A Litter of Bones Read online

  “She’s a biddable big thing when you get to know her,” Sinead confirmed. “Just… noisy.”

  “Meg is certainly that!” Catriona said. She half-laughed, then everything about the situation came rushing back in, shattering her moment of respite.

  “Can you talk me through what happened?” Logan asked, keen to get past the dog chat. “You went for a walk after school…”

  Duncan sat up straighter in the chair. “We drove up to Leanachan. It’s a good walk. You don’t see anyone. We were just doing that, just walking and then…”

  He took a breath, centering himself.

  “Meg ran into the trees. We shouted, but she wasn’t coming back. And, so…”

  He ran his tongue across his lips, his eyes locked on Logan. There was a hopelessness there. A desperation. A cry for help.

  “So, you went after her,” said Logan. “It’s OK. I’d have done the same.”

  Duncan nodded wordlessly.

  “And then what?”

  “I… I shouted. I kept shouting to him. To make sure he was OK,” Duncan continued. “I didn’t want him to get scared. He… he gets scared. We have to leave the light on for him.”

  This time, its was Catriona’s turn to do the supporting hand-squeeze.

  Duncan’s nostrils flared and his mouth turned downward. His eyes filled with fear, self-loathing, and everything in between. His tears, when they fell, were like the waters of purification, cleansing everything away and allowing him to struggle on.

  “So, I shouted, and he shouted back. And then, one time, he didn’t.”

  He stared past the DCI to the wall beyond, as if watching everything play out there. “I knew something was wrong. I don’t know how, but I knew it. I ran back, and he was… He was gone.”

  Duncan raised his eyes to his wife, like a penitent man before God. “I only left him for a couple of minutes. Just a couple of minutes, that was all. I swear.”

  “I know,” Catriona told him. She slid down onto the seat beside him, and he sagged against her. “I know.”

  “And you didn’t see or hear anything?” Logan asked. “There was no sign of anyone else in the area?”

  Duncan shook his head. “No.”

  “They said he was probably hiding in the trees,” Catriona said. “Is that true?”

  “We’re looking into it. But aye, that’s our theory at the moment,” Logan told her. He shifted his attention back to Duncan. “How was Connor during the walk? Anything seem different?”

  “He was quiet.”

  “Doesn’t sound like him,” said Sinead, glancing up from her pad.

  “No,” Duncan agreed. He frowned. “He was talking and everything. Just… Not the same. Not his usual self. He normally doesn’t shut up. And they had swimming at school that day.”

  “He never stops talking about swimming,” Catriona added. The words seemed to take a physical toll on her, and she sagged further into the armchair.

  “Did you ask him about it?” Logan pressed.

  “Aye. He said he was fine. But, he just… I don’t know. There was something.”

  Logan glanced down at Sinead’s notebook to make sure she was writing this down.

  “Did he say anything else? Had he fallen out with anyone at school, maybe?”

  “At school?” said Catriona, incredulous. “You think someone from school did this? They’re eight!”

  “Just pursuing all avenues, Mrs Reid,” Logan told her.

  “You already know who it is!” she replied, her voice rising. “We looked on the internet. We know all about him.”

  Logan bristled. “About who?”

  “Mister Whisper. He’s done this before, hasn’t he?” Catriona continued. Duncan tried to quieten her, but she pulled her hand free from his and batted his protests away. “It’s him, isn’t it? It’s the same thing. The teddy. The photo. It’s the same!”

  “We caught him, Mrs Reid. I can assure you, whoever took Connor, it wasn’t…” He rolled the words around in his mouth, as if unable to spit them out. “Mister Whisper. Owen Petrie, the man responsible for those children’s…”

  He caught himself just in time. “The man who took those children, he’s in Carstairs. We believe the individual who took Connor is trying to emulate Petrie’s abductions.”

  “He killed them. Didn’t he?” Catriona asked, her tone harsh and accusing, daring him to say no. Or praying he would, perhaps. “He killed those boys.”

  Logan hesitated, then gave a nod. “He did, aye. But we’re not dealing with the same man. There’s no saying that’s his intention with Connor.”

