The wild coast, p.21
The Wild Coast, page 21
Entering the lab, she spotted Chrissy through the glass and waved to her suited figure. She’d left her working on the wetsuit boots worn by Deirdre, the ribbed rubber soles of which had been caked with a mixture of soil and vegetation, which might give them a clue as to where she had been prior to her burial in the machair at Arisaig.
Spotting her arrival, Chrissy emerged and took off her mask.
‘How’d it go?’ she said, reading Rhona’s expression.
‘I think I caused a minor panic,’ Rhona said. ‘From one killer, they now fear they could have more.’
‘It could explain the timeline and locations more easily,’ Chrissy offered.
‘McNab mentioned that in the meeting,’ Rhona said.
‘So he’s still working?’ Chrissy looked relieved.
‘Bill says he received the video and voicemail in the early hours of the morning. They’ve talked and apparently McNab’s been given twenty-four hours to try and locate Holly, provided it’s kept under wraps. Only immediate colleagues to be made aware,’ Rhona told her.
‘Which must include me?’ Chrissy said.
‘Bill voiced the opinion that you probably already knew. His exact words were, “As we both know, Chrissy McInsh’s ears have a long reach.”’
‘Cheek,’ Chrissy said, although she looked pleased.
‘So how did you get on with the wetsuit and boots?’ Rhona asked.
‘Most of what we recovered externally from the wetsuit matches the sand and vegetation of the grave. The boots, however, were far more interesting.’ Chrissy’s eyes lit up. ‘The soles are like car tyres. All those grooves. I was worried if she’d arrived by boat or kayak, any deposits might have been washed off. But no. The surface layer under the microscope looks like the beach sand at Arisaig. However, there’s lots of interesting material underneath, suggesting she’d walked on different ground and vegetation. Dr Mackie will no doubt be able to point us in the direction of where it was picked up.’
Dr Jen Mackie was a colleague and an expert in soil forensics, and they’d worked together many times. Deirdre Reid had walked to her death in those boots. The material removed from them would hopefully help trace where she’d come from. And maybe where she was kept in the weeks before she was killed.
Chrissy continued. ‘Also swabs were taken from Derek Henderson, although DS Clark said he maintained that he hadn’t entered Callie’s van, and showed no concern at giving a sample.’
Glancing at the wall clock, Rhona suggested Chrissy finish up for the day. ‘I’m going to give Magnus a call,’ she said. ‘I’d like to hear his thoughts on what’s just happened.’
Magnus answered on the third ring, sounding pleased to hear from her.
‘Are you still at work?’ she asked.
‘Just arrived home. Why?’
‘Has Bill been in touch yet?’
‘No.’ Magnus sounded intrigued.
‘I wanted to speak to you about today’s strategy meeting,’ Rhona said.
‘Okay. Do you want to come here? Or shall I come to you?’
Rhona considered this for a moment. ‘I’ll come to you,’ she decided.
‘Okay.’ He sounded pleased. ‘You know where I am.’
As she rang off, she found Chrissy checking her out. ‘You’re going to see the Prof,’ she said, a twinkle in her eye.
‘He’s not all yours,’ Rhona told her in return.
‘What do you want to talk to him about?’
‘Stick men and their significance in this case.’
‘That sounds like a title for one of your forensic course talks,’ Chrissy said.
‘It no doubt will be in the future. As for now, it’s not for the ears of the public.’
Magnus had chosen to live close to the river, so that he might stand on his veranda and view the constantly moving waters of the Clyde below, just as he looked out on Scapa Flow from his harbour home in Orkney.
They were seated in his main room, veranda doors open to the sounds of the river and city combined.
Magnus listened as Rhona repeated what she’d said at the strategy meeting, focusing on the forensic evidence retrieved from the stick men, omitting her own thoughts on the significance of this.
‘I understand you’ve been working on a profile of the perpetrator?’ she asked.
‘I have.’ He looked thoughtful. ‘Although it may change after what you’ve just revealed.’
Rhona listened as he outlined his thinking.
‘I must admit I’ve been puzzled by the timeline of the incidents together with the geography. Broadly speaking, our perceived perpetrator has focused on females who look alike, in age, height, build, hair colour, etc. All three either lived in the vicinity of what’s called the student strip, or in the case of Eléa Martin, was a visitor there. Two have been found dead and one missing along the stretch of road known as the North Coast 500.
‘The abduction either happened in Glasgow, as in Deirdre’s case, or in Eléa and Callie’s cases from campsites close to that route.
‘The method of killing – strangling – was the same. In Deirdre’s case she was kept alive for a month beforehand, and likely throttled on numerous occasions, which suggests the need for power and sexual gratification. Eléa was strangled the night she disappeared. Callie may well still be alive.
‘Both murder victims had a Twana, a symbol of evil left with their body, which we believe symbolized something significant to the killer. In Callie’s case one was left in her van.
‘Now you say these stick men, although outwardly similar, were in fact not exactly the same. Each was bound slightly differently. Two had their victim’s blood on them, but not in the case of the missing Callie. There was secondary blood on Deirdre’s but no secondary blood on Eléa’s. Is that correct?’
Rhona indicated that it was.
