Flesh and Blood (DS Vicky Dodds Scottish Crime Thrillers Book 2)

by Ed James

  ‘And did they run it?’

  Jenny smirked as she put a red pepper nigiri in her mouth and chewed. ‘Didn’t have to. He died on remand, remember.’

  ‘But?’

  ‘One of my guys has just finished processing the DNA.’ Her look darkened. ‘Sanderson was definitely the rapist.’

  Vicky put the cap back on. ‘Marianne wasn’t raped, was she?’

  ‘Nope. Neither was Louise. Our copycat is only going part of the way.’

  Just then, MacDonald walked into the canteen, talking on his phone. Probably grassing on her to Raven, or getting an update. He shot her with pistol fingers and left the room. Didn’t seem to want to know how it went with Raven. Or maybe he already knew.

  And it hit Vicky, hard and right between the eyes like a stress headache. ‘What if Sanderson was doing it with someone else?’

  Jenny and Karen shared a look. Puzzlement, maybe, or frustration.

  ‘He raped them, but someone else killed them. Am I going mad here?’

  ‘Not really, no.’ Karen put her phone in her pocket. ‘Look, that podcast, one episode had a chat with the old SOCO guy. The one who lost the prints… What was his name…?’

  Jenny looked over. ‘Willie Orr?’

  ‘Him. I just listened to his episode and he alluded to stuff he couldn’t talk about. Louise Craigen tried to make a big thing of it, like there was some hush-up, tried to get it in the papers, but it didn’t stick.’

  ‘Can you speak to him?’

  ‘I’ve tried. Can’t find him.’

  ‘I know him.’ Jenny carefully placed the lid back on her sushi box. ‘Used to be an officer before they made them all civilians in the eighties. He resisted the dark side of the force and stayed on in our area. Willie took me under his wing when I started here. Good guy, one of the really old school. No-nonsense, and he used to get so much grief for being called Willie.’

  ‘Can we speak to him?’

  ‘You can try.’ Jenny sighed. ‘He’s got Alzheimer’s. Poor guy. Barely clinging on. I mean, you’re welcome to speak to him but I gather it’s not pretty.’

  Vicky got to her feet. ‘Then we need to at least try. We need to know if he ran the prints. Where is he?’

  ‘Lives in a care home in Carnoustie.’

  33

  Vicky trailed Karen down the new road in to Carnoustie. Her satnav was a lying bastard, though, telling her to go along the main road, but that was going to be clogged up with traffic at this time of night.

  And Karen fell for the trap, taking the left along Barry Road.

  Vicky pulled up at the roundabout just as her phone rang. She reached into her bag for it, eyes on the rearview to make sure she was clear of anyone approaching from behind.

  Rob calling.

  She answered it with a frown.

  ‘Vicky.’ Rob sounded stressed, breathing hard. ‘You need to come home. Right now.’

  ‘What’s up?’

  ‘It’s Alan. HOY!’ And he was gone.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  Vicky kicked it into first and swung across the roundabout, heading home. She tapped redial but Rob didn’t answer.

  What the hell was going on? Alan? What was he doing?

  Another right, then another and she was onto Corby Drive, just a left and she was home, but Rob still wasn’t answering.

  She drove into the street and hit the brakes hard.

  Alan was standing in their driveway, laughing.

  Rob stood in his way, fists clenched.

  Vicky pulled up and got out, then ran over to them.

  Rob stepped forward, not quite going head to head with Alan, but not far off rutting stags. ‘Of course I know Bella’s your daughter, but this is my house and these are my size twelves, so I suggest you leave my house if you don’t want them lodged in your backside.’

  ‘I’d love it.’

  Vicky stormed across the driveway and got between them, jabbing a finger at Alan. ‘What the hell are you doing here?’

  Alan was still grinning. ‘Hey, Vicks.’

  She pointed away from the house. ‘Go. Now.’

  But he just stood there. ‘Is this your way of saying I can’t see my own daughter?’

  Vicky wanted to grab his arm and twist it until he squealed, but that was exactly what he was playing for. She took a deep breath. ‘Of course you can see her, just not right now. We need to talk this through.’

