The Book of Souls (Inspector McLean #2)(95)

‘Using half the force to search for your girlfriend, by the look of things. When you’re meant to be giving me a briefing so I can take over this case. You haven’t even finished the report that was supposed to be on my desk yesterday.’

Out of the corner of his eye, McLean saw DS Ritchie creep away to her desk and log into her computer. He could hardly blame her; the last thing she needed was to be caught in a row between two of her superior officers. Again.

‘Something came up,’ he said. ‘A new development.’

‘Yes, I heard. You had an argument with your precious little SOC officer and now she won’t talk to you. Don’t you think that launching a full manhunt is a bit over the top?’

How did he get to be a chief inspector? No, how did he even get to be in CID?

‘We’ve got a serial killer out there, sir. He’s abducted three women already. Now a fourth has gone missing. No one knows where she’s gone. Her car, her handbag, her house keys: they’re all here in the station car park. That sounds very much to me like she might have been, oh, I don’t know ... abducted? Forget that she’s a SOC officer, or that I even know her. She’s been missing for less than a day. If we can track her last movements we might just possibly be able to catch the sick bastard who took her.’ And save her life.

‘This is nonsense, McLean.’ Duguid shook the photograph. ‘You’ve no evidence she’s been taken. It’s just supposition. There’s a proper procedure—’

‘Sir ... er, sirs?’ DS Ritchie said. ‘There’s something here I think you should see.’

Dagwood turned on the hapless detective. ‘What is it, sergeant? Can’t you see we’re busy?’

‘Er ... Well ... It’s just that I was doing some background checks on Anderson. For DI McLean? And I’ve just had a list of visitors he had whilst he was in Peterhead.’

‘And this is relevant how?’ Dagwood asked.

‘Well, it’s just that there’s one name I wasn’t really expecting to see. Went to see Anderson about once a month for the last eighteen months or so.’

‘Who?’ McLean peered at the partially obscured computer screen.

‘Sergeant John Needham, sir.’

‘Needy?’ Dagwood scoffed like a professor presented with a genuinely novel idea. ‘You’ve not been here long, missy, otherwise you’d realise what a stupid suggestion you’re making. Sergeant Needham was one of the team that brought Anderson to justice. He’s been a stalwart of this police force for decades. His father and grandfather were both policemen. You’re not really suggesting he’s our new Christmas Killer, are you?’

‘I only meant to point out—’ Ritchie started, but Dagwood wasn’t listening.

‘It’s just as well the DCC asked me to take over. This whole investigation’s a complete and utter farce. McLean, I want a full briefing in one hour, and then you and your team can get on with reviewing all the old Anderson cases.’

McLean’s phone stopped him from striking a superior officer. It rang in his pocket, and being able to ignore the DCI by answering it was almost enough.

‘McLean?’

‘Um, MacBride here, sir. I’ve been going through those tapes like you asked. I think we might have got something.’

McLean ended the call and dropped his phone back into his pocket. ‘Bob, Ritchie, with me.’ Before he could move, Dagwood grabbed him by the arm.

‘Where the bloody hell do you think you’re going? Briefing in one hour, remember?’

McLean shrugged off Dagwood’s hold. ‘Oh f*ck off, you pompous old twat,’ he said, and stormed out the door.

Grumpy Bob was trying hard not to chuckle as they walked up the corridor towards the video viewing room, leaving an open-mouthed Dagwood standing alone in the CID room. ‘Was that wise, sir? I mean, it was inspired, yes. But he’s going to kick up a hell of a row.’

‘You know, Bob, I really don’t care. They can sack me if they like. Then I won’t have to work with idiots like him any more.’ McLean noticed the mobile phone clutched in the sergeant’s hand. ‘Did you get in touch with Needy, by the way?’

‘No answer, but he could’ve popped out to the shops.’ Or he could be raping Emma Baird, Bob didn’t say, but the look on his face was enough. They had arrived at their destination, and squeezed into the darkened viewing room without another word.

‘See here.’ DC MacBride fiddled with the video controls and a picture appeared on the screen. ‘This is the car park yesterday morning. There’s two cameras, but this one shows the best angle.’

McLean squinted at the poor-quality image, watching as a pale blue Peugeot kangarooed into a parking space in a series of jerky hops. A short, dark-haired figure got out, opened the boot, took out a big box, slung something in, closed the boot and headed off towards the back door to the station, disappearing off camera soon after.

‘I’ve been through the tapes for the next twelve hours. Admittedly quite fast, but there’s no sign of her coming back.’

‘This much we knew, Stuart. What did you bring me here for?’

‘Ah, well.’ The detective sergeant clicked another button and the image changed angle. Now the camera showed the ramp leading down into the basement loading area just off the evidence locker. It was too dark to see if the metal roller doors were open or closed, but after a few moments, a large estate car backed down the ramp and disappeared. Minutes later it came back again and drove off. McLean looked at the time-stamp on the video. Half-past ten in the morning.