  “There’s no saying?” Duncan yelped. He jumped to his feet, his eyes blazing. “That’s the best you’ve got? Our boy’s out there, and that’s all you can tell us? There’s no saying?”

  “Like I say, I understand it’s frustrating, Mr Reid, but—”

  “It’s not fucking frustrating!” Duncan bellowed, looming over the DCI. “A Rubik’s Cube’s frustrating. A jar you can’t get the lid off. Not this. Not this!”

  Sinead stood up and took Duncan gently by the arm. “We know. We understand, Duncan. We do. And we’re going to do everything we can to get him back home, alright?”

  At the back of the room, the kitchen door opened, and Jess, the family liaison officer looked in. Logan dismissed her with a shake of his head and she slipped out of sight again.

  The fury that had propelled Duncan to his feet was already burning itself out. He locked eyes with Sinead, and the hand on his arm became the only thing holding him up.

  “I’m sorry,” he whispered. “I just… I just…”

  “You’re fine. We get it,” Sinead told him. “I understand.”

  “Of course you do, sweetheart,” Catriona said. She reached up and took one of Sinead’s hands for a moment. “After what happened with your mum and dad.”

  Sinead smiled awkwardly, and very deliberately did not meet Logan’s inquisitive gaze. Instead, she helped Duncan back down into the chair beside his wife. Duncan kept his eyes on the floor, embarrassed by his outburst.

  “He didn’t mean that,” Catriona said, putting a hand on her husband’s shoulder.

  “He did,” said Logan. “And he’s absolutely right. Cards on the table? I can’t begin to imagine what you’re going through. None of us can. And I don’t have a lot of information I can give you right now, but what I can give you is my word. I—we—will not stop until we find who’s responsible for this, and get your son back. Whatever it takes, whatever we have to do, we will bring Connor home. That’s a promise.”

  The Reids said nothing, but both seemed to grow in stature a little, buoyed by the speech. Duncan wiped his nose on the sleeve of his creased shirt, screwed the heels of his hands into his eye sockets for a few seconds, then gave a nod.

  “What else do you want to know?”

  Logan caught Sinead’s gaze, then flicked his eyes to the couch beside him. She sat again, pencil poised.

  “You said he seemed out of sorts, but was there anything else? Anything specific he said that seemed unusual?”

  “No, he was just worried about the dog getting lost. It was only because he was panicking that I…”

  His forehead creased. He blinked, caught off guard by something.

  “Wait. Ed.”

  Catriona shifted in the chair so she could look at him. “What?”

  “Ed. He asked about Ed.”

  “Ed who?” Logan probed.

  “Next Door Ed?” Catriona asked. “Why was he asking about Next Door Ed?”

  “I don’t know. He just… He asked if I liked him.”

  “If you liked Ed?”

  Logan cleared his throat, drawing their attention back to him. “Sorry, who is this we’re talking about?”

  “Sorry. Ed, uh, Walker, I think,” Duncan said. He looked to his wife for confirmation. “Walker?”

  “Ed Walker, yes,” Catriona said. “He lives next door.”

  “Only bought the place a few mont
hs back,” Duncan said.

  “Renting,” his wife corrected. She dialled back the certainty a touch. “I think he’s renting, anyway.”

  Duncan shook his head. “He must’ve bought. He was working on converting the loft just before he moved in, I think. Lot of racket, anyway.”

  “Which direction?” Logan asked, steering the conversation back on track.

  Catriona drew a look to the wall on her left, but said nothing.

  “That way,” Duncan said, gesturing in the same direction. He sat forward, his frown deepening. “He asked if I liked him, and then he asked if you liked him.”

  Catriona gave a little snort. “What, me?”

  Duncan nodded. “Aye. He said, ‘Does Mum like Ed?’”

  “Why would he ask if I liked Ed?”

  “I don’t know. I asked him, but that’s when he got panicky about Meg.”

  “I’m sure it was nothing,” Catriona said. The abruptness of it made Logan’s Polis-sense tingle, but he let it slide for the moment.

  “Almost certainly,” Logan agreed. “But we’ll arrange to have a chat with him.”

