Don't Push Me

by Ewan McGregor

  ‘No,’ Kirsty said.

  ‘Is that all you’ve got to say?’ Prentice asked. ‘Your father has been having an affair with your stepsister, who is missing – who could be dead for all you know – and all you can say is “No”?’

  ‘I’ve got nothing to do with any of this,’ Kirsty said, folding her arms in some sort of attempt at looking confident. It didn’t work.

  ‘You know your dad’s in this up to his neck though?’ Donaldson asked.

  ‘I don’t believe that either. There’s no way Dad would risk—’ Kirsty stopped herself from speaking.

  ‘Risk what?’ Prentice said.

  ‘Nothing. It’s nothing.’

  ‘What wouldn’t your dad risk, Kirsty?’ Prentice asked again.

  ‘I don’t know what you’re talking about.’

  ‘What do you think about your dad sleeping with Rachel?’ Donaldson said, trying a different line of attack.

  ‘No chance,’ Kirsty replied.

  ‘No chance? So everyone’s lying?’ Donaldson didn’t like this girl one bit. Her attitude was stinking.

  ‘Ask them,’ Kirsty said, looking at the floor.

  ‘Listen to me,’ Prentice said. He too was getting annoyed by this girl’s reluctance to help them. ‘Your stepsister is missing. Could be dead or in grave danger, and you’re sitting there pissing us about. If you know anything then you need to let us know, and you need to let us know now.’

  ‘I don’t know anything. I don’t. Honestly,’ Kirsty said, unable to meet either detective’s eye. Prentice and Donaldson looked far from convinced.

  ‘How did you feel when you and your dad moved in with Rachel and her mother?’ Prentice asked, trying yet another different approach.

  ‘What’s that got to do with anything?’ Kirsty said.

  ‘I take it you weren’t best pleased then?’ Prentice said.

  ‘No, not at first, but after a while it was alright,’ Kirsty said. ‘We got along quite well, me and Rachel.’

  ‘So there’s no reason whatsoever that you would like to see her come to harm?’ Donaldson said.

  ‘No. None.’

  ‘Is there anywhere you can think of that Rachel might have gone?’ Prentice asked.

  ‘No.’ Kirsty shook her head. She was annoying both detectives with how obstructive she was being. If she got along well with Rachel as she claimed, she would be more concerned than this.

  ‘Is there anyone who would like to see Rachel come to harm? Anyone with a grudge against her?’ Donaldson said.

  ‘Not that I can think of,’ Kirsty said, crossing her arms again. It was infuriating.

  ‘Listen here.’ Donaldson was on the verge of really losing his temper. He couldn’t believe the young girl’s attitude. ‘Your stepsister is in serious danger – that is if she’s not come to grief already. Now, you need to have a good look at yourself and start helping. Not telling us anything ain’t going to do you any favours, and it’s certainly not going to help Rachel. Tell us what you know or I’m going to—’

  ‘What my colleague is saying is that it might not be too late to help Rachel,’ Prentice interrupted. ‘Tell us anything that can help us bring her home safely.’

  ‘I don’t know how many different ways I can tell you both. I don’t know anything,’ Kirsty said.

  If Kirsty had anything whatsoever to do with the disappearance of Rachel then both Prentice and Donaldson would enjoy making sure she faced serious charges.

  59

  Stephen Armstrong was the last of those detained at the park to be interviewed. He had to be patched up first by a doctor. Remarkably his nose wasn’t broken. He’d have bad bruising around his nose and eyes, but apart from that the doctor was happy for him to be questioned.

  The formalities out of the way, the interview began.

  ‘Stephen, do you know where Rachel Strang is?’ Prentice asked. Stephen looked as nervous a man as both detectives had ever witnessed. He was fidgeting. He was sweating profusely.

  ‘No,’ he replied, looking pleadingly at his lawyer as if the duty solicitor could magically make all of this go away.

  ‘If you’re not involved in this, and I can’t see that for one second, then you know who is,’ Prentice said. ‘Where is Rachel?’

