The door had barely closed when Donal got up off the couch and went to his computer. Using his good arm, he attempted to log in to the back-end of the police station’s website.
ACCESS DENIED.
“Damn.”
He had been locked out. Someone had finally woken up to the fact that he was still connected and cancelled his username and password for the site. It was what he had been expecting, but he still found it frustrating. How was he supposed to carry on his investigation if he didn’t have access to the website?
At least Catriona had advised him to make printouts of all the statements he’d had access to while he still could. He wasn’t sure what legal force those printouts would have, but he had dated and signed every page just in case. A police officer’s signature on a document still meant something, although he wasn’t sure that he counted as a police officer any more.
He hadn’t been officially stripped of his status. A trainee officer on administrative leave was still a trainee officer.
The only thing the documents told him was that substantial amounts of money were unaccounted for. They didn’t tell him who was doing the skimming or why. When someone came across fraud on this scale, the correct thing to do was to report it to one’s local police station. But what if it was your local police station that was implicated in the fraud? Who did you report it to? Another police station? Or should he go straight to his seniors in the police training academy?
Two things gave him pause. First, he had no idea how high up this fraud extended. He had already tried to do the right thing by reporting it to his senior officers, including the inspector. All that had got him was a suspension and, possibly, a bullet in the shoulder.
Secondly, whoever had shut him out of the website was probably busy cleaning up the account statements to hide the evidence. If it was true that an independent auditing firm was examining the books, then that firm had been bought off. They would give the division a clean bill of financial health and there would be nothing that Donal could do.
The print-outs he had dated and signed would look pitiful next to the power of a clean audit.
“I can’t do this alone,” he said into the echoing silence of his tiny flat. “I need help.”
It was a relief to say it out loud.
If Catriona hadn’t been days away from giving birth, he would have asked her for help. Her knowledge of accounting would have been useful. But he already felt guilty for the anxiety he had caused her. She needed to be at home with her husband now, not fretting about her brother. That was why he hadn’t mentioned his suspicion that the shooting wasn’t an accident. She would be worried sick, which was the last thing he wanted.
He would have to rely on someone else for help.
Donal wandered over to his fridge to look at that week’s duty roster that he had stuck up with fridge magnets. He was fairly sure that the person he was looking for was not on duty that morning.
He searched through his desk until he found a list of home addresses for his colleagues. The one he was looking for was in Easter Road.
He popped a couple of pain pills to blunt the discomfort of walking around. The doctor had recommended that he go to bed, or at least sit still most of the time while he was recovering. Instead, he tightened the sling and walked out into the street to catch a crosstown bus towards Easter Road.
He felt his knees tremble as he got on the bus and realized he wasn’t nearly as strong as he’d thought. The loss of blood had left him weak, and the anesthetic had disoriented him.
He got out at Easter Road and stared at the row of shops that occupied both sides of the street. The apartment he was looking for must be above one of them.
He found a narrow charity shop that benefited the Lothian Cat Society and realized that the place he was looking for was above it. Access to the upper floor apartments could be gained through a metal gate that led to a staircase. There were several buzzers with numbers on them next to the gate.
Donal looked around for a security camera. When he didn’t find one, he buzzed three or four of the apartments at random. One of them answered with a terse, ‘Hello.’
“Lost my key,” he mumbled into the intercom. There was a sigh at the other end, and the gate clicked open.
He mounted the stairs as quickly as he could, hampered by the fact that the wound in his shoulder was aching like a bad tooth.
He stopped outside number 21 and thought about the person he was expecting to find on the other side of the door. He hadn’t thought much about what he was going to say. He had no words of appeal that could sway his target. In fact, he realized, he had come here without a plan. Rather than turn and walk away, he reached out a hand and knocked on the door.
He had almost given up hope of a response when he heard movement inside the apartment.
A shadow appeared under the door. There were noises, as of someone struggling with a lock.
Then the door was flung open and Donal Macgregor found himself standing face to face with his old tutor constable Duncan Burns.
Burns did a visible doubletake and pulled back immediately. He would have slammed the door in Donal’s face, if Donal hadn’t stuck out a foot so that the door bounced off it.
The door rebounded so quickly, it almost hit Burns in the face. He looked furious.
“What the hell are you doing here? I can’t be seen with you. You need to leave immediately.”
“What are you afraid of, Constable Burns?”
“Afraid of? I’m not afraid of anything, but you shouldn’t be here.”
“Please let me in – I need to speak to you.”
“What you need to do is leave. You’re not welcome here.”
Donal took a step through the front door.
“I know you want to help me, sir. I’m here to show you that you can.”
Chapter 7
Eulalie
She landed with bent knees, tucked her body into a shoulder roll, and came up onto the balls of her feet.
She stood for a moment and listened, making sure she hadn’t been seen or overheard. The staff in the kitchen below were clattering around, probably setting up for breakfast the next day. Their voices were low and unconcerned.
