‘It was Haiden!’
Of course it was. ‘But we can’t prove that. And if we’ve no proof, we can’t arrest her.’
King’s bottom lip pinched like a five-year-old told he wasn’t allowed any more biscuits. ‘Could’ve arrested her on suspicion.’
Steel poked her head through, between the seats. ‘Pin your lugholes in the upright and locked position, Kingy: you — can’t — arrest — victims — of domestic — violence — for being — controlled — by their — abuser. Poor cow was terrified.’
‘I’m not telling you again! We wouldn’t be in this position if it wasn’t for you.’ He turned to Logan. ‘We get an SE team and we swab her house for DNA. That’ll prove Haiden was there.’
Surely a DI should be brighter than that?
Logan did his best not to sound as if he was explaining it to that biscuit-less five-year-old. ‘Her lawyer will claim contact cross-contamination from when she visited him in prison.’
‘Then fingerprints!’
‘He’s her boyfriend. He visited her before he went into prison.’
‘What, and they’re still there three years later? She hasn’t cleaned since then?’
‘Hoy!’ Steel poked him. ‘She’s a woman so she’s got to be a house-proud wee mouse, does she? Cleaning and polishing for some man?’
Logan scowled at Steel in the rear-view mirror. ‘You would be really wise to stop talking right now. You’re in enough trouble as it is.’ He reached out and clicked on the radio and some bland happy-clappy pop tune jingled out of the speakers. ‘Can we please sit in silence till we get back to the station?’
Steel thudded into her seat, face creased, arms folded. ‘Fine.’
King turned to face the passenger window. ‘Perfect.’
Logan just sighed.
A floor polisher made dubstep noises in the corridor outside DCI Hardie’s office.
Still no sign of the man himself. Probably dragging it out, leaving Logan and King to stew in the juice of their own failure and await the coming bollocking.
King brushed a clump of dried dirt from his trouser leg. The pale beige lump burst as it hit the carpet tiles, turning to dust. He picked at another bit, not looking at Logan. ‘What’s going to happen to her?’
Good question.
‘Disciplinary hearing. If she’s lucky, she’ll get off with a suspension. If not? Demotion, fine, maybe fired. If Professor Wilson dies, definitely fired. And maybe prosecuted.’
King nodded. Then scooted his chair closer to Logan’s, keeping his voice down. ‘Can’t you just... you know?’
Logan stared at him. ‘No. I can’t just “you know”.’ Honestly... ‘Doesn’t matter how much I want to: if I do it for her — if I bend the rules for friends — I’m compromised. Can’t be trusted. I undermine the whole system.’
Silence as King frowned at the rear of Hardie’s monitor. Then a sigh. ‘Yeah, you’re probably right. But—’
‘And why do you care all of a sudden? You’ve done nothing but moan about her since this started.’
‘I know, but—’
The office door banged open and DCI Hardie stormed into the room. Face: red and sweaty. Shirt: stained down the back and under the arms. Eyebrows: furrowed. Teeth: bared. ‘What the hell were you thinking?’
King sat up straight. ‘It wasn’t—’
‘Letting Haiden Lochhead get away! Have you any idea what the media are going to do to us when they find out? Pineapples! Great big sodding pineapples!’ He threw himself into his chair, the impact sending him and it trundling away, till they clunked into the wall. ‘The Chief Superintendent isn’t pleased. And when the man in charge of the whole bastarding division isn’t pleased, I am not pleased. Because he seems to think your screw-up counts as my screw-up!’ Spittle flying. ‘AND I DO NOT SCREW-UP!’ Glaring at them, eyes bulging in his flushed shiny face.
Logan cleared his throat. ‘Maybe we should all take a deep breath and—’
‘Don’t interrupt me when I’m bollocking you!’ Hardie slammed a hand down on the desk. ‘Of all the half-arsed, incompetent, piss-poor excuses for police officers; you should’ve waited for backup!’
King pulled his chin up. ‘With respect, Boss, we didn’t have a choice. We had to move in when we did. I was watching the front of Mhari Powell’s house when I saw Haiden Lochhead look out of the window and spot us. Ellon had pulled our patrol car off on another job, the OSU was an hour and a half away. If we’d waited, he’d have been long gone.’
You what?
Logan stared at him. Lying little sod. Well, lying big sod, but it was still a lie.
Hardie harrumphed, a bit of the fire fading from his cheeks. ‘He’s long gone now.’
‘Yes. But at least we tried.’ King nodded, agreeing with himself. ‘We couldn’t sit there and do nothing because we didn’t have backup. Would you?’
The fire died, letting the steam leak out of Hardie in a slow disappointed hiss. He sagged in his chair. Rubbed a hand across his eyes. ‘You’re right, you’re right. I’m sorry.’ A big sigh. ‘It’s not going to make tomorrow’s media briefing any easier, though. The press will spin it as a disaster and Edward Bloody Barwell will drop his bomb.’
King deflated too. ‘Then my career’s over anyway.’
Probably.
Hardie checked his watch, chewed on his lip for a bit. ‘It’s well past quitting time.’ He pointed at Logan. ‘Open the third drawer down, would you? “Historic Analysis of Traffic Offences 1985 to 1993”.’
OK. Not entirely sure what double parking and driving without due care and attention had to do with Professor Wilson and Haiden Lochhead, but probably best to play along in case Hardie was still flammable.
Logan rattled open the filing cabinet drawer. Instead of hanging files, there was a cardboard box, about the size of the ones printer paper came in. He lifted it out and stuck it on the desk.
Hardie opened it, pulling out three crystal tumblers and a decanter half-full of amber liquid. He poured a stiff measure into one of the glasses and handed it to King. Then did the same for Logan. ‘We’ll issue the statement at the start of the briefing: get Jane to put a hard positive spin on it. Play up how you almost caught Haiden Lochhead today.’ Hardie poured himself one and pointed it at King. ‘You got into a scuffle with Lochhead, right?’
‘Scuffle?’
‘The scrapes and dirt. You tackled him, but he escaped?’
King brushed away another clump of pale beige. ‘Went hammering around a corner, slipped on a pile of lawn clippings, and collided with someone’s fence. Then the ground. Think they’d been out with the hose earlier.’
Hardie’s face fell an inch. ‘Oh...’ He shrugged and raised his glass. ‘Jane will still be able to spin it. Slàinte mhath!’
King raised his. ‘Slàinte mhòr!’
Ah well, might as well join in.
Logan held his up too. ‘L’chaim.’
They clinked glasses, then King and Hardie took massive swigs while Logan barely sipped at his. A warm smoky wash of peat grabbed at his tongue, making the edges tingle and numb. Like drinking oak-aged Novocaine.
They both frowned at him. Probably wondering why he hadn’t scoofed half the glass, like they had.
‘Driving.’
Hardie shook his head. ‘Leave the car here. We’ll make a night of it. About time we did some team building!’
Yeah...