  ‘I don’t know,’ Stephen said. ‘Honestly, I’ve got no idea where she is.’ Honesty and Stephen Armstrong didn’t make good bedfellows.

  ‘You’ve been having an inappropriate relationship with her, haven’t you?’ Prentice said.

  ‘What? That’s nonsense.’

  ‘Nonsense?’ Donaldson said. ‘So why did the big fella smash you in the face then?’

  ‘It’s… it’s a misunderstanding. That’s all.’ Stephen was far from convincing.

  ‘Aye, that’s all it is,’ Donaldson said, voice rising. ‘A wee misunderstanding. Nothing to see here. Move along. What a load of utter bollocks! Do us, and yourself, a favour and cooperate with us. Don’t sit there and spin us a pack of lies. There’s a good chance the poor girl is in danger. Now tell us what you know.’

  Stephen’s lawyer remained impassive even with his client’s pleading looks. Stephen was going to have to make up his own mind whether to tell the truth or not.

  ‘Okay, Rachel liked me a little too much and she tried to—’

  ‘Is that what you’re going to come away with?’ Donaldson interrupted. ‘Is that what you expect us to believe? Rachel fancied you, you told her, “No chance, I’m in a loving relationship with your maw,” and she’s run off? Is that the nonsense you’re going to spout?’ Donaldson was convinced of Stephen’s guilt already.

  Stephen looked terrified. ‘Eh… no, it’s just… I don’t know what you want me to say.’

  ‘Stephen, we want the truth. That’s all,’ Prentice said.

  Stephen sat in silence and nervously rubbed at his chin, wondering what he should say or how he could wheedle his way out of this. He came up short.

  ‘Right, let’s try something else,’ Prentice said. ‘We’ve spoken to you a few times now, Stephen, about your stepdaughter’s disappearance. What do you think’s happened to her?’

  ‘I don’t know. Honestly. I’ve no idea,’ Stephen said. He sounded like his daughter. Neither he or Kirsty were coming across well. It was like the two of them didn’t want to help find Rachel.

  The detectives weren’t going to get much more out of him. Without any concrete evidence, he was just going to stick to his lies. Prentice and Donaldson knew they needed more. Prentice reluctantly brought the interview to a close; Donaldson stormed out of the room before he punched a wall – or worse, the suspect. However, within less than a minute he was back outside the door, a smile wide on his face.

  ‘Shannon from forensics has just told me,’ Donaldson said. He couldn’t help grinning. Prentice waited eagerly for him to continue. ‘They’ve found spots of blood in the shed and on the couch in the shed. Plus, they’ve found her phone. It’s him. We’ve got him.’

  60

  I can’t believe it looks like Rachel set me up. I know we were only stepsisters but it felt like real sisters to me.

  Who am I kidding?

  I’ll sort her out when she comes back. She can sulk all she wants, but there was no need to get the police involved. She’s overstepped the mark. She’s probably afraid to come back now because she knows she’s gone too far, grassing us up to the pigs.

  The police interview was terrible. I wasn’t ready for it, wasn’t prepared for the questions. The two guys interviewing me were complete arseholes. I should have been more prepared. It’s not like me. I thought about doing the whole ‘no comment’ thing that you see on the telly, but that would have made me look guilty so I tried to bluff my way through the whole thing. I kept tripping myself up. Nearly blurted out things I shouldn’t.

  Rachel better not come back after all this shit and act as if nothing’s changed. She’s putting me through all of this as a punishment – I know her and her silly moods. Well, she’s out of the loop
now – there’s no way we can keep her involved after she’s pulled this shit. No way. She’s not going to get a penny now. It’s her own fault. She can’t be trusted.

  The coppers still let me go. They had no reason to keep me and the two pigs were raging.

  They kept asking me about my dad and Rachel. They spent ages trying to catch me out about it. They tried to say they were having an affair. Just like Laura had said. Just like they all had said. As if my dad would be so stupid. He wouldn’t be so stupid. He better not have been so stupid.

  The plan is well and truly screwed. There’s no way we can get our hands on the money with this shit going on. It’s not over – just on hold for the moment. Just until all this blows over.

