Buried Secrets (DCI MacBain Scottish Crimes Book 1)

by Oliver Davies

  “Sure is,” Fletcher answered helpfully. “How does a common criminal like you afford representation like that?”

  O’Connell didn’t answer, but I saw a sliver of unease pass through his eyes.

  “Unfortunately, we just got word that your appointed lawyer is stuck in traffic, so it might be awhile before he gets here.”

  “I’m not saying a thing without her here,” O’Connell repeated.

  “Here’s the issue, though, we don’t have time for that.” I sounded almost apologetic, and I managed to keep the smirk off my lips. “So why don’t you just tell us everything? We’ve got you for kidnapping, assaulting an officer, interfering with a police investigation… Am I missing anything, Fletcher?”

  “Being a prick?” Fletcher suggested.

  “Sadly, that’s not punishable by law, but the others do come with some hefty prison sentences. How much more of your life do you want to waste behind bars?”

  O’Connell had already been in prison for three years for assault and aggravated robbery. From the grey in his beard, he was getting on in life. I was hoping his desire to avoid prison would be stronger than his loyalty to his employer. I was sure there had to be someone else behind this, someone paying for that high-powered lawyer currently stuck in traffic. The lackeys we’d encountered so far didn’t really seem like the scheming type.

  O’Connell hesitated, and I could tell I was getting to him. Undoubtedly, Smith, Flynn, and MacDonald could wriggle him out of any charge we threw his way, but maybe he was too dumb to realize that.

  “Tell us what we want to know, and I’m sure we can come to an arrangement,” I said, trying to push him over the line into agreeing. Fletcher leaned forward as if sensing our oncoming victory.

  But O’Connell doubled down and shook his head. “Lawyer. Now.”

  I saw a flash of myself leaping over the table to smash his stupid, thick face into the wall behind him, but I shook the image away, forcing my face calm so O’Connell wouldn’t know he was getting under my skin.

  “Fine,” I said and snapped his file shut. “We’ll be back when your lawyer arrives.”

  I stood sharply and stalked out the door, though I took care not to slam it this time. “That went well.”

  “What an absolute prick,” Fletcher huffed. “Did you also want to hit him over the head with a blunt object?”

  “I was thinking the wall.”

  Fletcher laughed quietly. “Are we going to wait for his lawyer?”

  “Right now, we’re going to see MacGowan. Maybe there’s he didn’t think of before.”

  “What are we going to tell Ainslee?” Fletcher asked as we made our way towards the back of the station where the holding cells were kept.

  “I have no idea. The truth, I guess.” Ainslee Wair had a right to know what was going on in the case, even if it would cause her pain.

  I held the door open for Fletcher, and we entered the cool, grey stone corridor that led to the holding cells. A glass partition blocked the hallway off from the rest of the room, and we signed in with the clerk there before he buzzed us through and pointed us towards MacGowan’s cell.

  The thief lay on his back on the low wooden bench at the back of the cell, hands tucked behind his head, one knee bent. His eyes were closed, but I could tell he wasn’t sleeping. I rapped on the bars, and his eyes cracked open, his head turning to regard us.

  “Looks like it went well,” he said.

  “Finn wasn’t there, and his kidnappers were waiting for us. I’m sorry.”

  MacGowan sat up, a despondent look on his face. “Finn’s dead, isn’t he?”

  “We don’t know that,” Fletcher said quickly. “We’ve got one of the men in custody, though he won’t talk until his lawyer gets here.”

  “Is there anything you can think of that you didn’t tell us before?” I asked.

  MacGowan rubbed at his face as he tried to think.

  “We believe there has to be a mastermind behind this,” I continued. “What kind of common criminal wants a deed to a ramshackle castle in the middle of nowhere? Do you know of any players with big money?”

  “I worked for hire. Most of the people I stole for preferred to stay anonymous.” He hesitated. “Allegedly stole for.”

  If there was a leader hidden in the wings, they probably hid their criminal predilections behind a perfectly legitimate facade. That would make them hard to track down. It became a question of want. What exactly did this person, or organization, want from the Castle of Old Wick? What was so important or valuable to go through the trouble of kidnapping a child for? If we knew that, maybe we could get a bead on their identity.

