See Them Run

by See Them Run (retail) (epub)

  Edward Collinson glanced down and feigned an air of disinterest.

  Clare moved the page to the side and indicated the next sheet. ‘And this one indicates messages received by a mobile phone registered to Mrs Jennifer Gilmartin. Jennifer Gilmartin is married to Bruce Gilmartin, who you said you may have met but did not know.’

  The solicitor was looking at his client, a hint of concern on his face. ‘May I ask, Inspector, where this is leading?’

  ‘These records show that your client sent a text message to Jennifer Gilmartin this morning just before nine o’clock. If you recall, at nine this morning your client was here on a voluntary basis and would still have had possession of his mobile phone.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘And he sent a text message to a person he is on record as saying he does not know.’

  ‘I’m sure my client must have made an error, Inspector. It’s easy to type the wrong number isn’t it?’

  ‘Perhaps then Mr Collinson would let us know who he meant to text? Then we can check the number.’

  Edward Collinson waved this away. ‘With everything that’s going on, Inspector, I can’t possibly remember. Have you any idea how distressing this whole business has been for me?’

  Clare ignored this. She stacked the sheets of paper neatly and put them to one side. Then she looked levelly at Edward Collinson. ‘We believe Mrs Gilmartin is involved in procuring youngsters for the purposes of sexual exploitation. We also have a witness who will positively identify you as participating in sexual activities with minors. Repeatedly.’

  He snorted. ‘Some girl who’d say anything for a packet of fags?’

  ‘What makes you think it’s a girl, sir?’

  He saw his mistake and tried to rescue the situation. ‘Well, it was you who mentioned minors. I just assumed you meant girls…’

  Clare rose. ‘I can assure you, sir, that the witness was interviewed correctly, in the presence of two police officers and an independent third person, and that your photograph was positively identified from a selection of more than twenty photos. A statement has been taken and we will be charging you with offences in relation to that statement. And now, sir, perhaps you would like to speak with your solicitor alone.’

  * * *

  DCI Gibson was relieved to hear they had enough to charge Edward Collinson. ‘He’d have made one hell of a stink if we’d had to let him go.’

  ‘He’s as guilty as sin, sir,’ said Clare. ‘If Nat Dryden also identifies him then we’re home and dry. I’ll see to it that he goes away for a good long stretch.’

  ‘And Fergus Bain?’

  ‘Struggling with him, to be honest, sir. He’s confessed to the murders of Bruce Gilmartin and the professor and the attempted murder of Pam last night. But I doubt we’ll get him on conspiracy to murder the other two unless we can find the accomplice. We could try, but I’m not convinced the fiscal would take it to court. Even then we might not get a conviction. Might be the best we can do.’

  ‘What about the accomplice? Any luck with Garthley House?’

  ‘Chris was working on it but he left off to go over to the Gilmartins’. Connor, Steve and Phil are here now, though, and in touch with Social Work. It won’t be a quick job but they’ll keep at it till we get a result. Or not…’

  ‘And Mr Dryden?’

  ‘I’ve sent a message to him to have a solicitor there at two this afternoon so we can take a formal statement. Chris will come with me.’

  ‘Okay, Inspector. Let me know if you have any problems.’

  Clare hesitated. ‘You know, sir, speaking to Fergus about his own experiences at the home – I kind of understand his actions. It’s pretty desperate stuff. He must be so damaged.’

  ‘We can’t think like that, Inspector. We’re here to prosecute where we see illegality. The rest is up to the courts.’

  ‘I suppose.’ Clare left his office went to the incident room. It was empty and she sat down for a minute. She was bone tired and her ears hurt. She longed for this investigation to be over.

  ‘Not there yet, though,’ she said to herself.

  Chris poked his head round the door.

  ‘We’re due up at Ninewells in just over an hour to see Nat Dryden. Fancy a quick bite of lunch first?’

  ‘That’s an excellent idea, DS West.’

  ‘I’ve been known to have them.’

  * * *

  Nat Dryden was sitting up in a chair when Clare and Chris entered. Clare tried to avoid looking at the space where his leg would have been, smiling instead at a smart woman in a dark suit.

