See Them Run

by See Them Run (epub)

  She shook her head. ‘My boyfriend, Ronnie, he’s staying with our little girl. Taken the day off to look after her. I’ll be fine. They’ve said Nat’s out of danger.’

  Chris offered to fetch her a cup of coffee but she declined. ‘Your guys have been really good. Keeping an eye on Nat while I go for a break.’

  ‘Are you up to answering a few questions, Cindy?’ Clare asked.

  She yawned. ‘Yeah, go for it. Anything that will help.’

  Clare began by asking Cindy about Thursday nights but she was clueless.

  ‘I didn’t even know he went out on Thursdays. He works evenings a lot so I wouldn’t have noticed if he was going out.’

  ‘I think you told my colleague Nat didn’t have a regular girlfriend.’

  She shook her head. ‘Not for a while now. He did have one but she moved away with work. Janey, she was called. She lost her job – end of last year – and I think she hoped Nat would propose but he’s not the settling down kind. So, she found this job in Birmingham and told him she was going.’

  ‘Was he upset?’

  ‘Not really. Plenty more fish in the sea, he said.’

  ‘And was she upset?’

  ‘To start with, yes. But then when she saw he wasn’t bothered I think she realised she’d be better off without him.’

  ‘Are you still in touch with her?’

  ‘Yes, on Facebook. Here, I’ll show you.’ She tapped at her phone then passed it to Clare. ‘See? Janey Flynn.’

  ‘Do you have an address? In Birmingham?’

  ‘No but she went to work for the fire service down there so you should be able to find her through them.’

  Clare noted this down. ‘Can you think of anyone who might have wanted to harm Nat, Cindy?’

  Cindy thought. ‘The pub, you know, they don’t always get on; but this is a bit extreme isn’t it? I honestly can’t see anyone there doing this to him.’

  ‘Who didn’t he get on with?’

  ‘Oh, just the manager. But, honestly, he’s fine. If he’d an issue with Nat he’d just have fired him. It was a casual contract.’

  Chris cleared his throat. ‘Erm, Cindy, we have some photos that we think might be of Nat. They’re taken from the side and behind. But we’re not sure if it is him. Would you feel up to looking at them?’

  Cindy nodded and Clare withdrew a sheaf of photos from a brown envelope. She handed them to Cindy and she leafed through them. At length she raised her eyes.

  ‘I’m pretty sure it’s Nat.’ She picked out one of the photos and held it for them to see. ‘See there? That mole, with the smaller one to the side? That looks familiar. I mean, I wasn’t in the habit of looking at his back without a shirt on but I’m guessing you can check. The nurse might let you turn him over.’

  Chris pushed back his chair and went to the nurse’s station. The duty nurse was on the phone and, when the call was finished, Chris asked if it would be possible to move Mr Dryden slightly to examine his back. The nurse looked doubtful and went to fetch a colleague. The charge nurse who came seemed unwilling.

  ‘It’s a question of privacy,’ she told Chris.

  ‘I appreciate that but Mr Dryden was the victim of an attempted murder and this may help us track down the culprit who, we believe, has killed twice already.’

  ‘Does his sister agree?’

  ‘She does. It was her suggestion.’

  In the face of such an argument, the charge nurse relented. ‘But I’ll have to record it formally,’ she told Chris.

  Clare took out her phone and was ready with the camera when they raised the unconscious Nat onto his left shoulder. And there it was. The larger mole with the smaller one to the side. She took a couple of photos, checked the quality then nodded to the nurse who lowered Nat gently back down.

  ‘Any idea when he might wake up?’ Clare asked the charge nurse.

  ‘The doctor said he’ll review it in the morning. The plan was Friday but it’s possible they might start to reduce sedation tomorrow. Depends how he is overnight but he’s doing well, so far.’

  ‘We need to speak to him as soon as possible,’ Clare said. ‘He may have vital evidence that will help us prevent another murder.’

  The charge nurse said she would let the cop on duty know as soon as there was any change.

  The nurses left and Clare thanked Cindy. ‘You’ve been so helpful.’

  ‘Wait…’

  ‘Yes?’

  ‘Those photos. Where did you get them? I mean, where were they taken? Why is his shirt off?’

