Salgado got out of the chair and kicked it across the room again.
‘We catch this guy. Nothing else to be done here. We catch this fuck.’
CHAPTER 19
Narey was at her desk, chasing wild geese through the internet. She’d been wading through both the Criminal History System and the Police National Computer for over an hour in the vain hope of stumbling over something that she could work with on the Eloise Gray case. She might have called it looking for a needle in a haystack, but she couldn’t even be sure it was a needle she was looking for.
The landline rang, an internal call. She ignored it and continued to scroll through the database looking for something, anything that might give her an in. The caller refused to give up and Narey had to relent. She regretted her lack of urgency two seconds after she recognised Detective Superintendent McTeer’s voice. This was all she bloody needed.
‘DI Narey. I can only assume you were a long way from the phone. Can you report to my office, please? Now, if you could.’
‘Sir, can I ask—’
‘No. And I said, now.’
This was becoming a well-trodden path and she wasn’t liking it much. She found herself wondering if someone was monitoring her searches on the CHS and the PNC. If McTeer had somehow got wind of the fact that she was doubting that Tam Harkness was guilty, then she might be facing a bollocking for pretty much the opposite of her last visit. Someone had to make their mind up round here.
She knocked on his door and, after a brief pause, he shouted for her to enter. The super was on the phone, his head resting on his hand, and saying ‘uh huh’ a lot. His face was not a happy one. ‘Okay, okay. Leave that with me. Yes, I’ll get back to you.’ He hung up the phone. ‘Or maybe I won’t. You ever get one of those days when you wish you were still walking the streets in the pishing rain?’
‘All the time, sir.’
‘Yeah, me too. Okay, so what’s the latest with your man Harkness? You still trusting your instinct?’
Damn it. She really hoped it wasn’t Rico Giannandrea that had said anything. She wasn’t ready to explain any of this until she got her hands on something resembling evidence. If it had been Rico, she’d throttle him.
‘It’s not just instinct, sir. It’s . . . experience. I’ve seen people react the way Harkness did, and I don’t believe he was faking it. Look, I know this goes against everything I’d said before, but I need more time to try to get a handle on this.’
McTeer looked confused and she realised he’d had no idea she was doubting the man’s guilt.
‘Are we talking at cross purposes here, Rachel? I’m not sure that I want to know.’
‘I’m not sure I want you to know either,’ she conceded. ‘Maybe we should start again. Shall I go back out and knock?’
‘That won’t be necessary, Rachel. Sit down, please.’
She settled herself in the seat opposite McTeer’s desk, only now picking up on the look of consternation on his face. She sensed a worry from him that she didn’t much like. He was building up to something and she felt a familiar rush of adrenalin that she didn’t know was good or bad.
‘We’ve had a call from the United States, from the LAPD. They—’
‘Sir? This is about Eloise Gray?’
McTeer lifted his head from the printouts in his hand just long enough to look at her admonishingly over his spectacles. She stayed silent.
‘It’s an odd one, to say the least. They were called to what seems to have been a non-suspicious death; a man named Ethan Garland had a massive heart attack. However, there were items in the house that raised suspicion. They searched the premises and found body parts seemingly held as trophies. The evidence suggests this Garland was a serial killer and they just stumbled across him.’
He held a hand up without taking his eyes off the sheet, shutting off the questions he knew she was burning to ask.
‘Their IT people went to work on his computer and among the few things they were able to dig out was a file of names with potted biographies. Age, job, physical descriptions, hobbies, things like that. They ran them against mispers and anyone with a record, but they got nothing. It was as if these people didn’t exist. And yes, I know you’re bursting to ask what this has got to do with us and are wishing I’d get to the point. So, it’s this. Garland had done internet searches for places in Glasgow, so one of the LA detectives got in touch and ran the list of names they had past us.’
He paused just long enough that she couldn’t help but fill the gap.
‘And?’
‘And –’ McTeer took a breath – ‘one of the biographies on the list was a divorced father of one. A six-foot, fair-haired primary school teacher who loved hill-climbing, old movies, cooking and dogs. His name was—’
‘No way.’
‘Yes, I’m afraid so. His name was Jamie Stark. It’s either a very odd coincidence or he’s the one we’ve been calling our Mr Kipper.’
Narey could only stare back at him as she tried to make sense of it. ‘How the hell is that even possible?’
McTeer tossed the printout across the desk so that the clipped papers landed in front of her, sat back in his chair and slipped his reading glasses from his head. ‘Rachel, I have no bloody idea. But it gets worse. Or at least stranger. Read the other names on the list.’
She snatched it from the table and skimmed through the names. Seconds later, she lowered the paper and looked up at him, her mouth open.
CHAPTER 20
Narey and Giannandrea were in a media suite inside HQ at Dalmarnock, sitting in front of a large screen waiting for Los Angeles to wake up. The eight-hour time difference was proving hugely frustrating but at least it had allowed them to do some work on the list that McTeer had provided. The fruits of that work had only made the time crawl slower as they became desperate for the Americans to get to their desks.
‘So, what’s the time over there now? Surely the lazy bastards are at work by this time?’ DCI Derek Addison was in attendance on the orders of McTeer and making no pretence of hiding the fact he was none too happy about it.
Giannandrea checked his watch. ‘It’s five to six in the morning Pacific Time.’
‘Which is five minutes later than the last time you asked, sir,’ Narey added wearily. Addison had been a pain in the rear since the moment he joined them.
‘Specific Time? Of course I wanted the specific time. And less of your cheek, DI Narey. You’re not running the team yet.’
‘Oh, give us—’
‘Wait a minute.’ Giannandrea broke up the sparring. ‘Looks like we’re on.’
The icon next to the LAPD connection had turned green. They were good to go.
‘About bloody time,’ Addison moaned.
Giannandrea made the call and it was accepted instantly. The link buffered for a few moments, showing just two slightly blurry figures on the screen, until it settled, and they saw two cops looking at two cops looking at two cops.
The male was in his early thirties, tanned and handsome in a sharp suit. She was pale and pretty with long red hair, looking as Irish as sweet Molly Malone, and she made the introductions.