Don't Push Me

by Ewan McGregor

  ‘There’s no chance of that. Believe me.’ Kat decided to keep her counsel – if she told her mum about Stephen’s latest antics it would be around the nursing home in ten minutes. She needed to keep the gruesome details to herself.

  ‘You need to put that arsehole out of that heed of yours. He was a wrong’un back then and I’d bet my last pound that he’s still a wrong’un just now.’ Maureen, as usual, was right on the money.

  ‘I will, Mum – thanks.’

  ‘Are you eating? You look like you’re losing weight,’ Maureen said, looking Kat up and down.

  ‘Yes, I’m eating. I’ve been trying to lose a bit of weight though, so thank you.’

  ‘I don’t like it. Get eating again. I canny be having you getting too skinny.’

  ‘Okay, Mum,’ Kat said. ‘Do you need me to get you anything?’

  ‘No, no, I’m braw,’ Maureen said. Kat could see that another one of her mother’s shows was starting.

  ‘I’ll let you know how I get on at work; hopefully I’ll have some good news for a change,’ Kat said before the show started.

  ‘You do that. Now get out of the bloody way of that telly – EastEnders is coming on.’

  41

  Kat had met Stephen when they were teenagers. It had been her first proper relationship and it had scarred her for life. He was loving and kind for the first few years – they’d always had a good laugh at the start. Then Kat had fallen pregnant and everything changed. Stephen’s mask had well and truly slipped.

  The laughs stopped; Stephen was no longer loving and kind. It was like the flick of a switch. He completely changed, and he started treating Kat as if she was something he’d found on the sole of his shoe. It all came to a head one night when Kat, heavily pregnant, had come home early from work. She had been feeling terrible, and her situation wasn’t improved when she walked in on Stephen in an intimate embrace with their teenage neighbour. It turned out he had been ‘intimately embracing’ everything that moved. He tried to wriggle his way out of it with some terrible excuses, but Kat was not one for second chances back then – she had thrown him out. The neighbour had only been about sixteen or seventeen. What was it her mother had said? He always liked them young?

  Kat hadn’t seen Stephen for a few years after that. Then, out of the blue, he had appeared at her door with some tall tale or other, and Kat foolishly had been taken in. He had changed; he was a different person. He was sorry for all of the pain and hurt he had caused. He wanted to get to know his son. ‘Just give me a chance,’ he had pleaded. He had lasted three weeks before his true colours were revealed and he had been shown the door again.

  When Paul was sixteen and a troublesome teenager, Stephen had resurfaced again and Kat ridiculously had succumbed to his charms once more. She had made a huge error of judgement. She couldn’t believe she had been taken for a fool yet again when he’d showed up at her door in need of help and she had taken him in. Paul had been furious. They hadn’t spoken for months because of it, and it had nearly destroyed their relationship irrevocably. Kat’s mother and father weren’t best pleased either, and Kat felt it had played a part in her father’s health deteriorating. Thankfully, it hadn’t taken Stephen long to mess it all up. He had been stealing money from her, and Kat was convinced he’d been playing away again, so she had thrown him out of her life forever this time. Apart from receiving bills in his name, she hadn’t heard from or come across Stephen for several years until this sorry mess had started.

  Stephen was fifty-one years old now and Rachel was only late teens or early twenties – and his stepdaughter. How long had it been going on? It was wrong on so many levels. Stephen was going to pay for this particular indiscretion. In fact, after all the years of hurt and pain, he deserved everything that was coming to him.

  Kat hadn’t got around to getting a new car yet so she was stuck with public transport. She left the nursing home and got on a bus heading for the city centre. She hoped there would be no reason for the police to check the bus’s CCTV images, as there was nothing she could do to avoid them. She exited the bus when it arrived in the bustling city centre and headed to St Enoch subway station. She still had a short yet vital journey to make.

  Kat had wiped Rachel’s phone down several times over the past few days. She had given it one last clean before she left the care home and had slipped it into the little zip bag again. She really should have worn gloves every time she used it, but this would have to do. She had tried to erase any mention of herself, of her cat or anything remotely linked to the bullying. She hoped this would work.

