Torch (13 page)

Jaz sank to the
ground and curled in a ball, the damaged hand clutched to his
chest. After a while the pain was bearable and he could stand up.
He dropped the parka on the floor and pulled off his top. It was
clean at least. He wrapped his bad hand in it and pulled the parka
back on.

By rights he
should go, hit the road, jump on the train and disappear until
things had cooled. But he wasn’t going to. Jaz had never thought of
himself as brave. Sticking a needle in his arm was as brave as he
had ever got. And Robbie. Jaz tried not to play back the scene in
his head that Tommy had described so vividly. Robbie had got in the
way and Tommy had removed him. Jaz was getting in the way and Tommy
was warning him. Jaz was the lucky one but to convince Tommy he
wasn’t up north to spy on him, he’d had to say something about
Amy.

The moon was a
sliver of cream in a starred sky. Jaz tucked his bleeding hand
under his right arm and headed for the cottage. The wind felt like
ice against his face. He used his teeth and his good hand to pull
in the cord at the neck of the parka as he circled the garden. If
Tommy jumped him now, he wouldn’t stand a chance. A hammer wasn’t
Tommy’s usual weapon. He preferred to pierce with something other
than a nail.

The cottage sat
in silence, the curtains drawn. Now he was here, Jaz had no idea
what to do. If only Emps was with him. Tears sprung to his eyes. He
didn’t want to think what might have happened to the dog.

He made for the
garage. Keeping low crossing the back garden, eyes on the light
from the windows, he literally fell over the dog’s dead body.

Bess lay on her
side, eyes open, teeth bared in a death-like grimace. Her head was
pulled up and back, the red mark of Tommy’s handiwork dividing her
neck in two. Jaz slumped beside the warm body, knowing Tommy must
have been here only minutes before. Then he noticed that the back
door of the cottage stood open, light spilling onto the grass.

Chapter
21

‘Where the fuck
is she?’

‘We talked
about the paint then she left,’ MacFarlane shouted back. ‘She said
she’d be here in an hour.’

Sev knew
shouting at MacFarlane wasn’t going to produce Rhona, but it made
him feel better.

‘Have you tried
the friend’s flat? Her mobile?’

‘Yes and yes.
The mobile’s switched to the answering service.’ MacFarlane
shrugged his shoulders. ‘Give her time. If she’s having something
to eat...’

Sev forced his
attention back to the plan. ‘She thinks there might be propane down
there?’

‘But where?’
MacFarlane said. ‘We’ve searched the length of the sewer. How could
we miss gas canisters?’

‘The channels
that link the Princes Street sewer with the Nor Loch sewer, have
they all been checked?’

‘We can’t check
every drain in a couple of hours.’ MacFarlane’s voice was
weary.

‘This one meets
the Princes Street sewer near where Rhona found the paint samples,’
Sev stabbed at the paper, ‘I’m going to take a look.’

The number of
people swarming around the city centre made Sev nervous. There were
too many children. How can you arrange a family event, MacFarlane
had said, then tell them not to bring the kids?

Sev looked up
at the sky. Clear as a bell with a thin moon. The Scottish weather
had perversely decided to go dry. There were police about, some in
uniform, some not. MacFarlane had got an agreement to up the police
presence. That was all. If there had been a bomb alert, they would
have taken notice.

Sev headed for
Mary’s former squat. The punk with the dog had been right about
that connection. Come to think of it he hadn’t seen Jaz since their
meeting in the pub. He made up his mind to ask MacFarlane if he was
still hanging round.

Mary Queen of
Scots’ palace had been cleared but it still smelt bad. MacFarlane
had organised a man from Scottish Water to go down with Sev. He
introduced himself as Stuart and indicated a pile of gear for Sev
to put on; overalls, thigh waders, miner’s head lamps and breathing
apparatus.

‘Enough air for
40 minutes,’ he told Sev.

‘I don’t
think...’

‘Health and
Safety,’ the guy insisted.

Sev shut up and
pulled on the gear. He’d trained down here with the Brigade and
knew the score.

The man from
the Water Board went first.

Sev waited
until he reached the bottom rung of the ladder then set off along
the sewer. The sewer had been checked by sniffer dogs but the
variety of pungent smells that lingered here would have put anyone
or anything off the scent.

