We headed for the door, pausing only to allow a constable leading a slight, red-haired man in handcuffs to pass through the narrow aisle between the desks. My phone buzzed as we reached my car, and I fished it out along with my keys, unlocking the door for Fletcher before I opened the email from my sister.
“You’re not going to believe what I found in dad’s stuff,” the message read, and there was an attached photo of the nearby Loch Ness. I didn’t bother to open up the thumbnail. I knew what it would be. Some kind of weird image that would further her theory that Alasdair MacBain’s disappearance had something to do with the Loch Ness Monster. I couldn’t believe that stupid thing had come up twice in one day. “Can you send it to the guys at the lab?”
“Fine,” I replied, just to appease her and stop her from trying to look into this on her own. I forwarded the email to the lab, along with an apology and a brief explanation.
“Everything okay?” Fletcher asked when I climbed in the car.
“Just my sister,” I said, and she nodded as if that were answer enough.
I started the car and eased us out of the cramped parking lot, shifting quickly through the gears once I hit the main street. Fletcher pulled the school’s address up on her phone and clipped the device to the vent holder so I could see the screen.
“Do you really think someone is following that kid?” she said when it became clear that I wasn’t going to start a conversation.
“Not really,” I answered honestly. “I think his anxiety and paranoia are feeding each other, and he’s got himself all spun up over nothing. It sounds like that horror movie kicked it off.”
Fletcher nodded, hooking her heel over the opposite knee. “I did that once. One Halloween weekend, I watched three or four horror movies in a row alone in the dark and spent the next week convinced that there was something around every corner and behind every door.”
“How old were you?” I asked.
She hesitated, cheeks turning slightly pink. “Older than I care to admit. Do you like horror movies?”
“Hell no,” I said far too quickly for my liking.
Fletcher laughed but didn’t mock me for it. “What happened to your old partner?” she asked instead.
“He’s not with us anymore.”
In the rearview mirror, I saw Fletcher’s face go white as she realized her mistake. She opened her mouth once, twice. “I-I’m sorry. What happened, if you don’t mind me asking?”
I rolled the car smoothly through a turn, the gap between us and the oncoming car perhaps a bit small. “Oh, he moved to Edinburgh. Forgets to call.”
Fletcher’s mouth dropped open, and she reached over and punched me in the arm as I began to grin. “I didn’t realize you were funny.”
“He retired about five years after he should have. He’s a chronic workaholic. I’m sure he got bored and applied to be a Special Constable and is now driving everyone in the Edinburgh branch nuts.”
“Were you two close?”
“We became partners when I was a rookie, like you. We worked together for a long time. I was sorry to see him go. Sometimes, I even miss him, but then I remember how much of a pain in the ass he was.”
“I’m great at being a pain in the ass,” Fletcher said, and I laughed.
“Trust me. He’s got the whole world beat in that regard.”
Four
I parked at the back of the school lot just as it started to rain, and Fletcher pulled an umbrella from the black bag she brought with, popping it open as she stepped out of the car. I turned up the collar of my duster and bent my head against the rain.
“You’re one of those,” Fletcher said and held her umbrella aloft to cover me as well, even as I glared at her.
Ivy covered much of the building’s brick face, sharp and green against the red stone while the rain distorted the colourful posters and letters pasted to the inside of the windows. An iron fenced enclosed a small play structure and miniature football field. The school day had ended an hour ago, and so the school grounds were empty and silent beneath the weight of the rain.
Inside, the secretary directed us to the headmaster’s office, and I knocked on the door beneath the plaque that read “Headmaster Finnegan,” a drop of water running down my neck, making me shiver.
“Enter,” a deep voice called from within.
Several floor lamps filled the room with a warm glow. The light gleamed off the rich wooden desk, and dark bookshelves lined two walls, all filled with thick, no doubt literary tomes bound in leather. The windows behind the headmaster’s seat looked out on the play structure, and the blinds were thrown open to let in as much of the watery light as possible. The headmaster himself was a prematurely balding man, his moustache the thickest patch of hair on his entire head. He wore the classic academic knitted waistcoat and bowtie, and he watched us enter with eyes hidden behind a pair of half-moon spectacles.
Fletcher and I flashed our badges at him, and a moment of shock ran across his face.
“What can I do for you, Inspectors?” he asked quickly, motioning for us to sit in the chairs before his desk.
“I’m DCI MacBain. This is DI Fletcher,” I introduced us. “We’re here about the disappearance of Finn Wair. You’re aware he never made it home on Tuesday?”
“Yes.” Finnegan nodded, smoothed his thinning hair. “Ms Wair contacted us about his disappearance, but our after-school monitor for the day, Ms Redding, didn’t notice anything unusual. She saw Finn come out the door… he doesn’t get picked up on Tuesdays, just walks himself to his music class a few streets over… but she didn’t see Finn leave the grounds. Another child was having a meltdown over the state of his crushed crisps. She was distracted.”
“How does Finn do
