a hatchback as it pulled into the car park. Stopped as far away from us as possible.
Ash, I
Katie used to like it when I told her bedtime stories.
OK