Fifty metres
further on, Sev spotted the first of the connecting drains on the
opposite wall. He waited for his companion to catch up, then jumped
across.

He was exiting
the last of these when a series of bangs went off. Stuart threw
himself against the wall.

MacFarlane
buzzed his mobile.

‘Sorry about
the noise. A couple of silly buggers throwing bangers on the
brazier outside the first aid tent.’

‘It’s good to
know you’re in control, MacFarlane.’

MacFarlane
ignored the sarcastic remark. ‘Any luck?’

‘Nothing.’

‘It’s heaving
up here, though why anyone wants to dance a Strip the Willow up and
down George Street in the middle of winter defeats me.’

‘I can hear a
siren.’

‘Not headed
here,’ MacFarlane assured him. ‘There’s a concert due to start in
half an hour on the Ross bandstand. You coming up for the
show?’

‘Wouldn’t miss
it for the world. Any sign of Rhona?’

‘Nope. I’ve
sent a car round to check out the flat where she’s staying.’

‘And find out
the home number of that assistant she’s so pally with. Maybe she’s
spoken to her recently.’

Sev signalled
to a relieved Stuart that they should head back up. There was
nothing more they could do down here. The immediate vicinity of the
Gardens was clear. MacFarlane had arranged a high police presence.
There were men on the roofs and the Brigade was on full alert.

When he reached
the surface, Sev headed for a pub on Rose Street, where the
bartender poured his usual without asking, while keeping one eye on
the big screen in the corner.

Sev downed the
double whisky in a oner, enjoying the kick. The one good thing
about cutting down on the drink, he decided, was enjoying its
effect again. He ordered another and had a look at what the rest of
the pub was watching.

The crowds for
the Afore Fiesta event exceeded even his expectations. A helicopter
view was panning across the Gardens and the length of Princes
Street. The events this year were designed to attract whole
families. MacRae was glad Gillian had deserted him and gone north
with Amy. If she hadn’t, Amy might have been out there now.

Sev pulled out
his mobile and called his mother-in-law. It rang four times then
the ansaphone kicked in. He resisted the temptation to curse into
the mouthpiece. Gillian would love that on her mother’s voicemail.
Instead he left a message for Amy and rang off. Wherever they were
they’d have to be back by Amy’s bedtime. He would call again
later.

He concentrated
on the big screen, watching the crowd, looking for the face on the
drawing. Every policeman out there had a copy of the drawing Jaz
had done. Sev ordered another drink. He went to throw it back then
decided to make it last. He had a long night ahead. When the mobile
drilled ten minutes later he thought it was Amy answering his
message. It wasn’t.

‘Where the hell
are you?’ MacFarlane’s voice was tense.

‘Rose Street.
Watching the telly.’

‘I think you
should get over here.’

Chapter
22

The
well-dressed blond man looked embarrassed. Rhona told herself that
intruders don’t generally wear expensive Italian suits and stand in
the hall looking mortified. The guy held out his hand.

‘I’m sorry I
startled you. Greg gave me a key.’ He paused self-consciously.
‘We’re seeing one another. He didn’t tell you about me?’

‘Of course he
did.’ Rhona assured him. ‘You must be Justin.’

He looked
relieved. ‘Yes I am.’

‘Would you like
to wait for Greg?’

He gave her a
wide smile.

‘Can I get you
a coffee?’

‘That would be
great. Greg said he would be back about nine.’

When she came
back with the coffee he’d settled himself on the settee.

‘When Greg said
you were staying, I must admit I was rather jealous.’

‘I wouldn’t
worry about me,’ she assured him. ‘If there’s one thing Greg’s sure
of it’s his sexuality.’

He smiled. ‘I
hear you’re a forensic scientist?’

‘Yes.’

‘Working on a
case?’

‘Always.’

Rhona wondered
what age he was. Greg could certainly give him ten years. It was
none of her business. Greg didn’t mess in her sex life and she
didn’t mess in his. The secret of a long and happy friendship.

MacFarlane was
in full flow when she reached the operations tent set up in the
Gardens. It had taken half an hour to travel the short distance
between Greg’s flat and the end of Princes Street.

‘Rhona!’ MacRae
grabbed her arm and led her in. ‘We’ve been phoning everywhere for
you.’