  ‘What, so you can get even more of your poison into her skull?’

  ‘My poison? Alan, this needs to be done properly, and by me. Not you. It’s taken me two years to get her to the point where she’ll accept Rob in her life. You can’t just come in here and muddy things like this.’

  ‘After all the help I’ve given you on this case?’

  ‘There we go. You knew I was up in Dundee, didn’t you? So you came here, waited until they got home and—’

  ‘Get real.’ Alan shook his head. ‘Vicky, I just wanted to see Bella. That’s all.’

  Vicky felt sick to the stomach. ‘This is the last time you’ll see her without a court order.’

  Alan stood there, rasping his stubble and smirking. ‘You think you’ll win?’

  ‘You might get rights, but they certainly won’t include seeing her completely unannounced like this. So I need you to leave, now.’

  But he wasn’t looking at her. He was staring to her side. ‘So that’s Rob? Your latest beta male cuck?’

  ‘And you’re such an alpha male.’

  ‘You’re not denying the cuck part. Is that why you were at an escort agency today? Hiring a hooker to—’

  She raised her hand to slap him, but stopped. That was what the little shit wanted. No, she had better ways to make him suffer.

  ‘Vicks?’ Colin Woods was by his front door, surrounded by the din of children running wild. ‘Everything okay?’

  ‘No, Colin. This arsehole is trespassing and won’t leave.’

  Colin’s police officer’s instinct was kicking in. ‘Sir, if you don’t clear off…’

  Alan stared at Colin, then Rob, then back to Vicky. ‘Okay.’ He turned his back on her and walked up the street.

  Colin was walking over. ‘Who was that?’

  ‘Bella’s dad.’

  Colin shared a look with Rob. ‘Oh.’

  ‘Aye. Thanks.’

  ‘I know you can handle yourself, but sometimes you just need another witness. Right?’

  ‘So true.’ She clapped his arm and watched him walk back to his house.

  ‘You okay?’ Rob was in the drive, frowning at her.

  ‘I’m not, no.’ Vicky let out a slow breath. ‘How are you?’

  ‘Rattled.’ Rob wrapped her in a hug and held her there.

  She looked up at him. ‘Where’s Bella?’

  ‘Inside.’ Rob took her hand and led her across the slabs to the house. One last look at the road and he opened the door for her.

  The place was quiet, just the distant swooshing of Jamie playing his video games in the living room.

  Vicky followed Rob through to the kitchen.

  Outside, Bella was running around, hair in pigtails and chasing after a football, dribbling the ball through a maze of imaginary defenders. She kicked it, with way more grace than any of the boys her age, and it arced through the air and bounced off the window. Her hands shot to her mouth, eyes wide.

  Vicky beckoned her inside.

  Bella trudged over the grass and opened the door. She was wearing her Dundee Utd replica kit, even the bright-orange socks. ‘Sorry, Mummy.’

  ‘It’s fine, Bells. Just go and play with Jamie, okay?’

  ‘But he’s playing Mario Kart and he won’t let me—’

  ‘Tell him I told him. Okay?’

  ‘O-kay.’ And she huffed off through the house.

  Vicky let her shoulders go. Now Bella was inside, Vicky started to feel centred again. In her home, their home. A family. Mum, Dad, two kids.

  She looked over at Rob. ‘Thanks for
doing that.’

  ‘I’m a teacher. I can handle myself with useless wee wankers.’

  ‘And I’m still sorry. You shouldn’t have had to deal with him.’

  ‘Vicky, we’re in this together, okay? You, me, Bella, Jamie. Whatever happens, we’ve got each other. Okay?’

  She wrapped him in a hug. Pulling him tight. ‘Thank you.’

  He nudged her back, but still held tight. ‘So, what’s Alan playing at?’

  ‘He’s playing games with me. I just don’t know what. He’s been sniffing around this case and now he’s here and getting at you and Bella and Jamie and…’

  ‘It’s fine.’ He held her that bit tighter. ‘It’s just… What did you ever see in him?’

  ‘I really don’t know. That part of me died a long time ago, I swear.’

  ‘And he wants access to Bella? Now?’

