Dundee Crime Series: Books 1 - 3 Box Set

by Chris Longmuir

Genres: Police Procedurals; Traditional Mysteries; Noir; British Thrillers; Crime Fiction; Suspense; spies; psychological thriller; books set in Scotland; Scottish crime fiction; Tartan Noir; saboteurs; stalkers; killers

Synopsis

Three Scottish suspense thrillers featuring Dundee detective, DS Bill Murphy.

Night Watcher: Obsession and death! Two stalkers, one target, and a woman seeking revenge! Can DS Bill Murphy catch the killer before he strikes again?

Dead Wood: A mystery and detective story. A combination of police procedural and woman in jeopardy. (Dundee International Book Prize winner 2009)

Missing Believed Dead: Missing children! Internet predators! Dead bodies! Is Jade alive or dead? Or has she returned to wreak a terrible vengeance?

Three books that will have you looking over your shoulder, and keep you off your sleep.

Release date: June 3, 2015

Publisher: Barker & Jansen

Print pages: 862

Sample

PART ONE

July to September 2008

Chapter 1

Mist shrouded everything except for the Discovery’s skeletal masts pointing long bony fingers into the sky. It was an omen. He had come to the right place.

There had been so many places since he had last been in Dundee, but he doubted anyone here would connect him with the skinny little lad ejected forcibly from his birthplace, and sent to a borstal far away. They were no longer known as borstals though, secure accommodation, that’s what they called them nowadays. As if the name made any difference. They were still the same brutal lockups they had always been.

Smiling grimly, he pulled his collar up and the brim of his hat forward until only his eyes showed. He turned his back on the glass frontage of the station and shuffled in the direction of the pedestrian bridge.

It was not there. Confused, he stopped and stared. Everything had changed. He did not like change, it unsettled, immobilized him. He turned in a slow circle. The Discovery was behind him, its masts now barely visible. Hazy lights from Tayside House’s tower building pierced the mist, over to his right, and in front of him the dual carriageway – but no pedestrian bridge.

He sent a silent plea to the voice asking him what he should do. But the voice had been silent for some time now, demonstrating its disapproval, because he had acted on his own initiative before he left Newcastle.

The voice had not told him to end the social worker’s life, nor had it instructed him to set fire to her office. But at the time he had been thinking clearly and, knowing he had to vanish, it had seemed sensible to leave no clues to where he had gone.

A cluster of people waited at the edge of the road and, although he did not like crowds, he followed them across both carriageways when the lights changed.

He was in familiar territory now, and his panic subsided as he started to walk up Union Street towards the familiar City Churches at the top.

A faint smell of smoke accompanied the grubby piece of paper and the bottle of pills as he pulled them out of his pocket. On the paper was written the directions to the hostel and all the instructions he needed to start the job the social worker had organized for him. Dumping the pills in the gutter, because he did not need them anymore, he followed the directions on the paper.

The hostel was no different from any other hostel; a grey, unwelcoming building, full of strange noises, strange smells, and even stranger people. He never felt safe in these places but it would have to do until he found something that suited him better.

That had been six months ago; six months of rest and regeneration, since the completion of his last mission in Newcastle. After it was completed the voice had told him to return to his roots in Dundee, but ever since then, the voice had remained silent. Despite this, his faith never wavered. He was convinced there must be a reason why the voice had guided him to this place.

Over the last week, he had been aware of his increasing restlessness. He was nervy and jumpy, forever fidgeting, unable to remain at peace for more than a few minutes at a time. This was a sure sign that the time was almost here.

As the days passed a fever engulfed him; his body burned and his skin itched. Insects burrowed below his flesh, eating him from the inside. Only one thing could quieten them and that was the completion of his next mission.

But though he continued to wait for instructions, the voice did not speak to him.

The waiting was more than he could bear and in desperation he followed several women, searching for the evil within them. But it soon became obvious to him they were not evil, only silly or misguided.

Then he found this one. She was not silly or misguided. Nor was there any other excuse for the bad things she did. But still, he doubted, for although he had followed her every day for the past week and hoped she would be the one, the voice was silent.

Tonight, after leaving the department store from the back entrance in the alley, she walked confidently towards the street, unaware she was being watched.

He waited until she reached the street, then rose from the depths of his secret hiding place and followed her.

When she arrived home her house was empty. No husband waiting tonight. But the voice was silent and had not yet confirmed that she was the chosen one, and without the voice, he could not act.