  ‘My solicitor,’ said Nat. ‘Valerie Grimmond.’

  Clare shook hands with the solicitor then sat down beside the bed. She looked at Nat and her mind involuntarily flicked back to the photos he had appeared in. She thought of Jasmine, stony-faced, apparently immune to her experiences. Only concerned about getting a fag from Miranda. And this shadow of a man sitting before her, one leg missing, bruised, battered and hooked up to monitors – this man was one of Jasmine’s abusers. Remember that, Clare. Remember what he’s done. And then she thought of Fergus. His life in ruins. Ruined from the day he first entered Garthley House. And these men – men like Nat with their perverse appetites – these men were ruining more lives every single day; boys like Fergus, girls like Jasmine. She looked at him and fought back the contempt she felt. This interview was vital. She mustn’t blow it.

  ‘Nat,’ she began, ‘I’m going to caution and charge you formally today. I’ll be taping this interview. If, at any time, you feel unwell or need to take a break we’ll be happy to do so. I would also say that any assistance you can give us will be noted, should you be sentenced in court.’

  Nat glanced at his solicitor, who said, ‘That’s fine, Inspector. Please go ahead.’

  The interview was as short as Clare could make it. Nat understood the charges relating to sexual conduct with a minor and, on the advice of his solicitor, made no response. But when Clare asked him to identify the other men present at the parties, he said he couldn’t help.

  ‘We were all known by numbers. The idea was the less we knew about each other the safer the whole thing would be. I was number three. Maybe the others knew names but I didn’t.’

  Clare removed a sheaf of photos from her bag and asked if Nat could identify any of the men in them. He quickly identified Bruce Gilmartin.

  ‘He was number four,’ he said, handing back the photo.

  And when he was shown the photo of Andy Robb he identified him as number five. Predictably, the professor was number two. Clare then handed him the photo of Edward Collinson. Her palms were damp. So much was riding on this. They had Jasmine’s evidence but there was no way of telling how she might react to questions from a skilled defence advocate.

  Nat looked long and hard at the photo.

  He doesn’t know him. Of all the photos we needed a positive ID on, he doesn’t know this one.

  After some moments, he handed back the photo and met her gaze. He didn’t speak for a few seconds then he cleared his throat and began. ‘He was the one who worried me. I mean, really worried me. The rest of us, we were all up for a bit of sex with the girls. I mean, they were under age, but not by so much. Hard to tell these days with some of them. I didn’t want the really young ones. Fourteen, fifteen – that was okay. But him… He liked them really young. Boys and girls.’

  Clare looked levelly at him. ‘Nat, for the tape, can you please say if you can identify the man in this photo? I am showing Mr Dryden photo number forty-five.’

  ‘Absolutely. This man owned the house where we met. The house was between Tayport and St Mike’s junction. He was at all the parties, took photos and he engaged fully in sex with minors. The younger the better.’

  Nat’s hands were shaking. Clare looked at his solicitor. The colour had drained from her face.

  The solicitor cleared her throat. ‘Perhaps, Inspector, you have all you need? I think my client should rest now.’

  Cl
are nodded. ‘Thank you, Mr Dryden. You have helped us a great deal.’

  Nat looked away, drawing a hand across his eyes. Clare rose from her seat and nodded at Chris to follow her. He was staring at Nat and she tugged his sleeve. ‘Come on, Chris. Let’s get out of here. Let’s get some fresh air.’

  * * *

  They drove back to St Andrews in silence. At length, Chris said, ‘Do you think you ever get used to that? Dealing with folk like him?’

  ‘Probably not.’

  They lapsed into silence again.

  Then Clare said, ‘We need to get statements from the other girls over at the home.’ She glanced at Chris. ‘I’ll get Vice to do it. Think we’ve both had enough for one day.’

  Her phone rang.

  ‘See who that is, would you?’ she said to Chris.

  ‘Don’t recognise the number.’

  ‘Let it go to voicemail. Whatever it is, it’ll keep.’

  They were driving over the Tay Road Bridge when the phone rang again.

  ‘It’s Jim,’ Chris said.

  ‘Take it, would you?’

