Snared (36 page)

Chapter One Hundred and Fifteen

V
icky started to feel again. The tarmac dug into her cheek. She managed to twitch her fingers again.

An engine roared behind her. She looked over. The Vectra shot out of the garage, tearing off the way she’d come. As it passed, she saw two heads in the front wearing balaclavas.

Smalls was kneeling on all fours, groaning.

Vicky got to her feet. “Are you okay?”

“Bugger got me with a spanner. You got off lucky. Bloody Taser.”

“Did you say Taser?”

“Aye.” Smalls sucked in breath. “Zapped you good and proper.”

“Did you see them?”

Smalls shook his head, one hand clutching his skull. “He had a balaclava on.”

“I’ll call an ambulance. I need to get after them.” Vicky set off down the hill, fumbling her phone out to call Forrester. “Sir, I’ve got a sighting of the car in Finlathen Park. Just by the entrance on Findale Street. It was in a lock-up. I need an ambulance there and support vehicles now. I’m going to give chase.”

“Vicky, can —”

She killed the call, dialling Considine as she sprinted away. Voicemail.

The path curved round to the left. The Vectra idled at the entrance, the engine revving. A figure wearing a balaclava was wrestling with the gates. He got back in and the car screeched off, heading right.

Vicky looked up to see Considine reversing his car back up the road to her. She got in, tugging the seatbelt on as Considine wrenched the car forward. “You should have just left me.”

“Arnold’s giving chase as well.” Considine tore down Findale Street, dodging amongst the parked cars. “Anyway, that’s a Vectra VXR, Sarge. Sheep in wolf’s clothing. The Python will
nail
it.”

“Thought this was just a car?”

“More than a car.” Considine took the corner tight, sending Vicky almost flying into the middle of the car.

A thud boomed from the left, just out of sight.

Vicky peered around. “What the hell was that?”

Considine put his foot down and the Subaru careered round the corner.

The Vectra sat at the end of the road, side on, steam coming from the bonnet. A panda car was wedged into its side, the siren blaring and lights flashing.

Considine screeched to a halt. “Holy shit.”

Two figures got out of the Vectra, wearing balaclavas. They started running along a lane at the back of the houses.

Vicky got out, letting her seatbelt fly free. “Come on.”

They gave chase down the lane, dodging a pool of broken glass. One of their prey was starting to lag behind.

The androgynous member of the gang.

Vicky got a good look as she closed the gap between them — while the figure was tall and muscular, it also clearly had curvy hips and small breasts. Definitely a woman.

Considine accelerated, gaining ground. He lurched forward, arms coming round in a rugby-tackle.

Just missed his target’s shoulder.

He reached out with his leading arm, catching her feet.

Vicky shoulder-barged into her, sending her to the ground. She leaned in hard, forcing the woman’s arm behind her back.

Vicky turned to Considine, already dusting himself off as he got to his feet, and pointed down the lane. “Get after the other one!”

“Right.” He shot off.

Vicky put a knee into her captive’s back, tugging her hands up behind. She pulled out handcuffs, slapped them round her captive’s wrists. “On your feet. Now.”

The woman got up, shoulders slouching.

Vicky kept one hand on the cuffs as she reached for the
balaclava
and pulled it off in one movement.

She concentrated on the woman’s face, struggling to place her. The woman stared at the ground.

The animal shelter. The expert in NME. The woman who preferred animals to people, who’d given Zoë the donor list.

Yvonne Welsh.

Chapter One Hundred and Sixteen

V
icky clasped her hands around a glass of Diet Coke, already empty, and looked out of the Old Mill Café window. Traffic was crawling up and down the Marketgait. The police station was starting to get the sun.

She clenched her jaw. Had she hung Robert out to dry?

“Hey.” MacDonald hung his jacket on the back of the chair and sat down, clunking his coffee down on the table. “She’s getting processed now. We’ll get in there soon.”

“I can’t believe it’s her. She just works round the corner from here.”

“I know.”

“Considine and I spoke to her last week.” Vicky shook her head. “I’m going to get such a doing over this.”

MacDonald flicked up his fingers. “Nobody’s blaming you. We were all in the dark on this.”

Vicky sighed. He was probably right. “Maybe.”

MacDonald took a sip of coffee. “Other one ran off. Got three units out looking for him. Looks like he’s gone to ground
somewhere
.”

“You think it’s a man?”

“Maybe.”

“What about the two uniforms in the squad car?”

“Just got the all-clear.” MacDonald tore open a sachet of brown sugar, tipped it into his coffee. “Uniform are bringing in Alison McFarlane.”

Vicky nodded. “Yvonne’s boss.”

“Aye. And alibi.”

“Think she’s involved?”

“Maybe. Maybe not.” MacDonald sipped at his drink, grimacing at the taste. “Can I get you something else? More Diet Coke?”

