by Helen Fields
Callanach read Lance’s text then put in a call to a team of officers visiting a house near Aberdeen.
‘This is DI Luc Callanach. I’m the officer in charge of Alexina O’Rourke’s abduction. Are you with her mother now?’
‘Yes, sir,’ the attending officer said. ‘But we’ve only just broken the news to her and she’s very distressed. Can we give you a call back in, say, quarter of an hour when we’ve given her a cup of tea and let it sink in a bit?’
‘If a vehicle is travelling at an average of sixty miles an hour, how far does it get in fifteen minutes?’ Callanach asked her.
‘Um, I’m not sure what the relevance—’ the officer stuttered.
‘Another fifteen miles. That’s how much further away a psychotic murderer will be with Alexina O’Rourke in the boot while I wait for it to sink in a bit. And it’s fifteen miles further for us to rescue her, even assuming we figure out where she is. So shall we wait?’
‘Handing you over right now,’ the officer said, introducing Callanach in muffled terms. There was a pause then a new voice came onto the line.
‘Sorry to have to ask you questions at such a difficult time but we’re trying to get a fuller picture of your daughter’s routines and life. We understand that you were due to have lunch with her today,’ Callanach said.
‘That’s correct. She called me to cancel some days ago. An urgent case came in I think,’ her mother said.
‘And who suggested lunch in the first place?’ Callanach asked.
‘I’m not sure. Does this matter? I can’t see how it helps to find Alexina,’ her mother said, her voice hitching at the end of the sentence, a ruffling noise at the receiver, almost certainly a handkerchief, Callanach thought.
‘I need to know if it was her making plans then changing them, or if it was beyond her control. Was there a restaurant booking?’
‘We always go to a tapas bar opposite her work building. You don’t need to book. It’s very informal. Do you have any idea at all why this has happened to her? Alex really is the nicest person. She’s always been popular. She’s a hard worker, dedicated to her clients …’ The voice faded into sobs and Callanach could hear the officer whispering consoling words in the background.
‘One last question. I know this is difficult. Had there been any marked changes in Alexina’s life recently? Please forgive me for asking, but did you perhaps suspect her of having an affair? Had she become withdrawn? Was there anything you thought she was hiding from you?’
‘No, not at all. She was devastated by her father’s death, naturally, but she’d even put a positive spin on that. All the money she’s inherited is going to be invested in a charity. Alex was spending every spare hour setting it all up. And it’s not in her nature to even contemplate having an affair. She prided herself on her loyalty and honesty.’
‘All right. Thank you. We’ll do everything we can to find your daughter as quickly as possible. In the meantime the officers will remain with you. If you think of anything else that might help, have them call me,’ Callanach said.
‘So Alexina’s husband works full-time, wouldn’t have been around during the day today,’ Ben said. ‘There’s some press coverage of their wedding. Looks as if it was a big event. She’s pretty. Could it be an attempt to hide an abduction? A stalker-type thing, maybe, or an ex-boyfriend?’
‘Possible,’ Lance said. ‘But wouldn’t she have been aware of someone following her, contacting her, especially if it was a persistent ex?’ His phone buzzed. ‘That’s Callanach,’ he said. ‘Apparently Mrs O’Rourke inherited some money that she was putting into a charity. He wants us to see what we can find.’
Two minutes passed before Ben spoke again. He had been typing ever faster and was holding his breath. ‘She inherited close to eleven million,’ Ben whistled. ‘The money came from some shrewd property investments her father made a couple of decades back. It’s all pointing back towards Wesley O’Rourke. They don’t have children. No one else stands to profit from her death.’
‘Actually that doesn’t explain it,’ Lance interrupted. ‘The husband could just divorce her to get his share of the cash. Their marriage might not have been long enough for him to get the full fifty per cent, but he’d still be extremely wealthy. No need for anything as dramatic as murder.’
‘Alexina O’Rourke was in the process of setting up a charity to fight female genital mutilation. It was in the preliminary stages, but there are emails to and from other concerned parties. Maybe a divorce was going to take too long,’ Ben said.
