you never think about going back to Lyon? I know what happened to you there was bad, but time has passed. You could rejoin Interpol, your name has been cleared. You can’t tell me you haven’t thought about it,’ Ava said, turning around to stare back up the lane at the lights and the parade of white-clad personnel walking methodically to and fro.
‘You never clear your name after a rape allegation,’ Luc said. ‘It’s like trying to get ink out of a white shirt. I’m settled here now. I wouldn’t go so far as to say that Scotland feels like home, but I’m comfortable. If we could just replace all of Edinburgh’s fast food joints with delicatessens it would be better.’
‘You’re never going to forgive us for our food, are you?’
‘If you expect me to accept atrocities such as haggis, porridge, and what I believe you call mince and tatties, then no.’ Callanach’s French accent accentuated the words as if they were exotic foreign diseases.
Ava smiled. ‘This route becomes more track than road as it goes past the two reservoirs, but it’s stony. The one time I wish the ground was soft, and we’ve had virtually no rain for a week. You’re right. No fresh tyre marks. The vehicle will have her blood in it, though. We have to find the person who did this, and quickly, before they have a chance to destroy the evidence.’
‘Which is what they’ll be doing right now,’ Callanach said. ‘Let’s get back to the station. I’ll brief the squad while you sort out the resources we’ll need.’ His phone rang as they were turning around to go back. ‘Yes, that’s right. Get hold of next of kin. Ask for a photo first. We can’t have anyone seeing this body if we’re wrong about the identity. Thanks.’ He rang off. ‘A young woman was reported missing last Sunday who fits the general description. DC Tripp is chasing an up-to-date photo.’
‘I didn’t hear about that. Any reason why the missing person report wasn’t widely circulated?’ Ava asked.
‘She was living in a domestic abuse shelter. Women come and go quite regularly. I guess sometimes they just get sick of the lack of privacy, or go back to their previous situations, and many don’t want to be found. Police at the time took a statement from the shelter but there was no evidence of foul play, so they haven’t done much about it since.’
‘Did you get a name?’ Ava asked.
‘Zoey Cole. Eighteen years old. Caucasian, brown hair, hazel eyes. Sounds like our girl.’
‘It does,’ Ava said, picking up the pace as they walked. ‘The question is, how did she come to be living in a women’s shelter in the first place? Maybe whoever made Zoey scared enough to move there might have found out where she was and decided to pay her a visit.’
‘I’d be surprised if this stems from domestic violence. It would be the most extreme evolution of offending I’ve ever seen,’ Callanach said.
‘People can suddenly erupt and reveal a completely hidden side to their nature. You only went on one date with Astrid and look what happened at the end of that. She was sufficiently fixated to accuse you of rape and to hurt herself dramatically to back it up. Can you imagine how much more obsessed and deranged she’d have been if you were in a relationship with her for six months, or two years? Human beings don’t have any limits when they’re broken. It’s the damage you can’t see on the surface that’s the most dangerous.’
The Major Investigation Team’s incident room was empty. Detective Constable Christie Salter stood in the doorway, coffee cup in one hand, box of doughnuts in the other. One step forward would take her back into a world she’d left months earlier, when a hostage situation had gone terribly wrong and she’d been stabbed in the abdomen with a shard of broken pottery. Salter had lost her baby. Her sanity, too, for a short time, if she was completely honest. Coming back to work hadn’t been a choice. If she’d spent one more minute at home, staring at the wallpaper and flicking through the TV channels, the damage to her mental health might have slid up the scale from temporary to irreparable.
‘I hope they’re all for me. I’m not sharing my trans fats with the rest of the greedy bastards when they get back,’ DS Lively said behind her.
Salter smiled at the blank room she’d been facing, then made the effort to straighten her face before turning around.
‘Sarge, you’re such a lardy bugger anyway, I’m sure eating another twenty chocolate-iced custard-filled cakes won’t make a dent. Knock yourself out.’ She offered the box in his direction.
‘Glad to see your wee holiday hasn’t blunted your tongue. You recall that as your sergeant, you still have to make me coffee and shine my boots every morning,’ Lively said, grabbing a week’s worth of calories and taking a bite.
‘The way I heard it, Max Tripp has taken his sergeant’s exams and is waiting for the results. I’m guessing it’s him I’ll be making coffee for pretty soon. I’m sure you’ll still have plenty of your usual goons willing to fetch and carry for you,’ Salter grinned. ‘Speaking of which, where are they all?’
‘Got a call to a body found on the Torduff Road. They’ll not be back for a few hours yet. Starting house to house enquiries, about now I reckon. DCI Turner and the underwear model I get to call sir are both down there,’ Lively said, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.
‘You and DI Callanach still sharing the love, are you? I thought you might have got over your infatuation by now. Maybe I should get down there. If they’re kicking off a new murder investigation, they’ll need every pair of hands they can get.’
‘I think they’ll need backup here. You know how it gets. The phone’ll start ringing off the hook with leads and enquiries. Pretty soon the whole place will be chaos. They’ve plenty of officers down there for now,’ Lively said.
‘That’s ridiculous. We can get any number of people in here to answer the phones. I’ll take a car from the pool. Traffic’s not too bad this morning. It’ll only take me …’
‘Christie,’ Lively said. ‘It’s a bad one. Young woman with her stomach messed up. I really don’t think …’
‘Stop,’ Salter said. ‘You’ll call me Salter, just like you always did. And we don’t talk about what happened. If I wanted to do that I’d have stayed at home with my family popping round twice a day to check on me. This is work. I need it. So don’t patronise me and don’t try to wrap me up. It’s too late for that.’
The phone rang, sparing Lively a response. He picked up a pen and began scribbling details on a notepad, muttering a stream of affirmatives as he wrote.
‘Give us ten minutes,’ he said, before putting the receiver down. ‘Get your coat then, Salter. We’re off into town.’
Crichton’s Close provided pedestrian access onto the Royal Mile and was a regular night stop for the homeless, courtesy of high walls at either side stopping the wind, and providing some shelter from the rain. As a no through route for traffic, it had the added bonus of excluding passing police vehicles. Only the drunks or unwitting tourists passed that way in the small hours. Unless you were looking for trouble. Lively and Salter took the car up Gentle’s Entry and parked it in Bakehouse Close, walking the few metres round the corner to where uniformed police officers and paramedics were doing