  Chris answered the call and after a few minutes hung up.

  ‘Jennifer Gilmartin’s car popped up on the M90 heading for the Queensferry Crossing.’

  ‘Airport?’

  ‘Possibly. We’ll know soon. She’ll be pinging every ANPR on the motorway.’

  ‘Notify traffic in Edinburgh. We want her stopped. Also, get on to the airport. Glasgow airport too. If she tries to get through passport control they can pick her up. And notify car hire companies at both airports. She’s not daft so let’s try to cover all possible options.’

  Chapter 26

  Jennifer Gilmartin’s car was found an hour later at Ingliston Park and Ride, a mile or so from the airport.

  ‘It’s possible she’s taken a taxi into town,’ Jim told Clare and Chris, ‘but we reckon she’s probably taken the tram to the airport. If we’re right, she’ll turn up at a check-in desk before long.’

  ‘Or car hire,’ Clare said.

  ‘That too. They’ve all been notified. Name and photo.’

  They didn’t have long to wait.

  ‘She’s checked in for a flight to the Dominican Republic,’ Jim advised. ‘Leaves in an hour. The Edinburgh lads are on their way to pick her up. They’ll call when they have her in custody.

  ‘Make sure they caution her. We don’t want any slip-ups.’

  ‘Will do, Clare.’

  And suddenly there was nothing to do.

  Fergus Bain had been charged with murder, attempted murder and with Clare’s abduction. Edward Collinson had been charged with sexually assaulting Jasmine Greene, with other charges to follow once the statements had come back from the Vice cops. It was likely that Jennifer Gilmartin would be charged with causing children to participate in sexual activity and Clare felt confident that none of them would see the outside of a cell any time soon. There was a lot of paperwork ahead but somehow she felt disinclined to make a start.

  ‘Think I’ll take Benjy for a walk,’ she said. Chris nodded in response and she lifted her jacket and Benjy’s lead from the coat stand in the corner. The dog, seeing his familiar red lead, leapt off the counter and sat down at her feet, waiting for the lead to be attached.

  It was a lovely May afternoon. Mild and sunny with just a bit of a breeze. She headed out of the station and began walking along Tom Morris Drive. Whether by design or accident, she found herself walking up the curiously named Shoolbraids in the direction of Scooniehill Road. She wondered idly if Angela Robb would be at home. She would have to be told about the arrests. Billy Dodds’ Qashqai was parked outside. Clare rang the bell. Angela’s face fell when she saw it was Clare, but then she spotted Benjy and bent to welcome him. Amazing what the sight of a dog could do to people’s moods.

  ‘You’d better come in,’ she said, stepping back to admit Clare and Benjy.

  Billy Dodds was watching Countdown and he pressed the mute button when Clare entered. Benjy leapt up on the settee and Clare tugged at his lead to pull him off.

  ‘Leave him,’ Angela said. ‘He’s fine. Sit yourself down. Want a coffee?’

  Clare shook her head and sat beside Benjy. ‘I won’t keep you. I just wanted you to know that we’ve made some arrests in connection with Andy’s death.’

  ‘Oh aye?’ Billy responded. Angela said nothing.

  ‘I’m afraid we can’t give you any details at the moment. They’ll be up in court on Monday and there will be a statement for the press, but I thought you’d like to know before it’s made public.’

  ‘Thanks. Appreciate it.’

  ‘And perhaps you could let the family know? Andy’s sister and so on.’

  ‘Yeah. I’ll tell them.’

  ‘There’s something else I have to tell you.’

  ‘Aye?’

  ‘We believe Andy was targeted, among others, because he was engaged in… sexual activity with minors. Under sixteens, I mean.’

  Billy was shaking his head. Angela said nothing.

  ‘We’ll try to keep the detail to the minimum. For the press, I mean. But it’s bound to come out. It always does.’

  Angela found her voice. ‘He always was one for the girls, ye know. But I didn’t think…’

  ‘I know. It’s hard to fathom,’ Clare said. ‘I’m sorry to bring you such awful news.’

  She rose and Benjy leapt off the settee after her. ‘I’ll leave you now. If there’s anything else, I’ll be back in touch.’