‘As long as he issued divorce proceedings before the money went into the charity, Wesley O’Rourke would have been entitled to his share. The law is on his side. He could have issued proceedings today and she wouldn’t have been able to move a penny of that money to the charity. It’s another dead end,’ Lance said. ‘I’ll update Luc. Go back to the darknet site. It looks as if we’ll have to track Alexina O’Rourke that way.’
Lance left the room, dialling Callanach. Polly moved onto his chair and closer to Ben. ‘What was all that about?’ Polly asked.
‘Just doing my bit for society,’ Ben said, leaning across and planting a kiss on Polly’s lips. ‘I need to let this software run a while – see if we can’t get any more information about Sem Culpa. Ten more minutes and I’m all yours,’ he said.
Lance wandered back in, dragging the crate Polly had been sitting on to the edge of the desk near the door. ‘I got hold of Luc,’ he said. ‘I told him what little we know. I think he feels as if he’s just chasing his tail.’ He looked at Ben and Polly, their hands linked under the desk. ‘I guess you two have plans for the evening. Will you be able to do a bit more work on finding Alexina?’ he asked.
‘I’ll leave the programme working. There’s not much more I can do at the moment anyway. Sorry to chase you out Lance, but Polly and I …’ A mobile phone rang in the lounge. ‘I’d better get that,’ Ben said. ‘Give me a minute.’
‘Shouldn’t you …’ Lance said as Ben dashed through the door.
‘So how did you meet Ben?’ Polly asked, sitting in Ben’s seat and putting her feet up on the desk. In the lounge, Lance heard Ben’s voice drop from normal volume to a whisper. ‘Only you two don’t seem a natural choice for playmates.’ She began running her hand over the keyboard.
‘I don’t think you should do that,’ Lance said, standing up and peering out into the hallway.
‘God, this bottle is already empty. You couldn’t be a love and fetch some beer from the fridge, could you?’ Polly asked.
‘I don’t think I should leave the computer. Something might come in,’ Lance said.
‘I’ll watch it. You’ll only be a second. Only I’ve been on my feet in the cafe all day.’
Ben yelled something garbled from the lounge. There was an explosion of shouting and the thud of a massive weight crashing against wood.
‘Ben, what’s going on?’ Lance shouted.
‘I said, lock the study door and don’t let …’ Ben screamed as the front door shattered.
Lance jumped backwards into the study, hitting Polly who was already trying to close the door with him in the way. He threw himself to one side, kicking the door shut then reaching up to turn the internal deadbolt, collapsing against the reinforced wood, his chest ready to explode.
Chapter Fifty-Eight
Callanach pulled up outside the O’Rourkes’ house, wondering how Ava was doing and if she might have any better ideas than him. The sparse information from Lance about Alexina O’Rourke took the investigation no further forward. All he could do was check if scenes of crime had found anything useful at the scene and reassure Wesley O’Rourke that they were doing everything possible to find his wife.
A constable opened the O’Rourkes’ front door just as Callanach was about to go round to the back.
‘Where’s Mr O’Rourke?’ Callanach asked.
‘In his study, sir,’ the constable said.
Callanach knocked and tried Wesley’s
study door, finding that the handle wouldn’t budge. ‘Mr O’Rourke,’ Callanach called. ‘Could you open the door please?’
There was a shuffling inside, the click of a laptop being shut, then footsteps in the direction of the door.
‘DI Callanach,’ Wesley said as he opened the door. ‘Have you found Lexy?’
‘Not yet, I’m afraid. We’re conducting enquiries with local residents, checking CCTV for all routes to try to pick up the car based on its description and the timing, and I have people following Sem Culpa’s online trail in an attempt to figure out where she may be going,’ Callanach said.
‘What about the media? Couldn’t you use them to maybe, I don’t know, have people call in whenever they see a four-by-four with a woman driving, or parked somewhere unexpected. Just something, just … you need to be doing something more,’ he said, falling back into the chair at his desk.
