Oh for Youre in work, arent you? You do know the Churchs booked for half one?
Yes, but-
Half one. On the dot.
Had to sort out a PM for Jenny McGregors toe, and-
Dont make me drag you out of there, cause I will.
Doc Fraser says shes dead.
Silence. Shit Im sorry.
Yeah, me too. Logan glanced up at the poster on the wall: HAVE YOU ANY INFORMATION? The photo was a smiling mother and daughter, standing on Aberdeen beach, caught in a shaft of golden light, the cold grey swell of the North Sea foam-flecked and angry behind them. Now it was only a matter of time before the bodies turned up.
Anyway, yes: half one. Ill be there, OK?
Good. Love you. And the line went dead.
He checked his watch just gone eleven then his email. Memo; directive; memo; Sheriff Court times for everyone arrested last night at Shuggie Websters house; general update on the hunt for Jenny and Alison McGregors kidnappers; details of the emergency media briefing at half three; an invitation to PC Hendersons leaving bash-
A knock on the door.
Logan looked up from his screen to see Acting DI Mark MacDonald, clutching a little parcel about the size of a hardback book.
Logan nodded. Guv.
MacDonald cleared his throat. Look, its been a bastard of a week He clunked the door shut behind him and settled on the edge of his old desk, one finger tracing a figure-of-eight on the laminate wood surface. He held out the parcel. Peace offering?
Logan unwrapped the brown paper. There was a brass plaque inside, mounted on a dark wooden plinth: THE WEE HOOSE. A couple of screws and rawlplugs were Sellotaped to the back.
I thought it could, you know: go on the wall outside.
Thanks.
MacDonald nodded. Then sagged. Fuck me, being a DI is a pain in the arse. You dont want to swap do you?
Do I hell.
When it was Doreens turn, what did she get? Two attempted murders and a run of unlawful removals. Three sodding months, Bill got nothing but break-ins. Me? I get the fucking McGregors. He tugged at the edges of his goatee beard. Its not bloody fair.
Logan powered his computer down again. Never is.
Sure you dont want to take your turn early?
Sorry, Mark got a briefing to go to.
Three month job-share trial period my arse. He picked the plaque up from Logans desk. Held it against his chest. You remember how Insch used to take his pulse the whole time? Stick two fingers to his throat whenever he was going purple? I dont need to do that. I can hear the bloody thing pounding in my ears.
All right, thats enough. Finnie stood at the front of the room with his hands up, until silence settled across the crowd again. Everyone involved in the investigation was jammed into FHQs major incident room, the biggest in the building: CID, uniform, and support staff perched on chairs and desks, staring. The top brass sat at the front with Finnie, looking as if they were on their way to a funeral Chief Superintendent Baldy Bain, the Assistant Chief Constable, the Deputy Chief Constable, and God himself Chief Constable Anderson all done up in full dress regalia, their silver buttons polished to a mirror shine.
One of the admin officers stuck up her hand.
Finnie stared at her for a moment. Yes?
Are you sure shes dead?
The head of CID pursed his lips. No, I just made that bit up, because I thought it would be a fun excuse to get everyone together so we could plait each others hair! Anyone have any other stupid questions?
The admin officer went pink and lowered her hand. Finnie scowled around the room. We are now investigating the abduction and murder of a six-year-old girl, and the abduction of her mother. Media briefings at half three; Chief Superintendent Bain will be making the announcement about Jennys death. Im sure the media will do its usual sterling job of appealing for calm and reasoned reflection at this diffi cult time, but just in case: Acting DI MacDonald, you are now in charge of crowd control. I dont want some journalistic toss-pot using this to whip up a riot, understand?
Logan watched Mark squirm in his seat.
Yes, sir.
And I want every chiz handler weve got, out there pulling in their sources someone, somewhere has to know something. DI McPherson, you can handle that.
Which was bloody doubtful, McPherson could barely handle tying his own shoelaces. But at least this would keep him out of trouble: Covert Human Intelligence Sources were OK for burglaries and low-level drug trafficking, but whoever snatched Alison and Jenny McGregor werent going to brag about it over a pint in Dodgy Petes, were they?
Finnie pointed at the crumpled mess sitting next to Logan. DI Steel will be coordinating with all the other forces in the UK. Just because they were snatched in Aberdeen, doesnt mean theyre being held here. Finnie turned to his boss, Chief Superintendent Baldy Bain. Sir?
Bain stood, gave the standard motivational were all in this together/everyones depending on us/justice for Jenny speech. Then he turned and nodded at the newcomer, sitting with the bigwigs. Right: we have Superintendent Green from the Serious Organized Crime Agency with us. Superintendent, I think you want to say a few words?