  Billy showed Clare to the door. ‘I’ll look after her, Inspector. Dinnae worry.’

  She smiled and left them to digest the news. She stood outside, trying to work out which way to go. Vicky Gallagher deserved to be told as well, but Clare couldn’t face it. Not after the day she’d had, to say nothing of the events of the previous night. The lack of sleep, the constant buzzing in her ears – it was all catching her up. Angela had shown little emotion but Clare knew Vicky’s reaction would be a whole lot different. She might even send Chris and Sara to break the news.

  ‘Come on,’ she said to Benjy. ‘Back to the station. We have Jennifer Gilmartin to interview.’

  * * *

  Clare’s phone was ringing as she pulled into the station car park. ‘Just coming,’ she said, jumping out and locking the car. She walked into the station and then she saw Chris’s face.

  ‘What?’

  ‘Jennifer. She’s given them the slip. Never went through airport security. She checked in a suitcase but we don’t know where she went after that.’

  ‘And?’

  ‘Flight’s gone. The case was taken off the plane when she didn’t board.’

  ‘Did they open it?’

  ‘Yeah. Wasn’t even locked. Full of men’s clothes. Looks like we’ve lost her.’

  Clare swore under her breath. She saw they were waiting for her to speak. ‘Right,’ she said. ‘Get onto the press office. I want her photo on the news, on our Facebook page, alert all railway stations, wanted in connection with serious crimes. No details, mind.’

  Chris went off to call the press office and Clare sought out the DCI.

  ‘Have you any idea where she might have gone, sir?’ she asked.

  He shook his head. ‘Not that I can think. No family round here that I can recall, and I don’t really know who her friends are.’

  ‘Can you authorise a trace of her mobile phone?’ Clare asked. ‘Might help us pin down where she’s heading.’

  ‘You set it up and I’ll authorise it.’

  Chris met her at the office door. ‘Press office are on it. What else?’

  ‘I need her mobile phone tracked. See which masts she’s pinging. The DCI will authorise it.’

  ‘Okay, Clare. Anything else?’

  ‘No, do that and I’ll phone Glasgow airport. She might have taken a taxi or even a train.’

  * * *

  Chris put the phone down. ‘Looks like you’re right. She’s picking up all the phone masts along the M8 t
owards Glasgow airport.’

  ‘Must be in a taxi,’ Clare surmised. ‘Right, I want plain-clothes officers at the airport. Hanging round the taxi ranks. If she sees uniforms she might tell the driver to carry on. Make sure every check-in desk and security guard has her photo. I don’t want her getting away a second time.’

  As Clare had suspected, the phone was tracked to Glasgow airport but, half an hour after she pinged the closest mast there was still no sign of her.

  ‘So she’s still in or around the airport,’ Clare said. ‘Why haven’t they spotted her?’

  ‘Must have slipped past our guys,’ Chris said.

  ‘How the hell?’

  ‘Clare, it’s easily done. Wait for a bus coming in from the long-stay parking and mingle with the passengers. Engage one of them in conversation as you go through the door.’

  ‘Yeah, I suppose. Passport Control alerted?’

  ‘Yeah. Should get her okay this time. They know to delay her at the check-in desk.’

  Clare’s brow creased. ‘Thing is, Chris, if she takes a domestic flight…’

  ‘She doesn’t need a passport. Dammit.’

  ‘Right. Get back onto the airport and ask them for passenger lists for all domestic flights going out for the rest of today. If that turns up nothing we’ll try tomorrow morning. Let’s hope she’s booked onto one of them.’

  * * *

  It took the airport half an hour to find her.

  ‘Booked on the five thirty flight to Luton,’ Chris said. ‘And this time she’s gone through security.’

  ‘Please tell me they’re picking her up?’

  ‘Should be doing that right now,’ Chris said. ‘Just waiting to hear.’

  They sat round the station, waiting anxiously. No one could settle to anything so Clare phoned for a pizza delivery. As the delivery man struggled through the door with half a dozen boxes the phone rang. Chris snatched it up, listened for a few minutes then gave them the thumbs up.