  Before we left, I took one last look at MacGowan, at the way he drooped within the cell, head sunk to his hands, elbows resting on his knees.

  “Listen,” I said slowly. “This is probably way outside protocol, but we have to update Ainslee on the case. What do you want us to tell her about your involvement?”

  MacGowan lifted his head from his hands, seemingly shocked by my question. “Don’t tell her I’m involved. She doesn’t know what I am, and I don’t want her to. Please.”

  “Okay. I won’t. And I know this isn’t my place, but you should think about reaching out to your son when all this is over. He may be young and not concerned with it now, but at some point, he will feel abandoned, and he will hold it against you. You don’t want that.”

  MacGowan’s eyes sharpened, and there was just a bit of a growl in his voice when he replied. “You’re right. It’s not your place.”

  “Fine, fine.” I held up my hands in surrender. “Thank you for all your help, Mr MacGowan. Have a nice time in prison.”

  And we left him there, alone in a cell with only the stone walls for comfort.

  “Someone’s got daddy issues,” Fletcher whispered at my back as we emerged into the station’s harshly lit main floor.

  I snapped my head around and glowered at her. “I do not have daddy issues.”

  She smirked and raised her hands in an imitation of the gesture I’d given MacGowan. “Whatever you say, boss.”

  I narrowed my glare to make sure I got my point across and then let the subject drop. “I need you to find all you can on the Castle of Old Wick. If we can figure out what they dug up, maybe we can dig up who took Finn. Look into Allraise Ventures as well. Dunnel said there’s a file on my desk. We need to know what their goal is.”

  “What are you going to do?”

  “I’m going to go tell Ainslee what we’ve found out.” It was not a task I relished, but someone had to tell her that we’d failed to find her son. Better it be me, the senior partner, than put that on the rookie’s shoulders during her first case. Then I remembered the poor wreck that was my vehicle. “Can I borrow your car?”

  Fletcher passed me her keys with a nod. “Good luck.”

  “You too.”

  I found Fletcher’s Renault out in the lot and fired up the engine. It took me a moment to get a feel for the unfamiliar clutch, but before long, I was cruising through the streets towards Ainslee Wair’s house, eyes peeled for any sign of a suspicious white delivery van. She lived within walking distance of the school, and I parked in the street outside her small townhouse. Hers was the middle unit, and apprehension crawled in my stomach as I approached the door.

  I rang the bell and waited. There were two other cars in the shared drive, so there was a good chance she was home. If I had a missing kid, I’d probably never want to leave my house, just in case he showed back up on the doorstep at some odd hour.

  The door cracked open, and Ainslee’s pale face peered out at me from behind the short chain. Her eyes widened with shock as she recognized me, but it wasn’t a good kind of shock as she took in the large scrape across my cheek. Her face immediately fell, crumpling as if it were a sheet of paper crushed within a fist.

  “Ms Wair,” I said. “May I come in?”

  Fighting back tears, she nodded and opened the door all the way for me. I follow
ed her into the small den. Several pictures of Finn sat on the mantle above the fireplace. Most were school photos, marking his progress through the years, but there was also a candid shot of him happily exploring a rocky outcropping above a stream flowing into a pool of water, bundled up in a thick coat, hat, and that white and red scarf. I felt a pang of sadness at the sight of them, quickly followed by an almost furious determination to find him and bring him home.

  “Can I get you some tea? Coffee?” Ainslee asked as she motioned for me to take a seat in a wood back rocking chair.

  “No, thank you,” I said, though I was dying for another cup of coffee. “Sit down. I have news of the case.”

  “Oh, no.” Ainslee onto the worn, brown couch and clutched one of the throw pillows to her chest. She looked like she had already convinced herself of the worse and was just waiting for my confirmation.

  Lena Taggert appeared out of the kitchen, a steaming mug in her hand. She wore a billowy white shirt emblazoned with blue jays tucked into a pair of black jeans, her blond curls loose and brushing her shoulders. She froze when she saw me, just as my pulse stuttered to a halt at the sight of her.

