Easy Kill (32 page)

He couldn’t shake off the thought that if Rhona had stayed with him, she would have been safe. But you couldn’t make Rhona do anything she didn’t want to. If McNab had learned anything in the short space of their relationship, it was that.

The camera image of her lying helpless in the cellar had affected McNab deeply, in a way he was not proud of. To be in control of Rhona was a fantasy of his. A fantasy that could never be realised. Rhona could never be possessed. McNab had tried and failed. Maybe if he hadn’t tried so hard, they would still be together.

A white van drew up. McNab watched as a constable moved to the driver’s window and asked the usual questions. Routine. Endless routine, which – the boss never tired of telling his team – was good policing. McNab’s eyes drooped with fatigue. The only thing
that would keep him awake now was alcohol or the prospect of sex.

McNab’s eyes ran over the van and checked the number plate. They’d had a half-dozen delivery vans through already, starting before the rush-hour traffic. This one was no different. The constable stepped back and the engine revved into action. Something in that sound alerted McNab. The guy was really keen to leave. Watch and listen, that’s what the DI had told him.

The vehicle was pulling away.

‘Stop,’ McNab shouted without knowing why. Then his brain registered what his eye had spotted. A towbar on the rear bumper.

The van slithered to a halt. McNab immediately thought that a guilty man wouldn’t stop. A guilty man would drive on. Knock them down in his effort to escape.

McNab checked out the occupant of the driver’s seat. An ordinary bloke. Middle-aged. A face he didn’t recognise under the lid of the cap. They had only one photo to go on. Bradley had said it might be Henderson, but couldn’t be sure. He looked different now, Bradley had said. Smarter. This guy didn’t look smart and he definitely smelt ripe.

‘Lose the cap.’

McNab watched as the man reached up with his left hand. The exposed hair was thinning and mousey-blond.

‘I’d like a look in the back.’ McNab could have sworn the guy flinched.

‘Be my guest.’

The guy got out of the cab and strolled around. Took his time about unlocking the door, then stood back for McNab to take a look.

McNab could sense something about him, something stiff and alert. The guy was cool, but McNab could hear a strange tension in his voice. No light came on when the door opened. The back was a place of shadows. The man stood quietly as McNab jumped inside.

A jumble of stuff, clothes, cardboard boxes. McNab picked up a set of stinking overalls.

‘Sorry about the smell. I’ve been clearing a drain for a mate.’

McNab threw the offending garment to one side. ‘Where did you say you were headed?’

‘South.’

‘Where south?’

‘Bradford.’

Wrong answer, mate
.

McNab surreptitiously prodded the remaining heap of clothes and his foot met something firm. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw the swift movement of the man’s left hand towards his belt.

McNab flung himself to the floor of the van, shouting ‘Gun!’ to alert his colleagues. He felt something firm absorb his fall and began to hurl aside the remaining garbage, oblivious to the shots outside.

The shiny blue sleeping bag was zipped all the way around like a body bag. McNab cursed as the zip caught, then forced himself to go more slowly,
imagining all the time the blue and lifeless body of his boss’s daughter inside.

At last he had it open.

Lisa’s face was like porcelain. McNab wondered if such beauty came only with death. Routine sent his fingers searching for a pulse. He caught it, lost it. Panicked. Found it again. Held it, faint but steady. With his other hand he pulled the gag from her mouth and leaned close. His heart leapt as he heard her suck in air and saw her chest rise.

‘Lisa?’ Her lids flickered at her name. McNab tried again. ‘Lisa.’

The eyes slowly opened.

McNab would remember her look of fear for ever. Fear, then joy.

THE DISTURBED EARTH
had turned out to be the grave of a dead dog, its corpse bearing the signs of a traffic accident. A Glasgow resident had deemed their pet important enough to take up residence in Glasgow’s answer to the Père Lachaise.

There had been four other reports of scratched gravestones, symbols that might have been a fish, or a fish and a moon. Magnus had been wrong, although his conviction had brought them there, like disciples following a prophet. Desperation had made fools of them all.

The call came in on his mobile as Bill abandoned the search and headed for the Bridge of Sighs.

‘I’ve found Lisa.’ McNab’s voice cracked with emotion. ‘She’s alive.’

‘Where?’

‘We stopped a van. Lisa was trussed up in the back. The driver ran, but we got him.’

