‘Shut the door.’ The young officer pressed a hand on the glass panel; there was a gentle click as the door closed.
McGuire was speaking before he turned round: ‘I didn’t go to her. I went to you, but your phone rung out… What was I supposed to do?’
‘How about fucking try again?’
McGuire’s mouth opened, closed quickly, then words seemed to come through clenched lips: ‘I did. I did. Look, she was here, in the office and asking questions all night. I could hardly…’
Brennan got the picture. He conceded that McGuire hadn’t gone out of his way to shaft him. At least, he gave him the benefit of the doubt on this occasion. Too much had happened in the last twenty-four hours to think about settling scores right now. The case had to be first priority.
‘Did you haul in Trish Brown last night?’ said Brennan.
‘Yes, I did. Look, boss, I saw the initial pathology report too and I thought about the indicators but I just don’t think-’
Brennan interrupted, ‘Good, I don’t fucking want you to think. Did you get her swabbed and dabbed?’
McGuire nodded. ‘Yes. Should have results around late morning.’
‘Where’s she now — Trish?’
‘Downstairs. We’re holding her and the other girls. Sir, I have to say, they knew fuck all.’
Brennan shook his head from left to right. ‘Not a hint?’
‘They were silly wee girls, just talk, y’know. Lou and me, we went through them till the wee hours. Got nothing. I think we’re barking up the wrong tree.’
He was probably right, thought Brennan. If the victim wasn’t local, the chances of her knowing the girls that found her remains looked slim now. He said, ‘Wait for the lab boys. If you get the all-clear, let them go. But if there’s any dubiety, I want to know.’
‘Yes, sir.’
‘And you warn them to keep their traps shut in front of the fucking press!’
McGuire nodded. ‘Of course, sir.’
Brennan told the DC to type up the interviews and have them on his desk by close of play, then, ‘Tell me about Carly’s parents, Stevie.’
He moved forward, pulled out a chair. ‘Queer fish if you ask me.’
‘How come?’
‘Well, they’re your typical sheep-shaggers for a start — northerners, y’know. Full of religion.’
‘He’s a minister — I’d be surprised if they weren’t.’
McGuire sat on the edge of the chair. ‘Nah, it’s more than that. There was a couple of times I thought he hushed her up, like she was going to say something he didn’t want to get out. They were very guarded, cautious.’
Brennan leaned forward. He scratched his brow. ‘You think they’re not letting on about something?’
‘I don’t know… It was just a feeling I got.’
Brennan had learned to trust those feelings. ‘Then we should get them on the rack.’
McGuire seemed doubtful: ‘They were a nice couple.’
‘I don’t give a flying fuck, boy. Their daughter’s been killed — you know most victims know their murderers, don’t you?’
McGuire looked at his hands, turned over his palms. ‘Yes, boss.’
Chapter 20
DC McGuire stood up. He was turning for the door when it was suddenly flung open. Dr Lorraine Fuller stood in the jamb.
‘I’ll get you in the car park, Stevie,’ said Brennan.
‘Yes, sir. Do you want me to call ahead?’
The DI nodded. ‘Yes. Do that.’
As McGuire left the office Lorraine walked towards Brennan’s desk. He offered her a seat. For a moment Brennan wondered if she was going to cause a scene, then he remembered who he was dealing with — Lorraine was far too collected for that kind of thing. Then there were the consequences; neither of them wanted black marks on their employment records at this stage.
‘Would you like something? A coffee, maybe?’
‘I’m not here for tiffin, Rob.’ She lowered herself onto the office chair, crossed her legs. Brennan noticed her calf — she had very defined muscles.
‘If it’s about last night…’
‘You know bloody well what it’s about.’
Brennan sighed. The heavy rise and fall of his chest didn’t go unnoticed by the psychologist. Lorraine rolled her eyes in response. When she brought them back to Brennan he had eased himself onto the corner of the desk. A siren howled from beyond the window. ‘I had every intention of coming round but I stopped off at the morgue on the way home and…’
She looked at him as he spoke; her lips widened momentarily then dropped slightly. ‘I didn’t realise.’
‘The victim was a young girl, barely sixteen.’
Lorraine stood up. ‘Look, I shouldn’t have come. I know this must be very stressful for you after…’
Brennan smiled. ‘It’s my job. It’s not stressful in the slightest for me, you know that… I hope that’s what you told Galloway as well.’
Lorraine leaned over, picked up her briefcase. As she did so, Brennan noticed more buttons than usual were open on her blouse. ‘Aileen only listens to what she wants to hear.’
‘We need to talk about that… and a few other things.’
Lorraine turned from him, walked for the door, said, ‘You know where to find me. I’m home alone most nights and the number hasn’t changed.’
Brennan placed a hand on her arm. The act made him feel self-conscious and he ceased it quickly. ‘Let me get a handle on this case… Once I’ve done that…’
She nodded. As she held her head firm a small muscle twitched in her neck. ‘Look, Rob… I have something to say.’
‘Well, say it.’
She lowered her grey eyes; her lids closed for a moment and then she lifted her head towards the ceiling in one swift movement. Brennan knew she was searching for strength. He was about to prompt her again but she seemed to find some steel, raised up her briefcase on one leg and popped the fastener. She appeared to know what she was looking for and found it quickly. As she removed her hand, Brennan spotted the small piece of card. She put it to her chest for a moment, shielded it, then turned it over and handed it to him.
Brennan took the card — it was a picture. Black and white, a bit fuzzy round the edges, but he’d seen something like it before. ‘What’s this?’
Lorraine stayed quiet, stared at him.
‘Is this a scan?’
She nodded. ‘I didn’t expect you to be overjoyed but I thought you might take it better than this.’
‘You’re pregnant.’
A tut. ‘Ever the detective.’
Brennan didn’t know what to say. He offered the picture back to Lorraine; she shook her head. ‘Keep it, I’ve got others.’
‘Lorraine, I–I…’
She turned around. ‘Take your time… You’ll find the words.’
As she left the office, Brennan tucked the picture in his pocket. He put on his jacket and collected the blue folder from his desk. His mind seemed to be ablaze, unable to settle on one set of thoughts. He took a moment to look out the window towards the city streets; it was cloudy, but there was no rain. He pitched himself on the rim of