  Clare smiled. ‘At the moment, Cindy, I can’t say any more. But we will let you know, once things become clearer.’

  She looked at them, her eyes brimming with tears. She knows, Clare thought, as they walked back down the corridor to the exit. She knows he’s been up to something. And her heart went out to Cindy. To her, to Jennifer Gilmartin and to Vicky Gallagher. Losing a loved one would be the least of their problems when it all came out.

  They were on their way back to St Andrews when Diane phoned. Clare was driving and Chris switched the speaker on.

  ‘Diane?’

  ‘Hi again, Clare. Another bit of information for you. It’s not much but might help fill in some of the blanks.’

  ‘Go on.’

  ‘Nat Dryden’s laptop has been hacked. There’s a keylogger installed.’

  ‘A keylogger?’

  ‘It’s a piece of software that records any keystrokes used when accessing websites; then it sends them back to whoever tricked the user into installing it.’

  ‘Would that include passwords?’

  ‘Oh yes. And it would tell the hacker which websites the passwords related to.’

  ‘So the hacker would be able to use that info to log in as Nat?’

  ‘Precisely.’

  ‘But why? What would the hacker get out of it?’

  ‘Sometimes it’s money,’ Diane said. ‘They impersonate the person they’ve hacked to order stuff, or even access their bank account. But in this case, I’d say the hacker was after information.’

  ‘Such as?’

  ‘Okay – I’m not the detective, Clare. That’s down to you. But, having looked at the laptops from Mr Robb and Mr Gilmartin, they were much more careful about their security. Mr Dryden, on the other hand, is the weak link. He didn’t even have up-to-date security software installed. It was nearly two years out-of-date. So if the hacker was trawling the web for guys involved in porn and the like, Nat Dryden would be easy to find. Send him an email with some porno photos taken from the internet.’

  ‘And the email has this keylogger attached?’ Clare was starting to see what Diane meant.

  ‘You’ve got it. Once the keylogger was on Nat’s laptop, the hacker could see his usernames and passwords and, crucially, all his email contacts, Facebook friends and so on.’

  Clare was turning this over in her mind as she drove. ‘But, if the other two – Andy Robb and Bruce Gilmartin – if their security software was better than Nat’s, how could the keylogger get past that?’

  ‘It depends on how sophisticated the keylogger is. A clever hacker can find ways. And I think you’re dealing with a very clever hacker here. It only takes one innocent-looking email and the damage is done.

  ‘So, our hacker – whoever he or she is – found Nat through his online browsing, sent him an email with the keylogger and was able to find the Playroom by stealing Nat’s username and password?’

  ‘You’ve got it.’

  ‘And would that let the hacker find the other Playroom users?’

  ‘Probably. Now, I’m guessing the other Playroom members use untraceable email addresses – if they’re breaking the law, they’d be daft not to. But all our hacker needs is one weak link, one scrap of identifying information, and he’s in. He could have been monitoring the Playroom for weeks, months even. A bit of patience on the hacker’s part and one slip up by the others.’

  ‘I don’t suppose you can identify the hacker?’ />
  ‘I wish. One day maybe but not at the moment.’

  ‘Did you manage to log into Dryden’s Playroom account?’

  ‘I did. It looks like he downloaded the photos from the Playroom, but that’s it. The members aren’t identified by name, only by a number.’

  ‘Let me guess,’ Clare said, ‘one to five?’

  ‘You’ve got it.’

  ‘Nothing about the location of the Playroom? God, what a name…’

  ‘I know,’ Diane said. ‘But no, sorry, nothing like that. The only other thing is a list of dates – all Thursdays. But I’m guessing that’s not a surprise.’

  ‘It just confirms what we suspected,’ Clare said. ‘Listen, Diane, thanks so much for all this. I really appreciate it.’

  ‘Just let me know if you need anything else. We’ll keep trying the other laptops from Andy Robb but I’m not expecting to find much more now.’

  Clare drove on, lost in thought. She knew now why the victims were being targeted and that another two men were in danger. But she hadn’t a clue how to set about finding them. They had two sets of fingerprints, neither of them on the system, a woman’s shoe print and a Land Rover no one could find. Was that it? Were they just going to have to wait until their murderer struck again? Was he or she planning another hit tonight? She felt sick at the thought of it. She really needed a break.