  61

  Kat had been scouring the internet looking for any updates on the case for days now. She was refreshing various websites which dealt with the latest Glasgow news every two minutes or so. Rachel’s details were on the Police Scotland website in the missing-person section. She also had the radio constantly on the local station, and she had the television locked on the news channel. She knew it was only a matter of time before something was announced. Things had gone annoyingly quiet since the melee in the park. All the news said was that Rachel was still missing. It had been an infuriating couple of days constantly refreshing the screen and she’d had precious little sleep over the weekend. This morning there was some news though. Kat listened intently to the hourly news report on the radio.

  ‘Police have today arrested a 51-year-old man in connection with the disappearance of Glasgow woman Rachel Strang. Miss Strang has been missing for ten days now and police have confirmed today that they believe she has come to grievous harm and they are now treating the case as a murder enquiry. More on this breaking news when we get it…’

  There it was. What Kat had been waiting for. She knew exactly who the 51-year-old man in question was. Her ex-husband Stephen. They must have found the phone! They must have seen the blood. Kat felt a tingle of excitement ripple through her. This was all her doing. She had set this in motion. It felt good knowing that Stephen would be getting his comeuppance – it was the least he deserved. The police had worked quickly. They knew that Rachel was dead and it was now a murder enquiry, though Kat had thought this would happen further down the line.

  Stephen or ‘Ste’ had sent his daughter and stepdaughter into Kat’s work and made her life a living hell, but it wasn’t working out well for him now.

  If the police were focusing their efforts on building a case on Stephen, or even looking at Jason, Tony or Kirsty for that matter, then they wouldn’t be likely to come looking for Kat. In any case, why would they even class Kat as a suspect? The one thing she couldn’t let herself become was complacent though. There was always a thought niggling away at her that she had missed something crucial. Something she had forgotten to wipe off the phone or some DNA evidence left behind. Some glaring error that would ruin everything and send her down for a long time.

  Kat paced up and down the room. She knew the police would be going through the phone. They would be questioning Stephen about his affair with his stepdaughter. He would try to wriggle out of it, like he had done most of his life, but there was no way he could deny it had been going on. The amount of messages, along with the disgusting content was proof enough. The police could also look into it in more detail. They would be analysing phone calls between the two. It also looked terrible for Stephen that the phone had been found down the side of the couch in the small dingy shed in his garden. Hopefully the spots of blood had been found as well. Kat was sure they would be.

  The case against him would be building quite nicely.

  62

  The call had come through early in the morning from a frantic member of the public. They’d stumbled upon a body whilst walking their dog in some woods. Immediately the Rachel Strang enquiry had been summoned.

  Prentice and Donaldson had encountered numerous dead bodies in their time. Far too many. They’d seen horrible stuff. Donaldson had once seen a body that had lain in a flat up the Gallowgate for three months. It had stayed with him. The stench and the flies were something he would never forget. It had even made him miss lunch that day. Seeing Rachel Strang in that state would be up there though. It wasn’t nice. Whoever had left her there had done a right number on her. She’d been burned and left to the elements, and it would take dental records to confirm with 100 per cent certainty that it was her, but unofficially the detectives had been told that the search was over and the murder enquiry could begin in earnest.

  ‘They should hang that bastard for this,’ Donaldson said.

  ‘If it’s him, then he’ll never see the light of day again,’ Prentice replied.

  ‘Would you stop that? It’s him. Everyone else can see it – why can’t you?’

  Prentice knew this was an argument he wasn’t going to win. Seeing the girl’s body like that meant they needed a result. Everyone did. There was no way whoever did this was going to get away with it. Nobody should be treated like that.

  ‘Watch out, Al – that’s the gaffer’s here,’ Donaldson said, indicating the arrival of their superior.

  DCI Brannigan would be in front of the cameras imminently. This was his moment in the sun. He loved seeing himself on the telly, even if he usually made an arse of himself. There were rumours that he had DVDs of every television appearance he had ever made. Brannigan bundled his way out of a chauffeur-driven car and waded through the mud. He looked furious at the state of his shoes.

  ‘Right, Alan. What have we found? Is it the young Strain girl?’ Brannigan said.