‘Even before you explained about the scrapings from Eléa’s fingernails, I suspected . . .’ He halted there.
‘You suspected the stick men might not be the work of one person?’ Rhona said.
‘Indeed. You can buy a variety of Twanas easily via the internet. Even if you buy a number of the same make, I imagine you could still pick up the DNA of those who have made or at the very least handled them, just as you can from a fencepost.’ He smiled then, reminding her of something she had told him on a previous case.
He continued. ‘It is possible that the crimes have been set up to look as though they have been carried out by a single perpetrator, although your recent forensic evidence, added to the timing and geography of the crimes, might point to a group activity rather than an individual. I suspect that was your interpretation?’ He looked to Rhona for confirmation.
When she gave a nod, he carried on.
‘If we’re right and this is a group endeavour, they need not necessarily have ever met in person. All it requires is a shared hatred of women, or in particular those who look similar to the victims, and a meeting place online.’
‘You’re thinking of an incel-type group?’ Rhona said.
Magnus nodded. ‘Either way, they would have made a commitment and spurred each other on. They will be bound together by their decision. In that they would be one.’
They sat in silence, Rhona absorbing what had been said.
Eventually Magnus came back in. ‘Remember, all this is conjecture. It’s you, the scientist, who interprets the forensic evidence. What that tells you isn’t the same as an unproven theory from a criminal psychologist like myself.’ He gave her a wry smile. ‘Detective Sergeant McNab, I think, would agree with me on that.’
It was clear from his expression that this contained an unspoken enquiry as to McNab’s current position in the investigation.
Rhona told him. ‘McNab has spoken to DI Wilson concerning the voicemail, and has leave to try and find the girl Holly.’
Magnus looked relieved about that.
‘Can we discuss the Henderson family now?’ Rhona said.
‘I was hoping we would,’ he told her.
‘Derek Henderson’s been in and given a statement and a DNA sample,’ Rhona told him. ‘He maintains he never entered the blue van. That Orly made it up, to get his mother’s attention.’
‘Was he concerned about being swabbed?’ Magnus asked.
‘Apparently not.’
‘Then he has either covered his tracks enough to feel confident, or it wasn’t him that Orly saw,’ Magnus said. ‘I think we should have Mrs Henderson and the children in again. There’s more going on there than either she or the children were willing to say.’
‘This all began at that campsite,’ Rhona said. ‘If Lucy hadn’t followed her father to the deposition site, Deirdre might never have been found.’
‘Did Mr Henderson explain why the place interested him?’
‘He said the machair had died and he wondered why,’ Rhona said.
‘It seems the man has an answer to everything.’
‘Or we haven’t asked him the right question yet.’
50
Loch Lomond
Day seven
Once she’d persuaded the children into bed, Francine had poured herself a glass of wine and gone out to sit in the garden. The sky showed no sign yet of darkening and the remaining light threw its long rays across the calm surface of the loch.
The earlier serenity that had been so swiftly removed by the arrival at the door of the unknown fisherman had returned when he’d shown her his ID and explained that he was a police officer who’d been given the job of keeping an eye on herself and the children.
‘DI Wilson wanted you and the kids to feel safe,’ he’d told her. ‘So I’m your local fisherman for now.’
At that point she’d invited him inside, but he’d refused. ‘I’m staying in the boathouse just along the shore. If you need me, just come along with the kids, or call this number.’ He’d handed her his card.
‘DI Wilson didn’t mention this would happen,’ she’d told him.
‘I should have been more discreet with my fishing. Once the kids spoke to me, I thought I’d better explain myself in case my presence frightened you.’
They’d said their goodbyes then, but not before he’d added, ‘You can tell the children I’m a friend of Marion’s if you don’t want to alarm them with the police story.’
‘I may just do that,’ she’d said gratefully.
She’d re-entered the kitchen at that point to find the two children awaiting an explanation on the visitor.
‘Our fisherman friend is a Mr Thompson,’ she’d told them. ‘He’s a friend of Marion’s. He’s offered to give me some fresh fish, if he’s lucky tomorrow.’
Orly made a face. ‘You mean fish with eyes and bones? I wouldn’t like that.’
Lucy had agreed with him. ‘We’d rather have fish fingers.’
Francine had laughed at that. ‘Well, you two can have fish fingers and I’ll have the real fish.’
Now, watching the sun slowly sinking into the west, she thought she would look forward to another visit from PC Thompson, and was very glad that DI Wilson had arranged a bodyguard for her.
She would sleep a lot better tonight, knowing he wasn’t far away.
51
Glasgow
Day seven
There was a light on in the front room which suggested that someone was at home, but who exactly? Bonar or some new tenant?
Sitting staring at the house, McNab recalled in detail the last time he’d been here. The Russian girl had managed to get out and flag down a taxi. The driver, seeing the state she was in, persuaded her to go to the police right away, and she’d done so.
After the duty doctor had checked her over, the police had photographed all her injuries: hair torn out by the roots, broken nose, the catalogue of bites and bruising. Then she’d given her statement.