  Chapter 18

  DCI Gibson put out a further press statement just after six, asking the public to look out for a dark green Land Rover Defender, particularly one with damage at the front. He had also drafted in extra uniforms to patrol the town overnight. Visits had been paid to known sex-offenders living in the area and police were stationed near their homes. None of the garages visited had seen a damaged Land Rover and the Fire Service in Birmingham were able to confirm that Janey Flynn had been at work for the past few days, effectively ruling her out.

  Clare and Chris had arrived back and confirmed Nat Dryden as one of the men in the photos.

  ‘I’m pretty sure the man with the scar on his shoulder will turn out to be Andy Robb,’ Clare told the DCI. ‘Maybe a couple of the Edinburgh lads could go over to Angela’s to have it confirmed?’

  The DCI nodded. ‘Anything else?’

  ‘I’d like to have another look through the photos Diane’s uploaded but, apart from that, I’m not sure what else we can do tonight,’ Clare said.

  ‘What about that accordion player?’

  ‘Fergus Bain? Chris and I both think there’s something funny about him. But I can’t work out what it is. Chris is checking up on the insurance value of his stolen Land Rover right now… if he ever gets through to them. It could be that it developed a fault too expensive to fix and he’s after the insurance money. I’m just not sure.’

  ‘Where was he last night?’

  ‘Playing the accordion at a rugby club ceilidh in Kirkcaldy. The club secretary confirms he was there up to midnight and the band leader says he dropped him home just after one in the morning.’

  ‘Want a watch put on his house?’

  Clare ran a hand through her hair. ‘I’m not sure we can spare the manpower, sir, to be honest. We’ve nothing to go on, really. Just a feeling.’

  ‘I’d rather spend a few quid on it than end up with another corpse.’

  ‘Fair enough,’ she agreed. ‘But it’s not going to be easy. It’s light until quite late just now.’

  ‘You work it out and I’ll provide the bodies.’

  ‘Okay. Thank you, sir.’

  Chris came off the phone. ‘He wasn’t miles out. Insurance company said he put a low value on the car, probably to keep the premiums down. Plus it had a few bumps and scrapes. They reckon they’ll pay out around £1000. Certainly no more than that.’

  ‘It’s a tidy sum, depending on your lifestyle, but not enough to replace it, I’d have thought.’

  ‘Not with another Land Rover. He’d have been far better off selling it privately. They reckon he’d get ten times the insurance value for it.’

  ‘So maybe it’s been stolen after all?’

  ‘Yeah, maybe.’

  ‘Fancy another run out to Strathkinness?’

  ‘If you like.’

  ‘We need to scope out a possible observation point. The DCI’s authorised a watch on Bain’s house tonight.’

  ‘Seems a bit extravagant, given there’s the whole of St Andrews to keep an eye on. And he does have an alibi for last night, remember.’

  ‘Listen, if he’s putting up the money, I’m not arguing. And there’s something not quite right with our Mr Bain.’

  In the car park, Clare said, ‘We’ll take my car. I don’t want him seeing the car we were in this afternoon again.’

  They drove out along the Strathkinness road, slowing down as much as Clare dared as they passed Fergus Bain’s cottage. ‘Keep your eyes peeled for likely observation points,’ she said. Once they had passed the cottage and rounded a bend, out of sight, Clare pulled into the side of the road. ‘Anything?’

  ‘Yeah, I think so. Just beyond the cottage, on the other side of the road, there’s a stretch of overgrown beech hedge more or less opposite him. I reckon if you went in a bit further along the road you could work your way back without being seen and have a pretty good view of his cottage.’

  Clare pulled away again. ‘I’ll head back by the other road. If he’s watching for any police activity he’ll notice the same car going past. I think we should all go home for a couple of hours, then meet back at the station at about eight. Would you mind bringing a cop out here first, though, so we can keep an eye on Fergus before it gets dark? Oh, and tell him to keep his eyes peeled for Land Rovers too. Especially if they’re heading for St Andrews.’

  DCI Gibson agreed their plan and Chris drove one of the uniformed officers back along the road to keep an eye on Fergus Bain’s cottage. Connor and Phil had taken photographs round to Angela Robb’s but hadn’t yet returned. Clare decided not to wait for them and sent a quick text to Tom to let him know she was on her way back. He replied with a smiley face.