  “I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you had company,” I said. The fuzzy overhead light played with her hair, turning strands of it gold, and I found myself distracted by its shine.

  “Lena came over with breakfast,” Ainslee explained. “She wanted to check in with me.”

  “I can go, if you want,” Lena said hesitantly, eyes locked on mine.

  “No, please, stay.” Ainslee waved her towards the open end of the couch. She looked at me. “If that’s okay?”

  “I don’t see why not.”

  Lena sat beside Ainslee, setting her mug down on the end table on top of a coaster, and held out her hand for Ainslee to grasp. Lena’s face twitched when Ainslee crushed her fingers in a death grip, but she didn’t say anything.

  “We got an anonymous tip that the people who took your son have some kind of vested interest in the Castle of Old Wick,” I began, leaving MacGowan’s name out of it. “We believe they’ve been watching the investigation. We gave chase when we spotted them lurking outside Mrs Cohen’s house, but they got away, and they were the same people we found at the castle when we went to confront them. Finn wasn’t there. I’m sorry.” My voice dropped out of its professional, report-giving tone when I saw the blooming tears in Ainslee’s face. “We did manage to bring in one of them. Does the name Seamus O’Connell mean anything to you?”

  Ainslee shook her head, and Lena passed her a tissue to blow her nose on. “I don’t think so.”

  “Might he have any connection to your ex-husband?” I asked. MacGowan said he didn’t recognize any of the three people who’d cornered him, but maybe O’Connell hadn’t been there.

  “Richard didn’t have many friends. He was kind of a loner. He said Finn and I were all he needed. I guess…” She sniffled. “I guess that wasn’t true in the end.”

  Despite claiming to love her, MacGowan had hidden an awful lot from Ainslee. I might not have had a solid foundation of relationships behind me, but I knew you shouldn’t build them on secrets, especially big, life-shattering ones like ‘oh hey, I’m actually a well-renowned thief with a bunch of shady contacts.’ I couldn’t tell her that MacGowan hadn’t abducted her son without also revealing that we’d spoken to him.

  “You found my son’s scarf, didn’t you?” Ainslee asked once she’d gathered herself some. “You called me to ask about it.”

  “Yes, in the alley behind the school.” I hesitated, not sure if I should tell her the next part, but I figured if I were in her place, I’d want to know. “The lab found blood on it.”

  Lena visibly flinched as Ainslee clutched her fingers in a grip fit to split stone. Ainslee choked off a sob, covering her mouth with her free hand as her shoulders began to shake. Lena slid closer and began to rub her back in gentle circles.

  “We suspect it was just a bloody nose from the struggle in the alley,” I said quickly to comfort her, keep her from spinning out. “Nothing more serious.”

  My statement wasn’t as reassuring as I’d thought it was, and I realized that as soon as the words were out of my mouth as another sob escaped Ainslee’s mouth. I kicked myself. Of course, it was horrible to know that your child had been injured in a terrifying and violent altercation and was now alone and frightened in an unfamiliar place, surrounded by strangers with sinister intentions. I’d meant to imply that at least Finn was still alive, but I’d accidentally also implied that he might not be at some point.

  I looked to Lena for help as Ainslee buried her face in her hands. She shook her head at me and shrugged slightly but leaned in closer to give Ainslee a hug. “Think of it this way,” she said. “These people haven’t gotten what they want yet. Finn’s their leverage. That means he’s safe.”

  That wasn’t the right thing to say, either, because all Ainslee heard was ‘for now.’

  I gave her a ‘what have you done?’ look, and she replied with a ‘you started it’ eyebrow. The unfortunate thing was, I didn’t think there was any right thing to say in this situation. The only way to make this better was to find her son.

  I levered myself out of the rocking chair and crouched before the couch, pulling one of Ainslee’s hands away from her face and giving it a squeeze. She looked up at me with tear-streaked cheeks, her eyes rimmed red and a little bloodshot.

  “I’ll bring him home, and I’ll get the people who kidnapped him. I promise, okay?”