Bill shook with relief. ‘Is she okay?’

‘Shaken, but all right. She’s on her way to the Royal.’

Bill felt his legs give way under him and grasped a nearby headstone for support. ‘I’ll call home.’

Margaret answered immediately. He imagined her
waiting, like Nora Docherty, for the call that would pronounce her child dead.

‘We’ve got her. Lisa’s okay.’

Bill wished he could put his arms around his wife as he listened to her weep.

‘She’s at the Infirmary. I’ll send a car for you.’

‘Thank God.’

‘She gave a pretty coherent account of how she was grabbed,’ the doctor told Bill. ‘But couldn’t remember much after that. She asked to have a rape examination. There was no semen, but we found this.’

He produced an evidence bag. Through the clear plastic, Bill saw a small silver charm, shaped like a half-moon.

Bill felt bile rise in his throat. He wanted to cry out, but was struck dumb. He accepted the bag and put it in his pocket.

‘The girl doesn’t know about the charm yet. I thought I’d leave that up to you. You’ve informed her family she’s here?’

Bill realised the doctor had no way of knowing he was more than just a policeman.

‘Lisa is my daughter.’

The doctor’s matter-of-factness transformed into genuine distress.

‘I’m so sorry. I didn’t know.’

Bill brushed his concerns aside. ‘Where is she?’

Bill stood at the door, hardly daring to enter in case he woke her. He hadn’t composed himself yet, hadn’t
perfected the lie he’d made up his mind to tell. Lisa suspected the bastard had violated her. She didn’t need to know he’d left something behind to prove it.

Bill moved quietly to stand by the bed. His first-born. His wee girl. Now he knew what it was to be David Docherty. Understood why Docherty had prowled the streets. Felt the man’s pain, anger, shame and impotence. And most of all, his desire for revenge. Only one thing separated them now. Bill’s daughter was alive.

Lisa’s eyes opened.

‘Oh Dad, I’m sorry.’

Bill drew her into his arms, not wanting her to see his tears. Lisa was apologising to him, but he was the one who’d failed. Failed to protect his family, failed to protect his precious daughter, with all the knowledge and resources at his disposal.

‘I lost Susie on the way out. I went back in to look for her, but she wasn’t there. I panicked a bit because you didn’t want me to go to the concert, and Susie’s mum had only let her go because she was with me. She thinks because you’re a policeman . . .’ Lisa left the sentence unfinished. ‘I went looking for Mum. There was a van with its back door open. I walked past and he just grabbed me.’

Magnus had been right. The killer had watched and waited and taken his opportunity when it arose. They’d all played into his hands, one way or another.

‘We got him. He’ll pay for what he did,’ Bill said, knowing he wasn’t interested in justice. He wanted Henderson dead. He would always want him dead.

When Margaret arrived, Bill left the two women alone together. Margaret would need to be told about the charm, but not yet.

Rhona lay still, a monitor beeping beside her. Bill thought she was asleep, but when he approached, she turned and looked at him, her eyes full of fear.

‘We found Lisa. She’s all right.’

Rhona grabbed his hand. ‘Thank God.’

‘McNab searched a van going through the road block. She was trussed up in the back.’

They stared at one another, both knowing how close death had come. Bill couldn’t bring himself to mention the charm. Rhona had enough to think about without that horror. He felt as responsible for her as he did for his daughter, for Nora’s daughter. For all the women the Gravedigger had tortured and killed before they caught him.

Accident and Emergency had a half-dozen people still waiting to be seen, but there was no sign of Magnus, either in the waiting room or the cubicles. An enquiry at the desk confirmed Bill’s suspicions. Wherever Magnus had gone when he left the Necropolis, it hadn’t been to the hospital.

MAGNUS MADE HIS
way home through the early morning streets. He knew he looked a mess, by the shocked glances of the few people about at that time. One man offered to call an ambulance, but Magnus brushed his concerns aside. The pain from his wounds was the only thing keeping him upright.

The flat was silent and still. Magnus poured himself a stiff drink and took the bottle to the balcony. The sight of the river calmed him a little. Had he been in Orkney he would have immersed himself in the sea. Tried to wash himself clean, inside and out. Here, he had to be content with the river’s close presence. The whisky entered his bloodstream like a transfusion. Magnus drank it down and poured another.