He followed her again when she left the house later that evening. He watched as she visited the man. He heard the argument and saw the despair in the man’s face when she left. And he was there at the end – at the killing time.

And he knew that if it were not for the woman, the man would not be dead.

Surely now the voice would come. It could not fail to see that this woman was evil through and through.

‘Where are you? Where are you?’ The question echoed through his brain although no sound issued from his lips. He did not need to speak aloud for the voice to hear him, for it was tuned into his thoughts.

As if in answer to his plea the voice responded. ‘The evil that women do cannot be allowed to continue.’ It roared through his head so loudly he had to clamp his hands over his ears.

When the voice quietened and started whispering to him, that was when he knew he had been right to think this woman was the chosen one. And now his mission was clear to him. He had to watch her and prevent her from doing further evil.

He slunk off into the darkness, back to his hiding place. It was time to plan what form his mission would take.

 

Chapter 2

‘It’s over. Finished. Can’t you get that through your head?’ Nicole’s hand was on the doorknob.

‘No!’ Dave lunged towards the door preventing her from leaving. ‘It can’t be. We love each other.’ His voice faltered.

Nicole looked up at him and laughed. ‘Love,’ she said. ‘No it was never that. Attraction maybe, lust certainly. But never love.’

He reached for her, entwining his fingers in her blonde hair. ‘But I gave up everything for you.’ He fought the tears pricking behind his eyes. Men didn’t cry.

‘Then you’re a bigger fool than I took you for.’ Nicole shook his hand off and glared at him through icy blue eyes. ‘But you said you loved me. You said if I promised to divorce my wife, you’d divorce Scott and marry me.’

‘Words, words.’ Nicole laughed harshly.

His eyes filled with tears, and he ran his fingers through his short brown hair. ‘You knew I’d phoned her to say I was coming home to talk things over.’

‘That’s your problem, now get out of my way, and go back to your wife. At least she wants you.’

For a moment Dave wanted to put his hands round her lovely white neck and squeeze. But damn-it-all, he still loved her. ‘I can’t live without you, Nicole.’ He despised himself for having to plead.

‘Tough,’ she said, pushing him aside.

Despair flooded through him and he stood away from the door. ‘I won’t be responsible for my actions if you leave.’

‘You do whatever you have to do.’ Nicole hesitated in the doorway before stepping through it into the darkness of the corridor. ‘But I’m going and I’m not coming back.’

He followed her. ‘Don’t go,’ he said, catching the entry door before it swung shut, but she was already running up the street to her car. He watched until she was out of sight. Then, swearing loudly, he kicked the door shut and thumped the corridor wall with his fist. An upstairs door opened sending a sliver of light through the gloom of the landing. ‘Nosy sod,’ he shouted and the door closed.

He massaged his hand as he entered his own flat. It seemed empty without her. Picking up the framed photograph, he caressed the face with his fingers. But even her laughing image seemed to be mocking him and he laid it face down on the table. His fingers lingered on it for a moment, wanting to turn it over again, but he could not bear to see the mockery in her eyes. Anger surged through him, his fingers tightened on the frame and he threw the picture across the room. It hit the wall and boomeranged back to him, coming to rest at his feet. He ground his foot on top of it, and then covered his face with his hands. Life hardly seemed to be worth living without her.

The sound of the doorbell woke him out of his misery. No one ever came here except her. She must have returned.

‘I knew you’d come back,’ he said, opening the door and stepping out into the corridor.

The door at the end was open, although he was sure he had closed it when he came back. A faint light from the street filtered in, but the hallway was empty. The stairs at the other end of the corridor were shrouded in darkness. There was no movement or sound from them, so he knew it had not been one of his upstairs neighbours who had rung his doorbell or left the outside door open. It must have been Nicole with one of her unpredictable changes of mind. His heart lightened. She had come back but had not stayed. That meant there was hope for him and their relationship, for he knew she was like a bird beating its wings in a headwind, blowing this way and that, ruled by the turbulence of her emotions.

He ran down the corridor to the front door. If he could catch her he would persuade her to stay. But there was no Nicole and her car had gone.

His shoulders slumped and the weight on his heart returned.

Tears blinded his eyes so he did not see one of the shadows on the stairs detach itself and move towards him.

And he did not expect the ligature round his neck as he turned to enter his room.

****

The sound of Dave’s voice echoed behind Nicole as she ran up the street. Even when she tumbled into her car she imagined she could still hear him shouting, and entreating her to return. The car roared into life, and with an ear-splitting screech of tyres, she drove off, even though the temptation to turn back, to tell him it was all a big mistake, was overwhelming.