When McNab and the duty officer had come here to arrest Bonar, he’d arrived at the door in his boxers, smelling of drink and shouting the odds at being woken up. He’d denied everything, of course. Said she’d come home drunk and bleeding after a girly fight with a mate.
The kitchen had told a different story, covered as it had been in her blood and clumps of hair.
The anger McNab had felt in that courtroom came flooding back. Bonar should have been put away for at least two years, but he hadn’t been, and this is where it had led. Right back here.
Even as he contemplated this, he knew he shouldn’t be here. He should have reported what he’d found out and left it to someone else to confront Bonar and check for Holly’s presence.
But it was much too personal for that. With this final thought, he got out of the car.
The small front garden had been concreted over, an overflowing bin the only thing growing there. The curtains in the lighted room were tightly shut, and he could hear the TV on full blast, showing what sounded like an action movie, with revving engines and occasional blasts of gunfire.
Moving to the door, he tried the doorbell, wondering if whoever was inside was even likely to notice it.
At the second push of the button, he heard a raised voice order someone to answer the bloody door. At that point a curtain was flicked back. Anticipating such a move, McNab had already tucked himself out of sight.
He heard the door open and someone step out. ‘No one here,’ a male voice shouted.
‘Fucking kids,’ came a voice McNab immediately recognized as Bonar’s. Then, just before the door was shut, he heard the voice he was hoping for . . .
Holly was in there.
Hearing the door close, his first instinct was to go bang on it and announce himself as the police, just as he’d done with Broughton. Although the outcome here was unlikely to be in his favour.
On the plus side, if they did choose to rough him up . . .
He wasn’t here for a rammy, he reminded himself, but to rescue Holly.
But what if she didn’t want to be rescued?
Even as he considered this, his mobile bleeped an incoming text. Staying in the shadows, he read the Where the hell are you? from Janice.
He’d promised to keep his partner up to date, but hadn’t kept his word, worried she might talk him out of coming here.
Abandoning his post, he headed for the car to call her. She answered on the first ring.
‘Thank God,’ she said before he could speak. ‘The shit’s hit the fan. The video is out there and this time your face is clearly visible.’
‘But how’s that possible?’ he said, stunned.
‘Your friend Ollie says it’s undoubtedly doctored. Deep fake, he says, but it’s good, and it’s bound to reach the media, alongside stories of alleged sexual assaults by police officers on the student strip. Where are you?’
‘Following a lead on Holly’s whereabouts.’ He hesitated.
‘And?’ she demanded, sensing more.
‘I may have found her.’
‘Will she come in, d’you think?’
‘I’m hoping so.’
‘Let’s pray she does, but don’t get into more trouble trying to persuade her. The boss wants you in first thing. If you have Holly with you, even better.’
He headed back to the house and this time he beat on the door, and kept hammering until it was answered.
‘What the fuck?’ The guy who opened the door stared belligerently at him.
‘Detective Sergeant McNab. I’m here to speak with Holly Allan.’
The man looked taken aback, then shook his head. ‘There’s no one of that name here, Detective.’
Ignoring his response, McNab pushed past him and shouted Holly’s name. From somewhere nearby he heard Bonar shushing her.
‘Holly Allan,’ McNab called out. ‘This is Detective Sergeant McNab. You are required to come to the station to give a statement regarding an incident at the Blue Arrow nightclub on Sauchiehall Street. If you don’t come quietly, I will have no option but to arrest you.’
Following the sound of raised voices, McNab threw open the door and walked into the kitchen he remembered so well.
Bonar, standing just inside, regarded him in a surprised manner. ‘DS McNab.’ He gave a small laugh. ‘Last I heard of you, you were in deep shit. Something about sexually assaulting young women?’ He made a loud tutting noise.
McNab felt his fist clench with the desire to land one on Bonar’s smug face, already anticipating the crunch as it met the cheekbone.
Don’t go there, an inner voice warned, because that’s exactly what he wants.
Holly was standing with her back against the sink. She looked terrified, but McNab couldn’t read whether she was fearful of him or Bonar.
‘Last time I was in here,’ McNab said quietly, ‘the place was covered in blood and clumps of a woman’s hair torn out by the roots. That woman had twenty-six bites on her body and a broken nose.’ He pointed to Bonar. ‘He did that to her, and she wasn’t the first. Nor will she be the last.’ He tried to catch Holly’s frightened eye. ‘Whatever you’ve done, you’re safer with me.’
He watched as she wrestled with her decision. She had betrayed him, he could see that in her eyes.
‘I read your note,’ he said. ‘That’s why I’m here.’
Bonar’s face darkened as he grabbed Holly’s wrist. ‘What fucking note?’ he spat at her.
In that moment, she appeared to make up her mind. ‘I’ll come with you,’ she said, attempting to pull her wrist free of Bonar.
He fought this briefly, then suddenly let go, sending her flying across the room towards McNab.
Then the warning came. ‘Be careful what you say, girl. Remember, we have ears on the inside.’ Bonar smiled darkly at McNab. ‘And some of them definitely don’t like you, Detective Sergeant McNab.’
Blanking him, McNab took Holly by the arm and led her out of the kitchen, through the hall past the minder and out of the front door. Holly was visibly trembling as he helped her into the vehicle.