  ‘I don’t know. It’s hard to tell with him. And if he does… it’ll be impossible to fight, especially given that he’s her father. And I kept it a secret from him for way too long.’

  ‘How did he find out about her?’

  She didn’t have an answer to that. ‘I’ve no idea. But we need to be really careful here. This can have a long-term effect on Bella.’ She grabbed his hand. ‘As can not having a long-term father figure. We’re in this together, okay? Warts and all.’

  ‘Okay.’ Rob sighed. ‘Come on.’ He led her through to the living room.

  The kids were lying on the floor in front of Rob’s massive new telly, tummies on the ground, looking up at the little figures racing around a cartoon world. Time was Vicky and Andrew did exactly the same on his old Nintendo thing. And he hated it when she won.

  ‘Mummy!’ Bella held the blue controller and weaved around like she was controlling her own movements. ‘And he keeps using the shells on me!’

  ‘Bella, it’s all part of the game.’ Jamie adjusted his glasses. ‘You can use them on me.’

  ‘How?’

  ‘Oh come on! I keep telling you!’

  Vicky looked outside and there was no sign of Alan.

  But there was a car sitting in the parking bays round the corner, idling. A Ford Mondeo. And Alan was behind the wheel, talking to someone on his phone.

  He’d been following her all day, but she could flip his tail and follow him, see who’s been talking about her.

  Find out if it was Considine. Maybe that’s who he was on the phone to.

  ‘I need to speak to him. He’s interfering in this case. And someone’s leaking to him about the case, and about me. About us. I need to stop him tormenting us like this. I want to protect Bella and Jamie from him.’

  The exhaust plumed and Alan tossed the phone onto the passenger seat, then eased off along the street.

  ‘Following him?’ Rob nodded slowly. ‘He’ll have spent all day looking for your car. Take mine.’

  ‘Good idea.’ Vicky leaned over and kissed him. ‘And I love you, Rob.’

  ‘Love you too.’

  34

  Vicky kicked Rob’s car down and sped up, following Alan’s Mondeo as he drove along Barry Road. Instead of heading out of Carnoustie, he passed over the roundabout.

  She put her phone to her ear. ‘Control, can you get me an update on those plates?’

  ‘Just running them now.’ Sounded like the operator was chewing something. ‘Registered to an Alan James Lyall of Pipe Street, Edinburgh.’

  ‘Anything outstanding on it?’

  ‘Nope. Clean as a whistle.’

  Well, that wasn’t what she wanted, but maybe what she expected. ‘Okay, thanks.’ She killed the call and followed, keeping at a safe distance, keeping it slow, which wasn’t difficult given the amount of double parking going on. Something in the warm weather brought the numpties out in droves and made them think that parking like a normal human being was optional.

  Alan pulled round the corner and she lost him briefly. Looked like he was speaking to someone on his phone.

  Round the bend and Vicky had to slam on the brakes. A police car shot down from the old police station, now all but permanently closed down, blocking the road.

  A few metres ahead, Alan leaned back and stared up at the heavens. The blocking car powered on, and Alan sped off along the straight high street, a narrow Scottish artery thick with cars instead of fat and cholesterol. He took a right at the Stag’s Head pub, and powered on down the side street, heading towards the golf course.

  Vicky was on home turf, knew all of these roads inside out.

  She took the right by the chip shop and ploughed down in parallel. At the end, a cheeky bastard in a Volkswagen SUV tried to pull out but the big sod caught her glare and stayed where he was, flicking the wanker gesture at her. She turned left onto Kinloch Street and, through the heat haze, she could see Alan at the end, cutting across the junction. She kept her distance, kept her focus on him as she slowed for the junction.

  A blue Nissan was hurtling towards her, the red-faced driver shouting at something or nothing, so she floored it and cut across in a blaze of horns and squealing brakes.

  Alan was indicating, still heading towards the golf links at a fair old lick.

  She followed, having to go faster than she’d like on quiet streets like these, and she cut through the short tunnel under the train line and out the other side, then drove up to the junction.

  The rest gardens sat to one side, with the leisure centre just beyond. An old hotel sat opposite, long since turned into flats. The golf course lay further over, but the stands were half down, with giant trucks blocking any view along that way.