She walked to the edge of the roof and lowered herself to the ground. The campus was dark and quiet. The first lectures of the year were due to start the next day. It looked as though many students had gone to bed early in preparation. There would still be some activity around the Student Union, but otherwise the campus was a ghost town.
Eulalie set off at the slow jog that the people of her village used to cover large distances in a short time. She stayed off the paths and stuck to the shadows as much as possible.
If he was already at his lookout point, she didn’t want him to spot her. She was dressed in black from head to toe, which would make her harder to see. It had occurred to her that she looked like a female version of him, but that was where the resemblance ended. Her goal tonight was to prevent any more pain, not to cause it.
Staying away from the light, she made a big loop around the western boundary of the campus. The loop carried her off campus and up onto the mountain. She slowed to a walk as clouds rolled in, blotting out the light from the moon and stars. If she looked towards the mountain, she saw only blackness. If she turned towards the town, the wash of light scattered below threatened to disturb her night vision.
Keeping her eyes firmly ahead, Eulalie continued her arc around the slope of the mountain, avoiding the clump of trees she had found earlier that day. If that really was his lookout point, she wanted to approach it from behind, while all his attention was focused on the campus below.
The air was very quiet. The traffic sounds from the city were muffled at this altitude. Wisps of mist blew in and settled clammily over her skin, dampening the sound even more.
Eulalie walked with a steady tread.
Then she stopped. In her mind’s eye, she seemed to see a fat, scaly body perfectly camouflaged in the grass a
nd the dirt.
Unlike others of its kind, it was not frightened away by the vibrations of her footsteps. It lay, sluggish and unmoving, across her path.
She saw herself stand on it with her booted foot. She saw its head rear up with wicked speed and strike at her leg, sinking its fangs into her calf through the thin material of her leggings. She felt venom being injected into her bloodstream.
The cytotoxic effects would take hold fast – severe pain, swelling, tissue necrosis, massive muscle and nerve damage. She could be dead within a day without treatment.
Eulalie blinked, and suddenly she was back on the path, her foot frozen in mid-air.
Moving slowly, she backed away from what looked like a thick branch lying across her path. It was a puff-adder. Then she walked around it until she re-joined the path twenty feet ahead.
She had drawn level with the clump of bushes but was too far away to see if anyone was there. If he had taken up his position, he hadn’t lit a fire yet. That much she could see.
Eulalie approached the clump of bushes to make sure. There was no one there. As far as she could see, the last person to have been there was herself that afternoon. Perhaps it was still too early for him.
She retreated to a safe distance and settled down to wait.
The minutes stretched into hours, but there was no sign of life on the mountain. Eulalie knew she was well hidden. He wouldn’t spot her even if he was expecting to see her. But just in case, she retreated even further away and made sure she was completely out of sight. Still, nobody came. Midnight came and went, and the temperature on the mountain dropped steadily. She put on the extra jacket she had brought with her and ate an energy bar to stay warm.
From her vantage point, she could see the extra security patrols the campus had put in place. The police were also more visible than usual, doing constant drive-bys around the campus.
Had the extra security scared him off? It was possible.
She appreciated that they were doing their job, but the only way to stop him was to catch him. Eventually, the security presence would go back to normal, and he would come out of hiding again.
The sky began to lighten in the east. Dawn was not far off. It was almost the same time of day as when Whitney had been attacked.
As the sky lightened steadily, Eulalie saw walkers and joggers begin to appear on the hiking trails. And still there was no sign of the man who had made the clump of bushes his base.
Eulalie stayed on high alert, watching the women who ventured out for their morning exercise. Most were in pairs or groups, having taken the warnings to heart. There were a number of men out on the trails too and Eulalie kept a close eye on them.
It had occurred to her that the man might be stalking women by posing as a hiker or jogger.
Only when it was full daylight, and nothing had happened did she feel as though it was safe enough to go to bed. Her first lecture of the day – an Introduction to Psychology – was at eleven. If she went back to her room right now, she could get maybe four hours’ sleep. She would be wrecked when she woke up, but it would be better than not sleeping at all. It was frustrating to have wasted a night like this, and not be any closer to achieving her goal.
When she got back in her room, she closed the shutters as well as the curtains to block out as much light as possible. Then she stripped down to her underwear and collapsed into bed.
Pain. She was in so much pain.
Her skin was burning and stinging where he had cut her repeatedly with the point of his knife. She must have passed out for a while because it was light again. It had been light when he had taken her, and now it was light again. In between, there had been darkness. It was under the cover of darkness that he had done most of the cutting.
She pulled and heaved against her restraints, but nothing helped. The cable ties he had used to secure her wrists behind her back were too strong. Her shoulders screamed in protest at being pulled back in this unnatural position for so long.
Where was he? He had been gone for ages. Maybe he wasn’t coming back. She wished she could rid herself of the tape he had slapped over her mouth. Then she could scream for help. She could make someone hear her. But just like the cable ties, the tape remained firmly in place.
A wave of nausea threatened to overcome her. She knew she had lost a lot of blood.
He let the others go. He let the others go.