Vicky stared at the glass. The ice was melting and turning brown. “I think I need something stronger.”

“Bacardi?”

“No, like a coffee.”

“Want me to get you one?”

“I’m fine just now. I can’t decide whether I want tea or coffee.”

MacDonald smiled. “Definitely a Taser they got you with?”

“I think so. Have you ever been electrocuted, Euan?”

“Not something I plan on making a habit of.” MacDonald laughed. “Have you?”

“Aye. I used to help Dad do his DIY. Once, when we were putting a floor in the attic, I accidentally stuck a screwdriver on a live wire. Threw me clean across the room.” She tugged at her ponytail, stroking it. “It felt exactly like that. My muscles just turned to jelly. There was nothing I could do.”

“Jesus. Least it wasn’t a gun, I suppose.”

Vicky put both hands around the can, still cool. “How did they know we’d be there? Surely it would’ve been easier to shift it before we turned up.”

“Thought it might be bad luck.” MacDonald showed her a photo on his mobile, a black box with a red display. “SOCOs found this on the back seat alongside a disposable mobile phone.”

“What is it?”

“Our Tetra Scanner.”

“You’re kidding.”

“Nope. Think they heard the call over the Airwave system saying we’d found the car. Must’ve panicked and headed out there. Problem is, you got there just after them.”

“Christ.”

“Bloody network’s supposed to be secure.” MacDonald shook his head. “Wouldn’t happen to have a brother called Andrew, would you?”

Vicky nodded. “Why?”

“Coming to look at it.”

Vicky nodded. “Is someone tracking down whoever rents
that unit?”

“Considine, aye. Guy from the council, Smalls? Seemed a bit cagey about it as he got taken off to hospital.” He blew on his coffee. “Got it a lot worse than you, believe me.”

Vicky stared at his cup, deciding she wanted a coffee after all.

MacDonald took a big drink. “Struggling to get anyone else to help us at the council.”

Vicky nodded. “They work at Dudhope Castle, right?”

“Right. Kirk’s up there trying to find someone.”

Vicky avoided his eyes for a few seconds. “What happened last night, Euan?”

MacDonald rubbed his face. “You tell me?”

“You kissed me.”

“You kissed me back, Vicky.”

“Then I got a taxi.”

MacDonald gazed down at the table, prodding at some grains of sugar. “What would’ve happened if those guys hadn’t started cheering?”

Vicky stared into her glass. “I don’t know.” She leaned back in her chair, tossing her ponytail back. “What do you think, Euan?”

“Was away to ask if you wanted to come back to my flat.”

“Why didn’t you?”

He shrugged. “You ran off.”

“I do that.” She shook the glass, swirling the last of the ice cubes around. “You need to know something about me, Euan. I’ve got a daughter.”

MacDonald frowned. “A daughter?”

“Her name’s Bella. She’s four.”

MacDonald glanced at her fingers. “You don’t wear a ring.”

“I’m not married.”

“Where’s her father?”

“He lives in Edinburgh.” Vicky looked away. The nerve in her neck started up again. “We’re not together. Never were, really.”

“Okay.”

“Euan, you need to be okay with her if we’re to get into
anything
.”

He nodded. “Quite a lot to take in, you know?”

“I know.”

MacDonald finished his coffee and checked his watch. “Come on, let’s see what Yvonne Welsh has got to say for herself.”

Vicky swallowed down mucus, her throat tight. “I’ll be a
minute
.”

“No problem.” He got up and left her sitting there.

Vicky watched him walk across the road towards the station. She got up and walked over to the counter. She looked up at the board above the coffee machine, a sprawling list of drinks she’d never had to look at before. Mocha, latte, Americano? She smiled at the barista. “Can I have an English Breakfast tea, please?”

Chapter One Hundred and Seventeen

Y
vonne Welsh sat hunched over the interview room table,
rocking
back and forth, eyes shut.

Vicky stared at the recorders. The tapes hissed as they wound round. Which of the three was Yvonne? She could be the woman, of course, but she could also pass for the androgynous third member. She was tall and didn’t have a particularly large chest, though the hips were a giveaway.

Vicky glanced at MacDonald before leaning across the tab
le t
o her, trying to make eye contact. Failing. “Ms Welsh, you need t
o speak t
o us.”

Yvonne kept her eyes shut.

“Do you prefer Yvonne?”

She shrugged.

“Yvonne, you’re in a lot of trouble. You do realise that, don’t you?”

No reaction.

Vicky looked at her lawyer, Kelly Nelson-Caird. She wrote long, elliptical paragraphs on a yellow notepad.

Vicky cleared her throat. “Yvonne, a child’s out there. Calum Urquhart. You’ve abducted him. Whatever grievances you’ve got against his father, does Calum deserve what you’re doing to him?”