  She’d lost him.

  Shit, shit, shit.

  No, wait. The Black Slab lurked under the sky, the sun silhouetting some dog walkers. Almost tea time, so the lack of cars made sense. Perfect meeting place.

  Alan’s car was the only one she could see, trundling over the asphalt until it parked between two flat-bed trucks. Made things much harder for her approach.

  Vicky followed him, but parked at a distance and kept an eye on the sneaky bastard. She leaned her head back against the headrest and waited.

  All this was because of her father. And she was bringing Alan back into their life. Or rather, he was forcing his way in. Either way, it was endangering Bella’s future and risking Jamie and Rob.

  Her phone rang again. Karen. ‘What is it?’

  ‘Are you okay?’

  And that hurt Vicky worse than anything. She had no idea how she felt. ‘What do you mean?’

  ‘Just spoke to Colin. Said there was something happening at your house?’

  ‘It was Alan. Trying to get in to see Bella. Rob stopped him, and… I’m following him.’

  ‘Following him? Have you lost your mind?’

  ‘Probably. But he’s got a mole and I’m determined to find out who it is. Where are you?’

  ‘At the care home. But the nurses aren’t letting me see Willie Orr.’

  The old SOCO. Right. Felt like a million years ago. ‘Can you come to the Black Slab?’

  ‘In Carnoustie?’

  ‘Right.’

  ‘I’m two seconds away.’

  ‘Okay.’

  ‘Stay there.’

  Vicky ended the call, but she couldn’t sit still.

  A door slammed and Alan walked along the Black Slab, hood up with a maroon baseball cap poking out. He slipped between another two lorries and disappeared.

  She got out and nudged the door shut until it clicked. The warm wind cut through her hair and she had to fight it back into place. She checked she had her baton and set off.

  Christ, the number of times she’d sat in cars here. First with older boys, then with her mate Lizzie, shouting along to Alanis Morissette, then alone in her car, then bringing Bella to play in the park.

  She reached the first lorry, but the clattering of the workmen drowned out any sound. A deep breath for luck and she crept along the side of the lorry. She stopped at the end to peek round.

  Alan was kneeling o
n the passenger seat of a blue Subaru.

  Vicky pulled back and pressed herself flat against the truck.

  A Subaru. Idiots. Alan was meeting Considine.

  She’d seen them at the hotel, laughing and joking. And the twat had denied knowing him, kept calling him Constantine. How much was Considine getting as a backhander? How could he give up all that information on Bella?

  She needed to get in there, confront them.

  But the Subaru drove away, rally style, sliding into a reverse then screeching off.

  Christ, she couldn’t see who was behind the wheel.

  She ran back to her car, gunned the engine and powered off, wrapping the belt around her until it clicked, then wrestling with her mobile, dialling Karen.

  ‘What now?’

  ‘I need you to man-mark Alan’s car. A blue Ford Mondeo parked between two lorries. 67 plates.’ Vicky shot across the road in the Subaru’s wake. She spotted Karen coming from all the fancy new golf apartments along the seafront, but soon she was gone as Vicky hurtled back the way she’d come.

  Blink and you’d miss it, but the Subaru shot left at the top end onto Dundee Street without indicating.

  ‘Can you find out who’s got the pool Subaru now?’

  ‘You think it’s Considine, don’t you?’

  ‘Just do it. Please.’

  ‘Okay…’

  Vicky dumped the phone on the passenger seat. At the top of the road, she had to wait for a long queue of traffic so she checked that Karen was still on the call. She was.

  The Subaru sat by the Stag’s Head pub, indicating right, but caught up by a long wave of traffic coming from Dundee, weaving in and out of the parking bays. Carnoustie High Street was still a nightmare for cars. And the town’s stupid layout didn’t give Vicky any opportunities to head them off at the pass.

  Well, she could double back, go up Queen Street and along Terrace Road, but by the time the Subaru had—

  No, she had a plan. She took the left down Links Avenue then along Kinloch Street, unpicking her earlier trail, then squaring the circle up Camus Street.