‘Sorry.’ Rhona
was taken aback by MacRae’s worried look. ‘I diverted my mobile
while I was in the shower and Greg’s ansaphone was on. So what have
I missed?’

MacFarlane
pushed a piece of paper across the desk at her. MacRae was trying
hard not to give her his own resumé as she read it. She could see
why by the second paragraph. Right at the beginning MacRae had
planted the seed of doubt about Jaz. Everything on the paper
suggested there were grounds for suspecting him.

‘Well?’

She looked at
MacRae. ‘I don’t believe it.’

‘Why not?’

She hesitated,
‘It doesn’t feel right.’

‘So speaks the
true scientist,’ MacRae pronounced.

MacFarlane took
her side. ‘Rhona’s right. It’s circumstantial.’

MacRae wasn’t
going to give up. ‘He’s been hanging about since the fire, sticking
his nose in. He took the girl’s dog for God’s sake. Psychological
profiling of the arsonist suggests he will attempt to interject
himself in the investigation because he feels safe enough to do
so.’ MacRae took a breath before launching the next attack. ‘Then
you come up with the glad tidings that he served time with Robbie
Stevens, the drug addict burned to death in the housing scheme
arson attack. In fact they were cosier than that. They ended up
inside together because they’d been running a nice little thieving
business to feed their habit.’

‘As far as we
know he’s been clean since he got out,’ MacFarlane said.

‘Oh yeah? Then
try this scenario for size. Jaz fancies the girl but she doesn’t
fancy him. He finds out where she’s sleeping, rapes her then fires
the place.’

‘Okay.’
MacFarlane was back. ‘But you said the four fires in commercial
property were lit by the same person.’

‘It looks like
it, but you can never be sure.’ MacRae admitted grudgingly.

‘You were
sure,’ Rhona said. ‘And why link Jaz with Robbie Steven’s death?
The arsonist is a professional. Why would he bother firing some
poxy little flat in a housing scheme to get rid of a drug
addict?’

MacRae glared
at her. ‘Maybe Jaz and Robbie were still working together. Maybe
Robbie was messing him about. Maybe Jaz was working for someone
else who wanted rid of Robbie. Who the fuck knows?’

Rhona was
thinking back to her conversation with Jaz in the flat. The way he
had sought her out, wanting her to put pressure on MacRae to get
back on the case; wanting to find those responsible for Karen’s
death. Why would he do that if he’d started the fire? Rhona didn’t
like thinking about the answer. Jaz could have given her a drawing
of anyone, or someone he didn’t like. He could be diverting them
from the real culprit... himself. But she had liked him.

‘There’s one
way to find out if Jaz was involved,’ she said.

‘What?’ MacRae
came in.

‘Bring him in,
ask him to give a DNA sample. We can check it against the girl and
the letter.’

They both
looked at MacFarlane.

‘There’s one
problem,’ he said. ‘Jaz and the dog have disappeared.’

‘Since when?’
MacRae asked.

‘He was last
seen on his pitch at Waverley Station yesterday morning,’
MacFarlane said. ‘The folk at the coffee bar and WH Smith’s say
he’s regular as clockwork. He wasn’t on his pitch today although a
guard said he spotted him on the platform of a northbound train. We
haven’t been able to confirm that.’

‘I saw Gillian
and Amy off this morning,’ MacRae said looking worried.

The bits were
beginning to fit together whether Rhona liked it or not. Jaz’s
preoccupation with getting MacRae back on the case. He’d been
watching Gillian’s house. He knew about the petrol bomb. It seemed
so obvious. Jaz had tried to find out if she knew where Gillian and
Amy were going. She had told him they were headed north to stay
with Amy’s gran. They were going by train because Amy liked
that.

She’d spelt it
out for him.

They were
waiting for her to finish, MacRae’s face already showing his worst
fears confirmed.

‘He’s followed
Gillian and Amy north,’ she said.

Chapter
23

The back door
of the cottage swung open exposing Jaz in a long streak of electric
light. He pressed himself against the wall, his heart pounding
behind his eyes. The cottage was mocking in its silence. No long
howl from Tommy, no sudden flash of steel at his face.

When he finally
had the courage to go in, the hall was strangely welcoming, as if
someone might emerge at any moment and say ‘hi’. In the kitchen,
three cups sat on the table, the teapot nearby. Beside the
old-fashioned range Bess’s basket lay waiting for her return.