He swirled the measure around the glass, thinking of Rhona standing next to him that night on the balcony. The scent of her skin. The mind games they’d played.

He’d wanted to go to the hospital and make sure she was all right. But he hadn’t, knowing it wasn’t his place to be there. He wasn’t her lover. Sean was.

When the buzzer went, Magnus glanced at the video-screen and opened the door without speaking. He’d been waiting for this moment. It was the first time
they’d met since that night in the club. Then Sean had been relaxed, friendly, and rightly suspicious of Magnus’s motives.

Sean walked into the sitting room, his steady stride belying the amount of drinkhe’d consumed. They stood facing one another, absurdly, over the chessboard.

Magnus waited in silence. Part of him wanted Sean to hurt. Maybe then he would break up with Rhona, leave the way clear. The rest of him hated himself for even thinking that.

‘Is Rhona okay?’ he said.

‘What the fuck do you care?’

When Sean sprang towards him, Magnus didn’t move. Perhaps he wanted to be beaten, punished for abandoning Terri and leading Rhona into danger. Sean caught him by the throat and forced him against the wall. They stood eye to eye.

‘I saw you at the club. I saw the way you looked at her.’

‘I didn’t touch Rhona.’ Magnus wanted Sean to know that, at least.

‘But you wanted to.’

‘Yes, I wanted to.’

His admission should have made Sean angrier, but seemed not to. He released his hold and stepped back.

Sean looked Magnus up and down, taking in the muddied torso and wrecked hands.

‘What happened to Rhona in that place?’

Magnus knew then that he wasn’t the only broken man in the room. He shook his head. It wasn’t for him to say.

‘What did he do to her? Tell me, you bastard!’

Magnus took the blow full on the face. On the second, he fought back, feeling his own knuckle hit bone. They were evenly matched. Two men, full of anger because they’d failed to protect the woman they both cared deeply about.

BILL WAS MET
with a cheer when he entered the incident room. The night shift hadn’t left and the day shift had joined them. Bill let their combined forces express their joy, his joy.

‘Okay, where is he?’

‘Interview room one, but the Super wants a word first.’ Janice handed Bill the phone.

It rang only once. Bill imagined Superintendent Sutherland in his dressing gown, pacing the floor.

‘Sir?’

‘How’s your daughter?’

‘She’s fine,’ Bill lied.

‘Good.’

There was a pause while the Super cleared his throat.

‘You will not interview Henderson.’

Bill said nothing.

‘DS McNab will do it.’

Bill remained silent.

‘That’s an order.’

‘Yes, sir.’

Sutherland sounded relieved not to be argued with. ‘Go home. Get some sleep. Be with your family. Come and see me in twenty-four hours.’

Bill put down the phone, aware of every eye in the room on him. Everyone knew what the conversation had been about.

He turned to McNab. ‘Okay, let’s go.’

Magnus had been right. He was ordinary. Henderson, or Williams, or Gordon. His hair was thinning on top, though still blond, grey at the temples. Eyes not empty, nor soulless, just calculating, with a hint of mocking superiority.

McNab sat next to Bill, awaiting orders to start the tape. Bill nodded and McNab did the preliminaries, listing all the pseudonyms. They were facing not one man, but three, and all of them killers.

‘I demand a lawyer be present.’

McNab snorted. ‘English law. Doesn’t work that way in Scotland. We haven’t charged you yet.’

A flicker of unease crossed Henderson’s face. It was a small success, but tasted sweet nevertheless.

Bill fingered the plastic evidence bag in his pocket. The half-moon charm would go to forensic, but not yet. Bill drew out the bag and placed it between them on the table. He reported the exhibit for the tape. McNab had never seen the charm and had no idea what it meant. He threw Bill a questioning look.

Henderson glanced down at the bag and smiled. Bill’s stomach lurched.

Henderson looked up. ‘Shame. I planned to go back in for that.’ He licked his lips. ‘Bet you didn’t know your daughter shaved her pussy. Who for, I wonder?’

McNab flinched, anger reddening his face.

Bill fought to control his own reaction and succeeded in keeping his voice steady, as he addressed the tape. ‘Note, Mr Henderson has admitted to placing the charm inside Lisa Wilson and also to planning a further sexual assault on her.’