  He stood up. Sinead hurriedly finished scribbling a note, then got to her feet.

  “Thank you for your time. You’ve been very helpful,” Logan told them. “If you need anything—anything at all—please just ask…”

  He clicked his fingers softly a couple of times.

  “Jess,” said Sinead.

  “Jess. She’ll keep you up to date and get you anything you need. And, if the press lot start to get too annoying, you have my full permission to set the dog on them.”

  Duncan and Catriona moved to get up, but Logan motioned for them to stay seated. “It’s fine. We’ll see ourselves out. Thank you again.”

  He turned, caught sight of the pack of vultures loitering out front, and then turned back. “The back garden. Can I get next door from there?”

  “Aye, but the dog’ll go mental,” Duncan said.

  “I’m sure we’ll cope,” Logan told him.

  “Are you going to see Ed?” Catriona asked. She shot the briefest of glances at her husband. “Next Door Ed, I mean?”

  “Aye,” said Logan. He looked over at the dividing wall, then down at the couple in the chair. “We’ll at least pop our heads round the door.”

  Chapter Ten

  True to form, the dog went bananas when Logan stepped out through the back door and into the garden. Meg raced for him, barking furiously, fur rising on the back of her neck.

  Logan ignored her and plodded down the steps onto the path. The back garden was a little larger than the front, but less neatly turned out.

  There were no raised flowerbeds here, no manicured lawn. Just a shed, some stacks of planks, and a whisky cask the size of a caravan. It had roofing felt on top, and Logan had a vague recollection of seeing something similar before.

  “Is that a sauna?” he asked, as Sinead stepped out of the house behind him. The dog redoubled its efforts to be an annoying wee bastard.

  “Yes, sir.”

  “A sauna. In Fort William?” the DCI continued. He gestured at the smirr of fine rain falling from the dark grey clouds overhead. “Isn’t this, like, the wettest place in Europe?”

  “Three years running, sir,” Sinead replied, almost proudly. “We got a certificate.”

  “Well, I hope to Christ it was laminated,” Logan replied, pulling his coat closed. He sized the sauna up. “Is that normal?”

  “Well, I’ve not got one myself, sir. But it’s got a roof, so I don’t imagine the rain’s a big problem,” Sinead said. “Anyway, I think he makes them, or sells them, or something. He’s always advertising them on Facebook.”

  Down at their feet the dog upped its barking game from ‘bananas’ to ‘batshit’.

  “Hello! Yes, I see you. I see you!” Sinead said, baby-voicing the bloody thing. She squatted down, making the dog skitter back away from her, all its weight on its hind legs. “What’s all the noise about? Hmm? What’s all that noise for?”

  “Ignore it,” Logan told her.

  “Sorry, sir?”

  “If you ignore them, they eventually shut up,” he explained. “It’ll just keep going if you make a fuss.”

  Sinead held the back of her hand out to the dog. Meg sniffed it, then gave a tentative lick. Her tail wagged as Sinead stroked the top of her head.

  “There you go. That’s better. See? No need for all the noise.”

  She stood up, looking just a tiny bit smug.

  Logan raised an index finger. “Wait for it.”

  Meg erupted into barking again, and it was Logan’s turn to look pleased with himself. “See?” he said. “Told you. Ignore them. They get bored eventually.”

  The dog ushered them down the back path and continued to announce their departure as they pushed through the gate and into the alleyway that ran behind the block.

  “I’d never endorse cruelty to animals,” Logan said, headed for the next gate along. “But I’d happily strangle that bugger if it kept that up.”

  “Sounds quite cruel, sir,” Sinead pointed out.

  “I’d make it quick,” Logan told her. “Big hands.”

  He held up his hands to demonstrate that they were indeed big.

  Sinead smirked. “Should I be writing this down?”

  “Probably best not,” Logan told her.

  They stopped at the back gate of the neighbouring house. Unlike the Reids’ gate, this one and the surrounding fence were double-height, making it difficult to see much of the garden or the lower half of the building.

  The curtains upstairs were closed in one bedroom, but there were no lights in any of the windows.

  “Right. Next Door Ed, then,” Logan announced. “Thoughts?”