  Kat left the subway at St George’s Cross and made her way to her intended destination… the house Stephen shared with Kirsty, Rachel and her mum.

  42

  Kat had walked past the house three or four times. She was trying to make absolutely sure that this was the right place. She was certain it was. She had found the address via Rachel’s phone and the internet. She had been on street maps via Rachel’s phone to scope it out, and now she stood on the very street watching and waiting. There were some trees across the road from the house and Kat waited patiently underneath them, hoping she wouldn’t look too dodgy if she was seen. The lighting wasn’t great, which helped hide her from view. Thankfully, the rain had abated for now, although there were large, ominous dark clouds in the night sky.

  Kat knew from the brutal messages she had read that some of Rachel and Stephen’s secret trysts had taken place in his garden shed. What a truly romantic bastard he was. He obviously hadn’t changed one bit over the years. Kat had spotted the small wooden construction at the back of the house in the overgrown garden. Stephen never had been a keen gardener.

  Kat fixed her leather gloves on and felt inside her jacket for the phone. There were still lights on in the house, but she couldn’t wait all night – she needed to get out of there before someone noticed her loitering around and confronted her – or worse, phoned the police. She gathered up the required courage and made her move. She walked around to the side of the house and quickly bypassed the door. The garden was just about in darkness. Kat pulled a screwdriver from her jacket and moved to the rickety shed.

  Kat prised open the flimsy lock with the screwdriver – it gave way easily. She was in. The shed smelled of petrol and grass. It wasn’t exactly a place you would want to spend time in. It had an old ragged sofa bed at the far end, in between all sorts of golf clubs and gardening implements that evidently hadn’t been used for years. Kat shuddered at what had gone on in this place.

  She lifted the phone out of the plastic zip bag and turned the device back on.

  She pushed the phone down the side of the tattered and heavily stained couch bed. The battery still had a fair bit of life left. Kat hoped the police could track the phone and locate it in the shed – it would look bad for Stephen and further enhance his credentials as the main suspect when it was found. They could even test the stains on the couch.

  Kat froze. She heard something – someone had appeared from the house. They were talking in hushed tones. For a horrible second, Kat thought she had been seen.

  They were talking on the phone. Kat peered out through the crack in the door. It was Stephen. He was animated as he spoke into his mobile. Kat’s heart was racing. If he walked over to the shed, she was done for. He would notice it was open. She held her breath.

  Stephen walked closer to the shed.

  He was going to find her. Kat looked around the shed for a hiding place. There was nowhere she could go without making all sorts of noise. She picked up a golf club that was lying on the floor, gripped it tightly and watched.

  Stephen paced up and down the garden, still talking into the phone. Kat couldn’t quite make out what he was saying but it seemed to be an important call. She stood completely still, terrified he would open the shed door.

  She gripped the golf club tighter still.

  ‘What you doing out there, Ste?’ someone shouted from the house. It must have been his wife, Rachel�
�s mother.

  Stephen quickly ended his phone call.

  ‘I’m just coming, honey,’ he shouted. He looked shifty, then he turned and looked right at Kat. Or at least that’s what it felt like. He moved closer to the shed. Kat braced herself and gripped the club.

  ‘Stephen!’ the shout came again. More insistent this time. Stephen turned on his heel and made his way back inside.

  Kat breathed a huge sigh of relief.

  That had been far too close for comfort.

  Kat, in a cold sweat, reached into her jacket and came out with a small vial. A small vial which contained some of Rachel’s blood. Kat had the idea when she was cleaning up the bloodstains in the car and found to her surprise that some of it was still wet – she’d thought it might come in useful somehow. It had been another moment of madness, but now she was going to use it to her advantage. She was going to put the final nail in Stephen’s coffin and seal his guilt in the eyes of the police. Kat dropped a few spots of blood onto the couch and on the floor of the shed. She smeared a little on the door. The police would almost certainly be forensically searching the shed soon, and when they found drops of Rachel’s blood it would be curtains for Stephen. Kat couldn’t believe she could be so callous. It was so cold and calculating, and so out of character.

