That was unfair. ‘Is that right?’
A pause. ‘Well, it’s how I feel. I’m tired of all of this, tired of being the only one who raises our daughter and I’m tired of getting no support… I want to know what the point is, Rob? What’s the point any more?’
He didn’t have an answer for her. He stared into the open-plan office and searched for something to say, but nothing came. Maybe there was no point.
‘Well?’ said Joyce. ‘Are you just going to leave that one hanging?’
He watched one of the DCs walk over to the whiteboard and scribble something in red ink. He found some words: ‘I’m going away for a few days.’
A tut. ‘Well, that’s just great. Just bloody-’
He cut her off. ‘Joyce, shut up. I’m investigating the death of a young girl and her baby is missing. I’m going to interview her friends and people who knew her. She came from Pitlochry.’ He blasted his words. ‘Is that all right with you? Do you think you can manage a day or so with Sophie and her tantrums whilst I try and find out who cut up a young girl and left her body in a rubbish bin and what the fuck they’ve done with her child?’
There was no reply for some moments, then, ‘If you’re interested, Sophie, your own daughter, who was supposed to be sick and took the day off school, has left the house. She’s taken a bottle of vermouth and some of my housekeeping money… In case it’s of any concern to you, I thought I should let you know. I’ll be scouring the streets for her when I put down the phone.’
Brennan had no time to reply before she hung up.
Chapter 26
Brennan jotted down the names listed as Carly’s ‘known associates’. He halted before placing a full stop, touched his tongue with the tip of the pencil, then planted it in the notebook.
‘Right, listen up,’ he addressed the team.
The room fell quiet.
‘DC McGuire and myself are going to be out of the office for a day or so…’
McGuire perked up as his name was mentioned; Brennan hadn’t told him he was going to Pitlochry.
‘We’re leaving for the north and we’ll be tracking down some of Carly Donald’s known associates, seeing what we can find. I do not want to hear anything second hand. I repeat: anything comes in, you dial this!’ Brennan held up his mobile phone. ‘You tell me right away if there are any developments in my absence. Got it?’
Together: ‘Yes, sir.’
‘Lou and Dave… I want you to handle the media.’
‘Sir.’
Brennan frowned, shook his head. ‘Now, what do I mean by that? This: you take it straight to the press office… After you’ve told me, of course.’
Both grinning: ‘Yes, sir.’
‘I don’t need to remind you the media are going to start jumping up and down as soon as they discover we have a missing child on our hands. We want to delay that eventuality for as long as we can. Hopefully, the first the press know about it will be when we announce the child is safe and well, but we have to be prepared for the worst. Understood?’
‘Yes, sir.’
Brennan tucked his notebook in his jacket pocket, threw the jacket over his shoulder and paced for the door. ‘Come on, Stevie, we can collect your Clearasil on the way…’
The team jeered the DC. ‘Go get ’em, Stevie… Shag a sheep for me, mate!’
Brennan allowed himself a smirk. The way things were progressing on the case, there would be precious little room for laughter. He knew if he didn’t find Carly’s child soon the chances were slim that he ever would. He couldn’t allow that to happen. He wouldn’t have another young life on his conscience. He felt a surge of pity and tapped at his breast pocket where he kept the scan picture Lorraine had given him.
In the station foyer Brennan was stopped by the desk sergeant. ‘How’s it going, Rob?’
Brennan inverted a smile. ‘You know, Charl.’
Charlie leaned over the desk, acting conspiratorial. ‘What’s Princess Prada saying?’
He knew better than to feed office gossip. ‘Just the usual.’
‘Oh, yeah?’
Brennan motioned McGuire to get the doors, threw him the car key. ‘Bring round the Passat, eh?’
‘Yes, sir.’
As the DC left, Brennan leaned over the counter, lowered his tone. He could see Charlie’s eyes lighting up. ‘You know Lauder thinks she’s got a thing for him.’
‘That right?’
Brennan showed teeth. ‘I shouldn’t say, but I heard him talking about her coming on to him.’
‘Get away.’ Charlie’s mouth drooped.
Brennan straightened himself. ‘Probably just idle chatter — wouldn’t pay it any heed.’
The desk sergeant nodded. ‘You’re right. That’s how rumours get started, mate.’
Brennan winked at him as he headed for the door. Charlie’s old face was unreadable; like a piece of clay on a potter’s wheel, it waited for a new form to emerge.
Outside the wind cut. Brennan buttoned his jacket, stamped his feet on the pavement. He could smell the brewery on the breeze; he hated the smell. It was the city’s scent, the defining characteristic that seemed to sum the place up for him. Where he grew up the air was clearer; Ayr was famous for it. The wind that washed over the Irish Sea brought clarity, the smell of seaweed and promise. Edinburgh had none of that. It was the smell of squalor and confusion and desperation that summed up the city for Brennan. They said it was warmer on the east coast but he didn’t believe it. Growing up in Ayr it seemed to have been all sunny days, golden summers and smiling and joking with Andy. Those days were gone.
McGuire lowered the window on the Passat as he pulled up. ‘Ready to go, boss. Want to drive?’
Brennan walked to the passenger side, stayed quiet. When he was in he put on his seat belt and nodded. ‘Come on, then, let’s get going.’
It took them an age to get out of the city, onto the main road. When they started to pick up speed, Brennan opened his window a few inches. ‘Don’t mind if I smoke, do you?’ he said.
‘Well…’
‘Because if you do, there’s always the bus.’
McGuire nodded. ‘No, it’s fine.’
Brennan took out his cigarette packet, looked at the purple square on the front and frowned. ‘Got to get some proper fags.’
‘Sorry?’
‘Silk Cut… Think they’re for folk with sore throats.’
‘Trying to give up?’
‘Cutting back.’
‘They’ll kill you, y’know.’
Brennan pushed in the cigarette lighter, said, ‘There’s a lot of things that’ll do that.’
McGuire nodded. He put on the blinkers to overtake a heavy goods vehicle. There was an unfamiliar expression on his face. ‘Sir, can I ask you something?’
The lighter pinged; Brennan removed it. ‘If you like.’
‘Why did you join the force?’
Brennan lit his cigarette, held it between his fingers and exhaled his first drag slowly. ‘What kind of a question is that?’
McGuire took his eyes off the road, glanced at the DI then back to the car in front. ‘Most of the people I ask these days talk about the pension, or some bullshit about never seeing a policeman lose an argument… But I’d say you were different.’
Brennan took another drag, squinted at McGuire through the cigarette smoke. ‘Oh, I’m that.’