The words echoed in her head. The other girls had been released. However traumatized they might be, they were now free to live their lives.
He would let her go too. Of course he would. That was his pattern. He played with the girls and then he let them go. Perhaps he had already let her go, and she just didn’t know it. Perhaps all she needed to do was roll over onto her front, pull her knees up to her chest, and make herself sit up. Then she could hop on her cable-tied feet to a place where people could see her.
She had a pretty good idea of where she was. There was an old gas station on the edge of campus quite close to the main road. When he had pulled her out of her car as she stopped at a red light, he had dragged her behind that gas station. She was nearly sure they hadn’t moved after that.
She shuddered as she thought of his heavy, excited breathing as he gave her more and more cuts with the knife. The thought that he might be coming back to do it all over again lent her strength. She rolled from her side to her stomach, pulling her knees up under her as she went. With a massive effort of will, she managed to drag herself up into a half-sitting, half-crouching position. The ground was slick with blood. Her blood.
Gritting her teeth, she tried to rise to her feet. Her ankles had been bound together so tightly and for so long that her feet were swollen and numb.
She knew they wouldn’t be able to support her weight, but still she struggled to be upright.
She had just managed to rock herself back onto her haunches when a heavy weight descended on her back. It shoved her forward until she toppled face-down into the dirt.
It was him. He was back.
Donal
Knowing that he was overstepping several boundaries, Donal pushed his way into the flat and closed the door behind him.
Even he could tell that his former tutor constable was very angry indeed.
“You just took whatever was left of your career and set a match to it,” said Burns. “Do you smell something burning? That’s your career going up in flames.”
“I’m truly sorry about this, sir. I wouldn’t have come if I still believed that you were part of it.”
“For God’s sake, Macgregor. Part of what?”
“Part of the conspiracy to have me shot.”
There was silence in the flat. Constable Burns just looked at him. Then he turned away.
“Come and sit down, lad. You don’t know what you’re saying. Let’s talk about this calmly.”
He led Donal to a couple of armchairs that had been set up in front of a television. He had to lift a pile of newspapers off one of them before he could sit down. Donal was struck by how similar this flat was to his own. The difference was that Donal was just twenty years old and starting out in his career. Constable Burns was at least fifty and had been on the job for thirty years.
Burns noticed Donal looking around.
“Let this be a warning to you, lad. This is what happens when your wife kicks you out. If you had come to visit me a year ago, you would have found me in a three-bedroom house in Muirhouse. The wife and kids are still there. She said I lacked ambition and booted me out, if you can believe it.” He gave a bark of self-mocking laughter. “She wanted me to get onto the detective track years ago. Couldn’t understand that I was happy to stay in uniform for the rest of my life. She knew who she was marrying. She can’t say I ever pretended to be something I’m not. But suddenly who I was wasn’t good enough anymore.”
Donal blinked at this outpouring of personal confession. He knew the conversation was going off track but had no idea how to correct it.
“Don’t
ever get married, Donal, lad. It’s a mug’s game.”
“I’m sorry for your troubles, sir. The reason I came here today…”
“You came here to make trouble for me, boy. No sense in hiding it. I have a wife and two kids to support. It was our silver wedding anniversary yesterday. How about that? My kids are about to go off to college. I have a steady job with a steady income, and I can’t afford to get involved in your foolishness.”
Donal raised his voice, trying to take control of the situation.
“Sir, you were genuinely shocked to see that I had been shot the other day. I’m not good at reading people, but even I could tell that much.”
Constable Burns rolled his eyes to the ceiling. “Of course I was shocked, lad. Your chest was welling with blood. I thought you’d been killed. None of us suspected that the protestors would be armed. People were running around screaming and losing their minds when they saw you bleeding like that. Everyone was in shock. Everyone.”
“I wasn’t shot by a protestor, sir. I think you know that.”
“I don’t know anything of the sort. Bunch of whackos running around and calling themselves Nazis. Of course it was one of them.”
“No, sir. That shot was fired from an M24 sniper rifle by a professional who was waiting on one of the rooftops on the opposite side of the street. The shooter knew I was wearing a Kevlar vest, which is not something a civilian would necessarily have known. He also knew where the weak spot of the vest is. It protects the body mass, but if you can get a shot in from a high angle just below the collar bone, you can kill the wearer.”
“This is fantasy, lad. Pure Hollywood.”
“I’ve pieced it together, sir. I was standing still at parade rest when the sniper was aiming. The march had been peaceful up to that point. Just one or two little incidents. We were lined up and stationery. Then I noticed a couple of marchers approaching one of the shops. They were carrying half-bricks, so I stepped forward to intervene. It was that sudden movement that spoiled the shot. The bullet was deflected by the edge of the vest and achieved only shallow penetration. It was a 175-grain round with a hollow-point boat tail and a chamber pressure of 5200 PSI, sir. It would have gone through me like a missile. If I hadn’t spoiled his aim, I’d be dead now.”
The Complete H-Series of The Eulalie Park Mysteries Page 72