‘I know. What I want to do now is recreate today to make sure I haven’t missed anything. Do you mind if I look at the CCTV footage again please? It might be that there’s something on there. I only had a brief look this morning.’
‘That won’t help. We know it was turned off well in advance of Lexy being taken. Is that really the best you can do? Do you have no idea at all of what that monstrous bitch intends to do with her?’
‘It might be that the CCTV footage shows someone passing by earlier, the four-by-four passing the end of the driveway, anything at all that might help,’ Callanach said. ‘In any event, we’ll need a copy for evidence.’
‘Your officers have been through it several times already. They’ve all agreed that there’s nothing on there that makes it valuable. I’d appreciate it if you’d stop wasting time. What about Lexy’s mobile? Have you checked her text messages? Surely there’s still a chance that this is someone she knows. Maybe a client who became obsessed. She’s represented enough psychopaths to fill a whole prison. Isn’t that worth a look?’
‘It is,’ Callanach said. ‘Absolutely. That’s another reason I’d like to start with the CCTV footage. Whoever did this came to your house, watched, and made sure you had gone to work. There’s every chance they were already here when you left, especially if they were expecting your wife to go to work too. Could you let me see the footage please?’
Wesley rolled his eyes and flexed his jaw. Callanach could understand the frustration. Paying attention to the tiny details always seemed like time-wasting. More often though, it was the key to forward movement in a case. Wesley rewound the footage, stepped back and let it play, turning to stare out of the window as Callanach watched the final moment before it was switched off, rewatching, studying the apparently empty driveway, deserted garden and the lack of movement in the downstairs hallway.
‘Thank you, Mr O’Rourke,’ Callanach said. ‘I’ll leave you in peace while I go and see what progress scenes of crime have made in the garden.’
Callanach slipped out of the study, moving into the lounge and taking out his mobile phone. Watching the forensics team in the garden through the rear windows, he made another call to Alexina O’Rourke’s mother.
Ten minutes later Callanach knocked once more on Wesley’s study door. On the desk, the laptop sat closed but still warm to the touch when Callanach ran his hand over it.
‘Have you spoken to your wife’s mother yet?’ Callanach asked.
‘No,’ Wesley said. ‘I didn’t want to worry her until you were sure …’
‘I understand,’ Callanach said. ‘I was just wondering if that’s what you were doing, emailing her perhaps. Did you turn your computer off just before opening the door?’
‘Habit,’ O’Rourke said. ‘I work within very strict security parameters at the bank. They insist on a locked door policy when I’m accessing their system.’
‘So you were working?’ Callanach asked.
‘Trying to take my mind off what’s happening,’ O’Rourke said, turning his head away. ‘Have your people found anything more?’ he asked.
‘Could you turn your computer on again,’ Callanach said, ‘in case the kidnapper emails with demands.’
Wesley O’Rourke stared at Callanach, lowered his voice and shook his head. ‘I can’t do that. I’ve already explained my employer’s security restraints,’ he said.
‘I hadn’t realised it was that serious,’ Callanach said. ‘Let’s get the bank on the phone. I’m sure I can persuade them in the circumstances of a missing person believed in danger.’
‘I don’t want my work involved in this,’ he said. ‘I’m a contractor rather than a full-time employee. Any sort of hassle and they won’t renew my contract.’
‘What exactly is the nature of your work at the bank?’
‘For God’s sake. My wife’s life is in danger and we’re running through my fucking CV? I want to talk to your superior officer. Somebody needs to take charge here.’
‘You’re right. Your wife’s life is in danger,’ Callanach said. ‘Does your contract matter more than that?’ Callanach put one hand on the laptop. O’Rourke stepped forward, then back again. ‘We’ll need the laptop as evidence anyway in case your wife has used it. Might give us some clue as to her whereabouts. It’s possible that her abductor has been following her on social media or made contact in some way.’
‘My wife never touched this laptop. She didn’t have access to the security code. I think perhaps I should phone Alexina’s mother now. I wonder if I could have the room a minute to make the call in private.’