Tears trickled down her face as she drove. She had not meant to get so involved with Dave. It had just been a bit of fun – just another one of her affairs. But he had not seen it that way, and she had been drawn into a relationship that frightened her with its intensity.

She had tried to end it gently, without causing him hurt. That was the way she usually ended her affairs. But he was having none of it, and eventually, she had come to realize that she would have to be brutal. However, what she had not banked on was this feeling of something having been ripped out of her.

It was too dangerous to continue though. It had to end. Scott was not a fool and sooner or later he would have become suspicious.

She had been with Scott since she was fifteen, and she could not imagine life without him. He was overbearing, opinionated, and he often made her feel worthless and like a child again. She should have been happy with him, but there was a void, an ache that constantly needed to be filled, and she did that through casual affairs with other men. It boosted her self-confidence – made her feel needed.

Maybe if they’d had children she would not have this urge. But Scott had taken care of that, forcing her to have an abortion when she was fifteen.

‘You must have it,’ he had said, ‘or it’s prison for me.’ It was the after effects of the abortion that ensured she would never have a child.

Nicole turned into the gate and drove up to the house. It was in darkness. Scott was not home yet. She was grateful for that because she was sure her mascara must be streaked and her eyes swollen.

Entering the house through the kitchen door, she kicked off her stiletto-heeled shoes and eased her cramped toes on to the coolness of the tiles.

She crossed to the sink and splashed cold water over her face, before pouring some into a glass and gulping it down. Leaning against the sink for a moment, she stared uneasily into the darkness outside. Then, shivering, she left the glass in the sink, padded out of the kitchen and through to her bedroom.

It only took a moment to shrug off her clothes, but she paused before releasing her breasts from the too tight bra. They were large, firm and shapely, but she was unable to see that because Scott always mocked them.

‘You’re like a Jordan look-a-like,’ he often said in a tone of disgust, although she was sure she was not as well endowed as Katie Price. And when he was being particularly cruel, he would compare them to the udders of a cow.

She jumped into bed and pulled the duvet over her head, unsure whether she was crying because of Scott’s dissatisfaction with her body, or because she had lost Dave.

****

It was much later before Scott returned home, and it pleased him to see Nicole’s blue, Porsche Boxster, tucked up safely in the garage. She was at home, where she should be.

A smile flickered at the corners of his mouth as he walked silently to the bedroom. He stood for a moment considering whether to wake her but decided against it. He really was not in the mood for sex tonight and would rather savour the successes of the evening.

Raising a hand to the back of his neck he tugged at the elastic ponytail holder and shook his hair loose. It swirled around his head before settling, in dark-brown waves on his shoulders, hiding the diamond stud in his left ear.

He was an attractive man, and he knew it. His chin jutted out more than most men’s, but that did not displease him because he thought it made him look masculine. If there was any fault with his features it was his nose which was slightly off-centre, making his face look a bit less than symmetrical.

He undressed, and walked over to the window, staring out at the darkness and the vague reflection of his body. At least it was still firm and muscled, like the body of a younger man. Not like Nicole, who was running to flab and needed to diet.

Making a moue of distaste he crossed to the bed, slipped under the duvet and, turning his back on Nicole, closed his eyes. He fell asleep still smiling and thinking about everything that had happened earlier.

 

DEAD WOOD

CHAPTER 1

Last night, when the dark was at its blackest, something had nipped at her fingers. She’d wiggled them and it had moved away, slithering into the unknown, no doubt waiting for another opportunity.

It was day now. She could tell because the dark had lightened to a greyish gloom.

Her head felt woozy, like it did when she’d had too much vodka. Her eyes were playing tricks on her. She fixed her gaze on the leafy canopy overhead. The branches swayed and rustled, bending towards her, clutching and reaching to pull her into their embrace.

At first she’d thought he would come back, that this was just some kinky game he was playing. But this was no game.

Left alone, tied to the tree, it hadn’t been long before the glacial cold air had bitten into the core of her. Violent shivers consumed her body but there was nothing she could do to stop them. She closed her eyes, hoping for release from the icy pain. Then, during the night, she thought she’d been back in City Square celebrating the New Year. The bells had been ringing, the crowds singing and bottles shared. Now it was day and she was feeling warmer.

