Vicky followed him, but slowly. ‘Watch for the ice, sir.’
‘Aye, aye.’ But Forrester wasn’t to be deterred. ‘Ryan!’
A car door opened and a tall bugger got out, his face obscured by a thick beard. His bald head caught the light. DS Ryan Ennis was weaving about, like he was drunk. ‘Eh?’
Vicky felt her gut clench in that sickening way. Christ knows how Ennis did what he did to her, but he did it.
‘Been trying to bloody call you!’ Forrester held out his phone, emphasising his point. ‘I’ve texted, I’ve left voicemails! Where the hell have you been?’
Ennis leaned back against his car and folded his arms. ‘Daughter’s run off again. Took her granda’s car. Suspect she’s seeing her boyfriend, but I’ve no bloody idea who he is. Neither does Kelly. And I’m raging.’ He didn’t seem to be anything like raging. Just stood there, with the same dead expression on his face. He looked over at Vicky and his eyes twinkled with mischief. ‘Vicks. Just you wait until wee Bella’s seventeen, then you’ll see.’
Vicky clenched her jaw tight.
Before she could say anything, Forrester was in Ennis’s face. ‘You’ve got a bloody cheek. Can’t get hold of your daughter and you’re raging? Why aren’t you at least doing me the courtesy of letting me know you’d gone off duty? Eh?’
Ennis sniffed, eyes shut. ‘Sorry, Dave.’
‘Don’t “Dave” me. This is serious. A lassie’s been killed and—’
‘Said I’m sorry.’
Forrester stood there, his tongue worming around in his cheek. Vicky knew that look. Trying to figure out how much punishment to mete out.
‘Wait a wee minute.’ Ennis shot into action, charging across the car park like a bull driving at a matador, his heavy feet pounding away.
While he was distracted by Ennis’s appearance and equally sudden disappearance, Vicky nudged Forrester’s arm. ‘Sir, now he’s turned up, do you mind if me and Karen can get off home?’
‘Give me a bloody minute!’ Forrester started off after Ennis.
As much as Vicky wanted to get home, this kind of drama needed to be sorted out. And Ennis was prone to worse. So she followed too.
Ennis had a hold of Considine’s suit lapels and had pulled him close. ‘Of course I do, you arsehole!’ Ennis looked like he was going to chin him.
Forrester was trying to prise him off. ‘What the bloody hell is going on?’
‘This big wanker—’
‘You, son, are a useless wee fanny.’ Ennis took a step forward, head jutting out towards Considine, but he stopped short of sticking the head on him. ‘How could you not know?’
Forrester got some traction and hauled Ennis away from Considine. ‘Know what, Ryan?’
Ennis stood there, head darting around. ‘The car.’ His shaking hand was pointing at a battered old Peugeot that surely couldn’t be roadworthy. Bruise purple, with lichen or moss growing in the radiator. ‘It’s…’ He took a deep breath. ‘It’s my wife’s father’s car.’
Forrester frowned. ‘Does he work here?’
Ennis shook his head. ‘My… daughter uses it to ferry the old bugger around. Teresa… She’s…’ He barged past Forrester, then set off into a jog, then as close to a sprint as his giant frame could manage. ‘Teri!’
He was heading for the crime scene.
Vicky raced off after him, but he was at the tent before she was halfway there. And Karen was no match for his bulk, half his weight. At least. But she had a baton extended, raised behind her back, saying something lost to Ennis’s manic shouting.
Vicky grabbed his arm and pulled him back.
The ice was on her side and he slipped and slid towards her. ‘That’s my daughter in there!’
Vicky kept hold of his arm. ‘We’ll show you a photo, okay?’
‘Fine.’
Karen kept a glare fixed on Ennis, ready to smash him with her baton.
Vicky walked over to the crime scene tent. ‘Jen, can you show us a photo?’
Jenny peered out, holding a tablet computer. ‘Here.’
‘Cheers.’ Vicky held it out to Ennis. ‘Is this her?’
Panting hard, Ennis stared at the screen, mouth hanging open. He collapsed into Vicky’s arms.
She let two of the bigger nearby uniforms take him, then stared into his eyes. ‘Ryan, is it Teresa?’
Ennis shook his head. ‘No. It’s not.’
‘Do you recognise—?’
‘Why the bloody hell is her car here?’
Vicky grabbed his lapels now. ‘Ryan, do you recognise her?’
Ennis looked right at her, then nodded slowly. ‘Aye. Aye, I do. She’s… She’s a friend of Teresa’s. Name is Carly Johnston.’
3
Adelaide Place was a long street filled with big old houses just that bit too close together. The Johnstons’ home was one of the more spread out, and had a great view down to the Tay, with both bridges glowing in the freezing fog.
Vicky turned to face Forrester, silhouetted by the lights of Dundee behind him, stretching down the Law to the pitch-black Tay. On a night like this, it almost felt like a safe place. ‘Hate doing this.’
Forrester looked up from his phone, the brightness catching his face. ‘What, interrupting a pleasant dinner party to tell parents their pride and joy has been killed and maybe raped?’ He let out a thick sigh. ‘Aye, it’s shite.’
Vicky rang the bell and let it chime. Inside the house, soft jazz played from somewhere, accompanied by laughing and joking. Some kind of party, or maybe just watching a film at ear-splitting volume. She stepped back, clasping her hands around her back. She didn’t know what to do with them, where to put her fingers, now squirming against her palms.
Forrester clicked his jaw, in that really sickening way. ‘Poor Ryan.’
Vicky nodded.
Still, nobody was answering.
Forrester stepped forward and rapped his knuckles on the door, that stern policeman’s pattern that never failed.
‘Poor lad didn’t take being sent back to the station too well.’
Vicky clenched her hands into fists. ‘I think you should’ve sent him home.’
‘Eh?’ Forrester shook his head. ‘Him remaining