  Kat used up the blood and closed the vial, slipping it back into her jacket pocket. She waited another minute until she was certain the coast was clear and then exited the shed. She tried to press the lock back into place and closed the door. Unless you were looking for it, there didn’t look like any sign of a forced entry.

  Who had Kat become? Breaking and entering whilst framing someone with a vial of a dead girl’s blood? Well, she supposed after murder it was a minor crime.

  Kat had reasoned that sooner or later the police would search the shed and when the phone was found they would read all of the messages between stepfather and daughter. The blood would cement his guilt. Then it was up to the creep to try to worm his way out of it.

  The messages, photos and blood spots were damning evidence. Kat was sure that Stephen would be looked upon as a suspect. He had to be looked at as a suspect.

  Kat’s nerves were shredded after the close encounter with her ex. She silently moved back out of the garden and past the door, praying no one would see her.

  Back out in the street, Kat let out another huge sigh of relief and headed for home.

  Her nerves may have been completely shot but Kat let another smile cross her lips. Another part of her plan had been successfully completed.

  43

  Rachel better not ruin this for me and Dad. She’s being an attention-seeking little cow. She needs to get back right now before someone phones the polis.

  We know the fat bitch has money stashed away – we just need to get our hands on it and then it’s game over. I’ve told Dad we need to make a move now, but he wants to wait, make her suffer some more. He always wants her to suffer more.

  I can’t wait until it’s done and she knows what’s happened. We can get away from this shithole and stop pretending to play happy families with these fucking clowns. My lovely stepmummy Laura will be out of my life forever and I’ll never have to set eyes on her daft daughter ever again either. I know they didn’t even want me moving in with them in the first place.

  It’s not like we don’t deserve it. Me and Dad. Dad told me that the fat bitch didn’t want anything to do with me. She even talked about putting me up for adoption. Adoption! She hasn’t paid one penny to me or Dad through my whole life. Bet she hasn’t even wondered what the hell happened to me. How I turned out. She just left Dad to struggle on and got on with her life. Fat, selfish bitch.

  I can’t wait to see her face when she finds out the truth.

  44

  The alarm on Kat’s bedside table sounded at 7 a.m. but she was already wide awake. Had been for hours. She hadn’t been sleeping well since Rachel died. A few snatched hours here and there had been her lot. Several times now she had closed her eyes and been on the verge of sleep when the image of Rachel covered in flames startled her back awake with a jolt. Once, Kat was sure it was an image of Kirsty in the flames.

  She turned on the radio for the hourly news as she had done throughout the night. There had been nothing so far about the case, but this morning’s bulletin was different and much more interesting.

  ‘Police are becoming increasingly concerned over the disappearance of Glasgow woman Rachel Strang. The nineteen-year-old hasn’t been seen for three days now, and family and friends say this is extremely out of character. Miss Strang’s fiancé Jason Thomson is pleading for her safe return.’

  ‘Rachel, I just want to know you’re okay. Contact me or your mum – we’re going out of our minds here.’

  ‘Anyone who has any information about Miss Strang’s whereabouts is urged to get in contact with Police Scotland. More details and a photo of Rachel can be found on our website…’

  Kat knew it was only a matter of time before Rachel’s disappearance made the news. She had expected it. She was young. She was popular. It was inevitable. It was still a strange experience hearing her name on the news though. Kat was hugely relieved that she had managed to get rid of the phone before the news broke. It pleased her that the phone and blood would now implicate Stephen.

  The news bulletin was a stark reminder that this was all very real. It had happened. Kat sat on her bed and felt a little numb. She hadn’t expected to hear Rachel’s fiancé speak. She had heard his voice on Rachel’s phone when he’d left a voicemail. He would be filled with false hope at the moment. So would her mother. Little did they know it was only a matter of time before a murder enquiry was launched.