She desperately needed to sleep but fought against it. She struggled, pulling and pushing her wrists in a vain attempt to break free. But it was hopeless. Each time she moved her arms the bonds seared into her flesh, and pain jolted up her arms. Her shoulders, savagely pulled into a backwards embrace of the tree, throbbed. Her mouth itched under the sticky tape. Her feet were free, but it made no difference to her predicament. She could stand up, sliding her arms up the back of the tree, and sit down again – if she could bear the agony of the bark scraping the length of her arms and the wrenching pain in her shoulders – but there was no way she could free herself.

As the day lengthened and dusk gathered round the trees, her body sagged and her chin drooped. She no longer felt the cold and sleep claimed her. It was a restless sleep, disturbed by the strange rustlings in the undergrowth and the sensation of being watched.

The dark hid her companions, her sisters of the forest, silent, sleeping, decomposing slowly under a fine blanket of snowflakes.

* * *

The scurrying creatures of the forest were not the only ones who watched. He had returned. It was important for him to be there at the final moment, for he had one last task before she died or her soul would not be purified and saved. Now that the screaming was past it was time to remove the tape from her mouth, so that her soul would soar free with her last breath.

 

CHAPTER 2

The pressure increased when Kara’s feet left the ground. She clawed desperately at the hand tightening round her neck. But her strength was going now and she was losing the struggle. Flashing lights popped behind her eyes, and the fizzing in her ears exploded through her head. Her last thought as the darkness swallowed her was, I’m not ready to die yet.

‘You should’ve got the money, you stupid bitch.’ His voice, floating to her ears from a great distance, was silky soft in contrast to the large, rough hand gripping her throat.

Far away she could hear Charlene and Billy laughing. Thank goodness they were in the living room watching the telly. She didn’t want them to see this.

‘Well,’ he said, shaking her until her feet swung backwards and forwards like a pendulum, ‘what you going to do about the money?’

She opened her mouth to speak, to plead. But the pressure on her neck was too great. His cologne wafted round her, making her head swim, leaving the taste of perfume on her tongue. The whole world was spinning now, faster and faster. A terrible croak rasped out of her throat. Her limbs slackened, and she felt sure she was going to die.

‘Leave off, Phil,’ the other man said. ‘You don’t want to kill her yet.’

The hand loosened. Kara collapsed, gasping. She clutched wildly at the edge of the door frame and tried to stand, but her knees gave way. Her throat throbbed. She rubbed it with her hand, wincing as she touched the part where his fingers had been.

‘You didn’t have to do that,’ she rasped. ‘You’ve always got your money before. Anyway, it isn’t me who owes you, it’s Kev.’

‘Go get Kev, then.’

‘You know he’s not here. I told you already.’ Kara’s knees quivered.

‘Somebody’s got to pay, love. You know that as well as I do.’ His voice was soft, his words almost apologetic. If she hadn’t known better, she would have thought he felt sorry for her.

‘Yeah, but I don’t see why I should have to pay Kev’s dues. What he does is nothing to do with me.’ Kara wrapped her arms round her middle. Her whole body was quaking now. Why couldn’t she hold her tongue? This wasn’t Kev she was being smart with.

Phil pushed his face so close to hers she could smell peppermint under the aftershave. ‘That’s where you’re wrong, love,’ he hissed. ‘We deliver here. We get paid here. If Kev’s not available, you’ll do.’

‘That’s not fair,’ Kara moaned, realising immediately that fairness was not something Phil understood. ‘Anyway, I haven’t got any money. I told you already, Kev cleaned out my purse before he left.’

Phil flexed his hand. ‘Sorry, love, but we’re not interested in your personal problems. Far as we’re concerned the stuff was delivered and we need paid.’

‘But the wanker’s done a runner with all my money.’

‘That’s your problem, love. We’re owed five hundred big ones.’

‘Why can’t you chase Kev for it?’

‘We would, love, if we knew where to find him. But we don’t and you’re here. So, you’ve got a choice. Find Kev, or pay up.’

Kara knew Phil meant it and she backed away from him. ‘OK. Give’s another day then. I’ll get the money tomorrow.’

‘What d’you think, Gus?’ Phil turned to look at his partner ‘Will we give her another day to come up with the readies?’

Gus shrugged his shoulders. ‘Tony’s not going to be pleased. If she don’t deliver that means we’ll have to do her.’

‘Aw, c’mon, guys. What’s one more day? Tony won’t mind. What’s £500 to him?’

‘It’s the principle, love. Tony lets you off and then everyone thinks they can do it. Not good for business that.’