  Ainslee stared at me hard, her glassy eyes boring right into my soul, and though I couldn’t bear the pressure of her gaze, I didn’t look away. I allowed her her search, and eventually, she seemed to find what she was looking for because she nodded, twitched her lips, and released my hand.

  I took a deep breath, and I found that I, too, was shaking as I stood. “I should go. Work to do and all that.”

  “I should go, too,” Lena said. “I have rehearsal in a few hours. Will you be okay?”

  “Alana is coming over in a little bit to stay with me.” Ainslee managed a smile. “Thank you both for coming over. I really appreciate it.”

  She walked the two of us to the door, and we said goodbye a final time as we stepped outside. Lena and I stood on the front stoop and looked at each other. I cleared my throat, unsure of what to say.

  “What happened to your face?” Lena asked, gesturing to her own cheek.

  “Car accident,” I answered, not wanting to get into the details of the fight.

  A complicated expression flashed across Lena’s face, one that I couldn’t fully read.

  “I’m fine,” I assured her, making a little ‘ta-da’ motion with my hands. “It looks worse than it actually is.” Of course, now that we were talking about it, my face began to ache again, belaying my statement.

  “I’m sorry things didn’t work out last night,” Lena said as we stepped off the stoop and headed for our cars.

  “It was a blow,” I admitted. We stopped by Fletcher’s car, and I bounced the keys within my pocket, unwilling to leave despite all the things I needed to do. “Maybe next week we could meet up for a pint or something? If the case isn’t wrapped up by them, well…” I let the dark thought trail off.

  Lena smiled at me, though there was something tight around its edges, which I hoped was nerves and not her desire to say no. “That sounds nice,” she said. “Well, I should go. Rehearsal and all.” She pointed over her shoulder with her thumb.

  “I’ll text you.”

  She began to walk away, but she stopped after just a few steps and turned back to me, her lips pursed in uncertainty. “Listen, Callum…”

  Her eyes caught on something behind me, and I watched as all emotion dropped from her face. It scared me a little, as I’d never seen someone go so blank so fast. I glanced around, trying to find what had shocked her so, and I spotted a man in a long coat and a tweed cap leaning against a street lamp beside a long, black car.

  “Is that your
ex?” I asked. I hadn’t gotten a good look at the man haggling her in the shadows outside the pub, but I thought I recognized the arch of his nose and the brush of stubble across his jaw.

  Tension rolled off Lena in waves as she nodded, and she stepped back towards me, hiding in my shadow just a little bit. She bit her lip and wrapped her hands around the strap of her satchel. Her ex didn’t move, and it may have been my imagination, but I thought I sensed a smidge of violence wafting off him.

  “Do you want to come with me?” I asked. “I have to meet my mum for lunch, it’s a weekly thing, but you could come with. Or I could drop you somewhere?”

  Lena stared past me at her ex for a long moment, chewing on her lip as she thought it over. “Would that be okay?” she asked.

  “Of course.”

  “It wouldn’t be improper?”

  “Since we’re meeting my mum, I definitely wouldn’t call it a date,” I joked, and she cracked a smile.

  We’d been staring at the man for a full minute, but he had yet to move. He simply leaned against the post and watched us in turn. It made the hairs on the back of my neck prickle. I couldn’t see his eyes from here, especially not beneath his cap, but I imagined them as dark and rather blank.

  “Let’s get out of here,” I said with a shiver and unlocked the car.

  We had to pass Lena’s ex to get back to the main road, and we turned our heads to look at him as we drove by. He had sharp, well-defined cheekbones, and his skin was tanner than any true Scot’s had a right to be. He studied us in turn, though his face was impassive and impossible to read. Lena swallowed, rubbing her palms on her thighs.

  I watched him in the rearview mirror as we continued down the street, and for a long time, he didn’t move, but as I rounded the corner, I caught a glimpse of him climbing into his car.

  “Will he follow us?” I asked. I wasn’t in the mood for another car chase at any speed.

  “I don’t know.” Lena was also watching the mirror, and I could see the tension tightening the corners of her eyes.