  Sinead’s eyes widened a little, caught off guard. “Uh… he’s got a big gate.”

  “He has got a big gate,” Logan confirmed. “I was hoping for something a bit more insightful and that wasn’t currently staring me in the face, but that’s a start.”

  He put a hand on the handle. It had a thumb-operated latch that clacked metallically when Logan pushed it down. The gate was a little too wide for the gap, and he had to give it a shove to budge it.

  Logan stopped then, the gate ajar. “What happened to your parents? If you don’t mind me asking?”

  “Road Traffic Accident, sir,” Sinead replied. The answer snapped out of her in an instant, like it had been pre-programmed. “Eighteen months ago.”

  She coughed gently. “Well, nineteen,” she corrected, and something about the way she said it told Logan she could’ve given it to him in hours and minutes.

  “Christ. I’m sorry. You should’ve said,” Logan told her. “So now it’s…”

  “Me and my wee brother, sir, aye,” Sinead confirmed.

  Logan exhaled through his nose, looked up at the house, then pulled the gate closed. “Let’s get you home. I’ll come back later.”

  Sinead frowned. “Are you joking, sir?”

  “What?”

  “Well… You think he might be in there, don’t you? Connor, I mean.” Sinead asked. “You jumped up off the couch as soon as they told us he’d asked about Ed. ”

  “Not necessarily…” Logan began, but it was clear from the way she looked at him that she wasn’t buying it.

  “That’s why you wanted to come in the back way, so the press didn’t see.”

  Logan chuckled drily. “Maybe I’m the one who should be taking notes.”

  He glanced up at the house again. “Do you know him? Ed, I mean.”

  Sinead shook her head. “No. Never met him.”

  “Right.” Logan pushed the gate open. “Stay close, follow my lead, and don’t do anything stupid.”

  “Should I radio it in?”

  “Remember that ‘don’t do anything stupid’ bit? That would qualify,” Logan told her. “We don’t want to put the wind up him. Not yet. It’s just a routine door to door at this stage.”

  “Won’t us
going to the back door make him suspicious?”

  “Trust me, if he’s kidnapped the boy, we’ll soon be the last of his back door’s worries.”

  It took Sinead a moment to understand what the DCI meant. “Oh. Prison?”

  “They’ve been known to be somewhat unwelcoming to certain categories of prisoner,” Logan confirmed. “Or overly welcoming, depending on your point of view.”

  He dropped his voice down low. “Now, mouth shut, ears open. Ready?”

  “Ready, sir.”

  “Well, you fell at the first hurdle on the whole ‘mouth shut’ thing, but we’ll let it slide this time.”

  Raising a hand, he knocked on the door. It was a classic policeman’s knock—loud, no-nonsense, and clearly announcing its intention not to go away until someone answered.

  When no-one did, Logan knocked again, even louder this time.

  He stepped back and looked up at the windows. The smirr of rain had been promoted to a drizzle, and he had to squint in order to see the top half of the house.

  There was a set of chrome-coloured blinds on the kitchen window, slanted at an angle that only let Logan see the ceiling when he tried to peer through.

  “Mr Walker? Can you come to the door, please?” he called.

  “Maybe he’s not in,” Sinead ventured, then she immediately realised this was the most obvious thing she could’ve said, and cursed herself inside her head.

  “We’ll make a detective of you yet,” Logan told her, absent-mindedly. The living room curtains were open, but the window itself was too high to see through.

  Logan found a cracked terracotta plantpot and turned it upside down below the window. It creaked ominously when he stood on it, but somehow managed to take his weight.

  “See anything?” Sinead asked.

  Logan wiped a layer of grime off the window with the sleeve of his coat. The room was dark inside, and barely resembled a room at all. It was more like a campsite, with the only furniture a folding camping chair, a little plastic table, and a pyramid of Tennent’s Lager cans, presumably all empty. He wasn’t sure that last one technically qualified as ‘furniture’ but it wasn’t the time to split hairs.

  A Pot Noodle sat on the table, a fork sticking up through the peeled-back foil lid. From his angle, Logan couldn’t tell if it was empty, full, or somewhere inbetween.