Kara shivered at the thought of Tony. Everyone on the estate knew he was a real bastard. He wouldn’t think twice about topping her. He’d probably do the kids as well if the rumours had any truth in them.

‘OK, then.’ Phil gently moved a strand of hair from her forehead, carefully placing it with one of the magenta streaks that gleamed brightly in her brown hair. Then he stroked her cheek with his finger, tracing the line of her face and jaw before gripping her neck again. ‘Just remember,’ his voice was low and melodic. ‘Be here. Don’t even think of doing a runner.’ He twisted his lips into a smile although his eyes were bleak and menacing. ‘The only place you’d be out of Tony’s reach would be six feet under.’ He released his hand and she slumped back onto the wall.

Kara gripped her arms tightly in an attempt to stop the shaking. She shouldn’t have opened the door to them but they’d looked like Mormons or Jehovah Witnesses with their suits, white shirts and ties. It hadn’t taken her long to realise her mistake. Now she just wanted them to leave.

She shivered some more as she watched Phil adjust his tie and smooth his blond hair before sauntering along the landing closely followed by Gus. They murmured to each other, and Phil turned and waved to her, calling, ‘See you tomorrow, love.’

The soft click of a door closing further along the landing broke the silence and Kara knew her neighbours had been nosing. It didn’t make any difference though, Tony and his thugs were well known on the estate and no one would dare to interfere. I could have been killed and they wouldn’t have done a thing about it, Kara thought, as she turned to go back into the flat.

The turn was too quick. Her head felt like mush and she staggered, clutching at the wall for support. Stinging bile hit her already aching throat. She gulped air into her lungs. She was lucky to be breathing.

She could hear the sound of the TV before she opened the living room door. ‘It’s too loud,’ she rasped at Charlene and Billy who were watching a cartoon. She reached for the remote control and lowered the volume. ‘Anyway, I thought you were reading Billy a story.’ She stared pointedly at the book lying on the floor.

Charlene turned serious eyes on her mother. ‘There was lots of noise outside and I didn’t want to hear.’

For a child of six she understood too much, Kara thought. But then, that was probably Kara’s own fault for expecting too much of her. She’d been one week past her sixteenth birthday, still only a child herself, when she’d had Charlene and hadn’t really understood what a child needed. All she knew was that she loved her daughter with a ferocity that was terrifying. No one, not even Tony Palmer, was going to threaten her kids.

Kara picked the book up and handed it to Charlene. ‘It’s your favourite,’ she whispered.

‘Billy doesn’t like stories. He likes telly better.’ Charlene tucked the book behind a cushion.

Billy nodded and pointed. ‘Want telly.’ He turned his gaze back to the screen, chuckling at the trick Jerry played on Tom – the cat leaping into the air with a howl after the mousetrap snapped shut on his tail.

She leaned over and stroked his mop of dark brown hair, as if by this gesture she could compensate for the lower level of her feeling for him. Poor kid, he couldn’t help having a prat for a father. If it hadn’t been for Billy she would have dumped Kev long ago, but it wasn’t fair to blame Billy for that.

In any case, Kev couldn’t help being what he was. There were times when he tried hard to be what she wanted, and that was when she loved him most. But he couldn’t look after himself, never mind a family, and he had a habit of leaving when he got tired of playing daddy. He always came back though, sometimes within a day, sometimes a week, sometimes months. Bloody Kev, she thought. If he hadn’t nicked all her money she wouldn’t be in this fix now. Only it was more than a fix, it was serious.

Kara knelt in front of the children, pulling them both into her arms in a bear hug.

‘Mum!’ Charlene wriggled, trying to see the TV.

Billy slung his little arms round her neck and kissed her wetly on the bruise made by Phil’s fingers. Kara winced, but still held him close.

‘Listen up, you horrors,’ she said. ‘Mum has to find the money to pay the men who came to the door or they’ll come back. That means I have to go out to find Daddy.’ She knew there was little chance of getting any money back from Kev, but she had to tell them something.

Charlene nodded, eyes older than her years. ‘How long?’ She didn’t have to say any more, Kara knew exactly what she meant.

‘A while,’ she said. ‘After you’re sleeping.’

‘Breakfast time?’ Charlene moved her eyes back to the TV.

‘I’ll be back before then. But not till late.’

‘OK.’