Yvonne screwed her eyes tighter and began to rock slowly.

Vicky licked her lips. “Yvonne, we’ve caught you red-handed. The car you were driving was spotted at the other crime scenes. We’ve spoken to two of your victims and they’ve confirmed it was a Vauxhall Vectra VXR.”

Yvonne clenched her fists. “I wasn’t driving.”

“Who was?”

Yvonne clenched her jaw.

“Yvonne, who was with you?”

“No comment.”

“Yvonne, whoever you’re protecting, it’s doing you no favours.”

“No comment.”

“Yvonne, things are escalating.” Vicky left a pause. It wasn’t filled. “I don’t think you wanted to get into this, did you?”

Yvonne glanced at Nelson-Caird.

“It started out as fun, didn’t it, Yvonne?”

No reply.

“It’s gone way beyond that now. We’re investigating a murder. Do you really want to face those charges alone?”

Nothing.

“Yvonne, were you working with Marianne Smith?”

She looked up. “Who?”

“Marianne Smith.”

She looked away. “I don’t know who that is.”

“On top of the murder, there are kidnapping and abduction charges. On top of those, there are terrorism charges. You’ll face them alone. If you’re not leading this, it might be a lot to take on your shoulders.”

Yvonne stared up at the ceiling. “What’re you saying?”

“Are you the one behind all this?”

Yvonne shrugged. “No, I’m not.”

“I didn’t think so.” Vicky looked at MacDonald.

He sat upright. “Yvonne, it’s possible we could be lenient with you.
If
you give us whoever’s behind this.”

Nelson-Caird whispered in Yvonne’s ear.

Yvonne sat for a few seconds before shaking her head.

“My client isn’t prepared to listen to any offer.”

MacDonald rolled his eyes. “Really?”

“I’m afraid so.”

MacDonald got to his feet and left the room, the door clattering as he slammed it.

Vicky leaned over. “Interview terminated at twelve oh seven.” She hit the stop button on both recorders almost simultaneously. She shook her head, eyes on Yvonne. “You really are up to your neck in this.”

Chapter One Hundred and Eighteen

F
orrester crunched down on his office chair, sticking his feet on his desk. Dark purple rings looped around his eyes. “She’ll swing for this, I swear.”

Vicky crossed her legs, noticed a ladder in her tights. “I don’t see her co-operating, sir.”

“Maybe. Mac, what do you think?”

MacDonald shrugged. “Certainly seems to be deep in this. Just not sure she’s the ringleader.”

“What’ve we got on her?”

“Good news.” MacDonald flicked through his notebook. “DNA from Hunter’s Farm matches against her.”

Forrester grinned. “So that confirms she’s involved.”

MacDonald nodded. “Throw the book at her, sir.”

“What about Smith?”

Vicky shrugged. “What about her?”

“Do you think she’s involved?”

“I don’t know.”

“Is it worth getting the pair of them in a room together?”

MacDonald shook his head. “Terror organisations make sure they never meet. If they do, they’ll have been trained to ignore eac
h other.”

“Have we looked into any links between them?”

“DCs investigating it just now, sir. Good to have them back from Greig.”

“Aye.” Forrester chuckled. “Poor guy’s been dragged over half of Dundee and not found a single thing. That Camperdown Park attack never happened. They’ve been up the Law and out to the Ferry. All they’ve got is a sighting of a van dropping a letter off last night. That’s it. Don’t even know if it’s our letter.”

Vicky stared into space for a moment, then noticed
MacDonald’s
eyes on her legs. She uncrossed them. “What do you want to do, sir?”

Forrester got to his feet. “Let’s see what the DCs have got linking the pair of them.” He led them into the office space. Only Zoë and Considine were there. “Where are your colleagues,
Constable
?”

Considine shrugged. “Out speaking to people I think, sir.”

Forrester rubbed at his stubble. “What’re you working on?”

“Still trying to find out who’s renting the lock-up, sir.”

“Keep on that.”

“Will do.” Considine nodded at Vicky. “Sarge, there’s an Alison McFarlane downstairs. Do you want me with you?”

Forrester patted his arm. “Don’t worry, Constable. I’ll take the interview with Vicky. You’ve got some important work to do.”

Considine beamed at him. “Thank you, sir.”

“Mac, can you get me an update from the others?”

“Will do.”

“Come on, Vicky.” Forrester set off towards the door, then glanced back at Considine. “You’re doing a decent job with him.”

“Thanks, sir.”

“Still a sleekit wee bugger, though.” Forrester shook his head. “I’ve also got him leading the interview with the idiot who posted those videos of Kyle Ramsay punching his birds.”

“Think they’re involved?”

“Probably not, but it makes him feel important.”