‘Just before you do that, could you show me the last frame on the CCTV footage again? Right before the cameras were turned off,’ Callanach said.
Wesley O’Rourke frowned and walked slowly towards the control panel. ‘Are you looking for anything in particular?’ he asked.
‘I just need the timecode off the final frame, to make sure we’re cross-referencing it properly with our CCTV searches,’ Callanach said.
‘I see,’ O’Rourke said, scrolling through the timeline. ‘I can download a copy if you want, but I can’t see that it shows anything.’
‘You’re right. It shows nothing at all,’ Callanach said. He went to the study door and beckoned a uniformed officer over. ‘Is it right that you’re in charge of the bank’s internet security system? Data protection, website security, international routing and encoding? The whole lot.’
‘Yes, but I have no idea why you’re …’
‘And is it factually accurate to say that you signed a pre-marital contract that limits your access to any money your wife might receive, including her inheritance, in the event of a divorce?’
There was a long pause. Wesley O’Rourke put his hands on his hips. ‘This is a disgrace. I see where this is going. You’re not putting me in the frame to protect your own back. Your officers messed up. They failed to stop a kidnapping from right outside my door. Now you have no idea where my wife is, so it’s blame the husband time. I love my wife, Detective Inspector. Phone the Buccleuch Arms. I made the booking there just this morning for the weekend. I made her lunch so she didn’t have to do it herself whilst she was ill. I even left her a note …’ his voice cracked and he looked away. The uniformed officer gave an involuntary step towards him with an arm outstretched until she caught sight of Callanach’s face.
‘All exactly the right things to do to ensure we wouldn’t suspect you of having been involved in her abduction,’ Callanach said. ‘You don’t need to admit the existence of the pre-marital agreement. Your mother-in-law has a copy. You stand to lose millions if the inheritance goes into the charitable trust, and a divorce will keep the money out of your reach too by virtue of the agreement you signed. But if Alexina dies before the charity is formed, it’s all yours.’
‘You’ve decided that a motive is all you need to arrest me? It may be my wife who was the lawyer, but I think even I know enough law to be confident that you would need some evidence of my involvement first.’
‘You’re quite right,’ Callanach said, taking a pair of handcuffs from the offi
cer. ‘Your wife didn’t turn the security cameras off,’ Callanach said, taking a pair of handcuffs from the officer. ‘If she had, the last frame would have shown you either in the hallway or the driveway and yet you’re nowhere to be seen. Turn around please.’ The doorbell rang. Callanach could hear Ava calling from the driveway. ‘Let DI Turner in,’ he instructed the officer.
O’Rourke turned round. Callanach pushed him face first against the wall as he cuffed him.
‘You know, you’re right. I forgot with the trauma of the morning that Alexina had called down to me as I was on my way out. She asked me to turn the cameras off for her.’
‘That’s not what you told me this morning,’ Callanach said, securing the cuffs.
‘This morning? When it was just you and me chatting with no witnesses? When I wasn’t under caution and didn’t write it down in a statement?’ O’Rourke pushed his head back so his mouth was as close as he could get it to whisper in Callanach’s ear. ‘I don’t think so, Detective Inspector. I don’t think that’s enough for you to even walk me down my driveway, let alone interview me.’
‘You have the technical capability to be involved in setting up the website through which your wife’s abduction was organised,’ Callanach said. ‘And I have your laptop. You really think a man worried sick about his missing wife does a bit of work to take his mind off it? I’m getting tech officers in here right now. I’m going to have every fragment of data analysed and I will prove what you and I already know.’
‘My lawyer will have me out within hours,’ O’Rourke hissed.
‘That’s all the time I need,’ Callanach said. ‘And you’d better pray that we find your wife before then.’
‘There’s no evidence against me,’ O’Rourke said. ‘You’re running on speculation and crossed fingers.’
‘I also have one of the best hackers in the world with a password to your darknet site,’ Callanach said. ‘And I think that’s enough.’