  The steaks were resting while Tom, now more comfortably dressed in stone-coloured chinos and a grey Henley, swilled Chianti and balsamic vinegar round the pan.

  ‘That’s a wonderful smell to come home to,’ Clare said as she slipped off her jacket.

  ‘Let me pour you a glass,’ Tom said.

  ‘Sorry, Tom, I have to go back tonight.’

  ‘Half a glass?’

  ‘Not even that.’

  ‘Quarter? It’s a good one.’ He held up a bottle of Malbec.

  ‘Oh, go on then. But no more than that. I have to drive later.’

  He poured a small glass for her and turned back to his red wine reduction. ‘Ciabatta’s warming in the oven. Salad on the table. It’s a lovely evening. Want to eat in the garden?’

  Clare looked out of the window. Tom had unearthed a plastic table and chairs from the shed and put them where they would catch the evening sun. The grass had been cut and the edges neatly trimmed. It looked as if he’d weeded the borders too. It was a tempting sight. ‘Why not?’

  The meal was delicious, as she knew it would be, the steaks cooked to perfection. Clare wiped her plate clean with a strip of warm ciabatta, savouring the last of the sauce. She tried to put the investigation to the back of her mind, for a few hours at least. She kicked off her shoes and flexed her feet, wriggling her toes. Tom took his cue and lifted one foot to his knee. He began to massage it and Clare leaned back and closed her eyes. Blackbirds were chirping their dusk song and, every now and then, she caught a whiff of Tom’s Douro cologne. For a few minutes, she was entirely content. ‘Thanks for doing this, Tom. It’s crazy at work just now. This is lovely to come home to.’

  He beamed. ‘I enjoy it. You deserve to be spoiled.’ He stopped massaging and held her foot for a moment. ‘But I do think we should talk.’

  ‘Tom – I don’t really see the point. Until I hear from the Lord Advocate’s office I won’t know if
I have anything to worry about.’

  ‘But it must be on your mind.’

  ‘Of course it is. But work is so busy. It leaves me very little time to dwell on things.’

  ‘At least get in touch with Gavin Maitland. He’s the best defence advocate I know.’

  ‘I will, if it comes to it. Otherwise I’d rather not discuss it if you don’t mind.’

  He sighed. ‘Okay, I know when I’m licked. But can we at least talk about us?’

  ‘Actually, yes. There’s something I wanted to tell you.’

  He waited.

  ‘I’m thinking of buying a house. Here, I mean. In St Andrews.’

  ‘Oh.’

  ‘You did know I’d sold the flat in Glasgow?’

  ‘Finally?’

  ‘Yep. Had the confirmation the other day.’

  Tom was silent for a minute. ‘But I thought you might…’

  ‘Might what?’

  ‘Well, I thought you might come back to Glasgow and buy something else there. I mean, once you’d had enough of St Andrews.’

  ‘That’s not going to happen. I like it here.’

  ‘Seriously? Is this really you, Clare? All that golf – and tourists? Is this really where you see your future? You’re a Glasgow girl. You know you are.’

  Clare shrugged. ‘Doesn’t mean I can’t live somewhere else. And I needed to get out of Glasgow. I needed a complete change.’

  ‘Okay. I see that. But what if the Lord Advocate throws out the Ritchie family’s application? Hopefully he will. Then there would be no reason to stay away. You could come back, find another flat – a house, even. Your friends are all there, family too. And it’s always been your home.’

  ‘And now I would like to make my home here. St Andrews is lovely – murderous drivers excepted. The people are great, it’s close to the sea and it rains a lot less than in Glasgow!’

  There was a pause. Then Tom said, ‘And what about me? Do I fit into your plans at all?’

  Clare traced her finger round the rim of her glass. ‘Let’s see what happens, eh? I can’t think too far ahead just now.’ She rose. ‘Listen, I’ll wash up, then I must get back.’

  In the end they washed up together, studiously avoiding any further talk of their future, together or otherwise. Clare told Tom about the murders, about the photos of the victims, and her suspicion that Fergus Bain was somehow involved. Tom listened, then told her about the defamation case he was defending. The kitchen was soon tidy and Clare glanced at the clock.