  ‘Strang her name is,’ Prentice said. The least his boss could do was get her name right. ‘But yes, sir, forensics tells us it looks like it’s her. She’s in a terrible state.’

  ‘Well, let’s get on with it and tell the press. Gather them round and we’ll get the show on the road.’ Brannigan was all heart – about as subtle as a brick to the face. He wanted in and out as quickly as possible; his statement to the press wouldn’t exactly be heartfelt.

  ‘Maybe best if we don’t do it here, eh?’ Prentice said. It was tactless to say the least to get in front of the cameras here. Plus, it was still an active crime scene.

  Brannigan looked sternly at his inspector and reluctantly agreed.

  63

  Stephen Armstrong looked terrible. He looked even worse than the last time he had been interviewed. He now had two large purple-and-black bruises just under his eyes after the punch from Jason, days’ worth of stubble and he looked like he hadn’t slept a wink or had a meal since he’d been arrested. He was slumped forward in his chair with his head in his hands.

  The formalities over once more, the interview commenced.

  ‘Stephen. Why did you kill Rachel Strang?’ Prentice started. There was no point beating about the bush.

  ‘I didn’t do this. I really didn’t. You honestly have to believe me,’ Stephen said.

  ‘Why should we believe a single word that comes out of that lying mouth of yours?’ Donaldson said.

  ‘I never killed Rachel. I never killed her—’

  ‘You were sleeping with her though – we’ve already established that. Although you denied that as well, didn’t you? So why should we believe you now?’ Donaldson asked. He was utterly convinced of Stephen’s guilt. Stephen hadn’t done himself any favours with his constant lies.

  Stephen dragged his fingers through his greasy hair then spoke quietly. ‘I didn’t kill her.’

  ‘Let’s have a look at the evidence,’ Donaldson began. ‘Having an affair with your stepdaughter? Check. Incriminating phone calls, messages and photos? Check. DNA everywhere? Check. Rachel’s phone found in your shed? Check. Rachel’s blood found in your shed and on the couch? Check. You’ve got motive, means and opportunity.’

  Donaldson was enjoying the interview. Stephen squirmed in his chair but didn’t utter another word. He looked beaten. Defeated. He held his head in his hands and rocked slowly back
and forth. Tears were not far away.

  ‘What do you have to say for yourself, Stephen?’ Prentice said.

  ‘I never killed her,’ Stephen said quietly.

  ‘How did her blood end up in your shed?’ Donaldson asked.

  ‘I don’t… I don’t know. I never killed her,’ Stephen said almost inaudibly.

  ‘We’ve got Rachel’s phone. It makes interesting reading,’ Prentice told him. Stephen looked like he wanted the ground to open up and swallow him. ‘There are a bundle of messages from you. There’s loads of calls. There’s photos. And there’s this – an interesting little note written by Rachel herself. Let me read it for you:

  ‘“It’s getting too real now. Ste shouldn’t be doing what he’s doing with me. I’m scared to stop though – he’s already threatened me and I think the next time he might go too far. I know his temper is real bad. I don’t want to be on the end of it again. I’ll need to try and get away. It’s the only option. Ste will kill me otherwise. Kirsty as well. The two of them are a horrible pair. I wish they’d never come into my life.”’

  ‘What do you say to that, Ste?’

  Stephen looked shocked. He grasped some of his greasy dank hair and pulled it as he continually rocked back and forth.

  ‘I… never… killed her.’

  ‘Okay, you say you never killed Rachel. Then who did?’ Prentice asked.

  ‘This is all wrong.’ Stephen shook his head back and forth.

  ‘Can you tell us why Rachel’s blood is in your shed?’ Donaldson asked.

  ‘No. I can’t believe this. It’s all wrong,’ Stephen said.

  ‘Yes, Stephen, it is all wrong,’ Prentice said. ‘You’ve been having an affair with your stepdaughter, who has now been found murdered. And now we find spots of her blood in your shed, along with her phone. Plus, I’m sure once forensics are done there will be traces of you left on her body. You’re going to have to do well to explain this away.’