Thanks. He got to his feet and flashed them a smile, straight white teeth and furrowed brow. Before we go any further I just want you all to know that SOCA isnt here to tell you how to do your jobs, or take the investigation away from Grampian Police. Im just here to provide a fresh pair of eyes, a sense-check, and all the support I can.
And now Acting DI Mark MacDonald wasnt the only one squirming in his seat. But no one stood up and called Green a lying tosser.
OK, so, while Im up here: other options. How about background checks?
Finnies smile looked painful. Ongoing. Ive got six teams working their way through Alison McGregors colleagues and neighbours. Weve already interviewed everyone on her course.
Family?
Adopted when she was three. Foster parents are both dead one cancer, one heart attack. Husbands parents went in a house fire seven years ago.
Green nodded, chewed the inside of his cheek for a moment. What about the production company?
Finnie looked at Acting DI MacDonald.
Mark fumbled his way into a blue folder and pulled out a trembling sheet of paper. I spoke to the Met this morning and they say theyve been through Blue-Fish-Two-Fish Productions with a nit comb. Company has a reputation for some pretty extreme publicity stunts, but DI Mark checked the sheet again, DI Broddur thinks theyd draw the line at kidnapping their own artistes. And they certainly wouldnt kill a wee-
OK. Green nodded. Good work.
Finnie cleared his throat. So, if theres nothing else-
Apart from the obvious? Dont just profile the offender, we need to profile the victim too. Green turned, sweeping his arms out, indicating the scribbled whiteboards, scrawled flip-charts, and crowded corkboards that lined the incident room. We need to go back to the start, sift through everything weve got. Theres a connection here something that links Jenny and Alison McGregor to the bastards who kidnapped them. We just have to find it.
Acting DI Mark MacDonald got as far as the window of DI Steels office, turned round and paced back towards the door, about-faced and did it all over again. Theres a connection here, we just have to find it. Round again. Could that bastard be any more of a cliche if he tried?
Oh, park your arse and stop whining. Steel pulled the e-cigarette from her gob, tilted her head back, opened her mouth in a wide O and puffed. But instead of a perfectly-formed smoke ring, a mangled amoeba tumbled its way towards the ceiling. Youre just jealous, because hes sex and chips.
Hes a cock. Mark slumped into the visitor chair next to Logans and glowered. Coming up here, telling us how to-
Least youre on crowd control. Ive got to play nice with Officer Tosser from every sodding force in the country. She tried for another smoke ring. Failed. Laz, get a statement together: inter-force cooperation, agreed response times, service levels, utmost importance to catching Jennys killer, blah, blah, blah.
Cant. Logan stuck his mug on Steels desk and stood. Groaned. Stretched. Slumped. Was supposed to be out of here at twelve, remember? Ive got-
A thing, aye, youve been banging on about your mysterious thing for weeks. It really more important than finding out who killed a wee girl and hacked off her toe?
Oh no you dont Ive been on duty for He checked his watch. Christ, thirty hours straight. Well, with one hour off to clamber into his empty bed, but that hardly counted. He threw in a yawn for good measure. Shattered
She pursed her lips, narrowed her eyes. Fine, Ill get Rennie to do it. Happy?
Ive got to go.
Steel pointed a finger at him, the skin stained yellow, the cherry-red nail varnish chipped. Tomorrow morning, seven oclock, on the sodding dot. And bring-
The phone on her desk rang. Sod She peered at the display, then snatched up the receiver. Susan? Whats No Susan, calm down, its Steel crumpled forward, until her head was resting on the desktop. No. No Im not saying that, Susan, its Yes
Logan slipped out through the door.
Chapter 10
You sure you want to go through with this? Samantha squeezed his hand.
Logan swallowed, blinked, cranked his smile up a notch. Yes. Its fine. Really. I want to do this. He ran a finger around the inside of his shirt collar. Just a bit you know.
Youre not just doing this for me, are you?
Of course he was. Well, maybe. A bit anyway.
The Church was bathed in sunlight, the walls glowing with bright colours, a bunch of flowers in a vase perfuming the air.
No. I really want to do this.
Only, if you want to back out, Ill understand. She looked away. Because, youve got to commit to this for the rest of your life
A shadow fell across them, and Logan looked up to see a large bald man beaming at him though a Grizzly Adams beard, a dog collar just visible through all that hair. Are we ready?
Sam squeezed Logans hand again. Last minute nerves.
The big man nodded. I understand. Its a big step, but Im here to make it as easy as possible. He patted Logan on the shoulder. Shall we?
Deep breath. Glance at Samantha smiling with her brows all furrowed, the silver ring in her nose sparking in the sunlight. Back to the Reverend. Nod.