  Kat opened her phone and navigated to the radio station’s website, clicked news and looked at what was their top story. The smiling photo of Rachel made her look almost angelic. It was not the person Kat recognised. Even though the news report had said more details were available on their website, there didn’t appear to be a great deal of further information. The photo and physical description, plus a mention of her workplace were the only new details.

  However, Kat couldn’t help feeling pangs of guilt. She was to blame for so much hurt and pain that was to come for Rachel’s family. Although it had been an accident. A terrible bloody accident. If the little witch hadn’t attacked her in the car park then none of this would have happened. When she thought about it – and if she was completely honest with herself – she was only feeling sorry for Rachel’s mother. Then again, it was the mother who had raised such a horrible, spiteful little bitch and had taken in the complete and utter arsehole that was Stephen. Maybe she was partly to blame as well? Kat’s thoughts were muddled – she really needed to get a good night’s sleep.

  Rachel’s mother didn’t know it yet but she was in for some real shocks. She may have felt despair and helplessness just now when she thought her daughter was only missing, but it was nothing to what she would experience in the near future.

  Her daughter had been killed, albeit accidently. Her daughter had been disposed of in a cold and calculated manner, though there was nothing accidental about that. And to top it all off, her husband had been screwing said daughter behind her back for God knows how long. It would be a lot for anyone to take.

  The fiancé Jason wouldn’t be too chuffed either when he found out his soon-to-be-wife had been cheating on him with at least two others behind his back. His temper would be stretched to its limits.

  Maybe she should let Jason know exactly what had been going on. Maybe she should let them all know what Rachel and Stephen had been up to.

  Kat smiled. She should let them all know.

  45

  ‘Do you know how many calories are in those?’ DI Alan Prentice said. He was watching his colleague demolish his second roll and potato scone of the day.

  ‘I’m guessing by the look on your face that it’s a fair number… but do you know what, Al? I couldn’t care less, mate. I’m happy,’ DS D
onaldson said as he licked more tomato sauce from his fingers. He genuinely did look happy with himself.

  Prentice shook his head. He knew there was no talking to Donaldson. He was never going to embrace the healthy lifestyle he himself loved so much.

  Donaldson was clinically obese, but he didn’t seem to mind. Prentice was a fitness fanatic. The pair of them made an unlikely but ultimately winning team. They had worked together for only a few months, but they played to each other’s strengths.

  Prentice and Donaldson had been given the task of tracking down a missing girl. DCI Brannigan was leading the team, but both Prentice and Donaldson knew that meant they would be doing most of the work. Brannigan liked to think he was hands-on, however, more often than not he let his team get on with it, only swooping in when the credit was being dished out.

  Both detectives knew only too well that the first few days in a missing-person enquiry were crucial. They both worked for the Major Investigations Unit and they had taken the case from the local police when it appeared the girl could be in serious danger. This, as you can imagine, didn’t make them too popular with the local detectives who had to hand over the case.

  The MIU wouldn’t normally be called in so early in a missing-person enquiry. However, it had emerged during initial enquires that the missing girl was engaged to the nephew of one of Glasgow’s oldest and most prolific gangsters – a genuinely horrible chap by the name of Archie Thomson. Those above Prentice wanted to make sure there was no link to organised crime in the poor girl’s disappearance. It certainly made the case more intriguing. Many of Police Scotland’s finest had tried to make something stick to Archie Thomson over the years but without success.

  Rachel Strang was the missing girl’s name. Nineteen years old. They had already been to the family home along with a family liaison officer. Nothing had seemed out of the ordinary, apart from the fact she had gone AWOL. The mother had reported her missing and she was frantic, as was to be expected. The father, or stepfather as he’d informed them, had seemed concerned. They said Rachel had never gone missing before, plus they had always kept in contact via phone or social media. It was very much out of character for her. This in itself had drawn Rachel’s mother, Laura, to the conclusion that something untoward had happened to her daughter. Prentice tended to agree. Donaldson was absolutely certain of it.