‘You can keep the telly on, and I’ll get you pillows and blankets so you can sleep on the sofa.’ Kara didn’t have to say this because they slept on the sofa more often than they did in their beds. They liked to cuddle down in the living room which was always warm compared to the ice boxes the Council called bedrooms. And, of course, they could watch the telly. Kara cuddled them again before she went through to the bedroom to get ready for her foray into the town.

She changed quickly, shivering with cold, her fingers almost too numb to fasten the zip on her skirt then fold the waistband over a couple of times to make it shorter. She didn’t have to bend over too far before the creamy flesh of her thighs was exposed. She smoothed her fingers over black fishnet hold-ups – a present from Kev – and thrust her feet into a pair of black high-heeled shoes. Then, removing the eighth and lowest studs in each ear, she replaced them with long, gilt earrings that dangled to her bare shoulders. Finally she pulled the neck of the black blouse lower to expose more of her breasts. She was ready for business.

She hooked her finger into the loop at the back of her red mac and returned to the living room to say goodbye to the kids. She didn’t like leaving them on their own. But what other choice did she have? Her neighbours were all scum. She might have trusted some of the women, but not the men. She’d seen too many black eyes and bruises, on the kids as well as the women, not to know what went on behind closed doors. She wouldn’t trust any of them with a dog never mind her precious children. But they’d be all right. Charlene was a sensible child even if she was only six.

Kara cuddled them one last time. ‘Look after Billy,’ she instructed. ‘And be good. If anyone knocks, don’t answer. I’ll be back before you know it.’

Charlene nodded, although her eyes never left the TV.

Kara held her breath and tiptoed along the concrete landing. She didn’t want anyone to see her leaving the flat because they’d know fine she’d left the kids on their own, and she wouldn’t put it past any of them to grass her up to the welfare. She reached the stairs, letting her breath out in a burst of air that hurt her throat, and clattered down the two flights to the street below.

A bus drew up at the stop a few yards away but she didn’t bother to run for it because she had no money. She couldn’t walk all the way into town and she didn’t have transport. Never one to give up easily, she sauntered along the pavement until she was two blocks away from her own building, quickly looked round, and slipped into the car park at the rear.

It was littered with rubbish and overshadowed on three sides by the tall concrete blocks that housed many of the unemployed of Dundee. Most of the lights had been vandalised and the area was gloomy, with shadows that seemed to flicker and move. Kara’s foot struck a can and it clattered away into the darkness. Keeping close to the scrubby bushes that ran along the car park wall, she slunk between the cars, trying door handles as she went, until she reached the furthest corner where the deepest shadows would cloak her movements. She moved silently, examining each car for open side windows or hidden keys.

Her lips formed a silent whistle when she found an old banger with its key in the ignition. The owner probably wanted to claim on the insurance, so she’d be doing him a favour by taking it.

It was the first piece of luck she’d had all night.

* * *

She was still now. Relaxed. A tree spirit, free and pure. The body an empty shell.

It had been eight nights since he had brought her here. Eight nights in which to embrace her new life. And now she was at peace. Her soul joined with that of her tree.

Rain pattered onto the branches above him. He raised his face, rejoicing in the drips, anointing him with their juices. It was their way of thanking him for bringing a new soul.

The whispers started again. At first they made no sense, but gradually they intensified and became clearer. The rough bark of the trunk he was leaning on undulated. The boughs bent towards him. The wind rose and the boughs whipped angrily above him, their whispering becoming louder and more insistent.

It was a sign the trees were becoming restless again. Their voices were becoming impatient, more demanding.

 

MISSING BELIEVED DEAD

Chapter One

Friday, 9 March

He checked the van for the last time.

He was a few miles from Dundee and would be there in less than half an hour.

The long drive from Manchester had been more exhausting than he had anticipated so he’d pulled off the road and kipped down in the van late last night. But excitement had made sleep impossible and, when he did doze, he’d had glorious wet dreams.

Jade. That’s what she called herself. He wondered if it was her real name or her chat room moniker.

It didn’t matter. What mattered was she was twelve and eager to meet him.

He tucked the rope out of sight beneath the mattress and tested the iron rings embedded in the floor of the van. The small bottle of chloroform nestled in his jacket pocket along with a gauze pad.

Giving a nod of approval he climbed over the back of the seat into the front of the van.

The engine started when he turned the key.

He always kept the van tuned up, knowing how disastrous it would be if he had a breakdown when he was carrying cargo.

The rain, spotting his windscreen, suddenly turned into a downpour and he switched his wipers to their highest speed.

Lorries rumbled past drenching the van with spray, and tailgaters annoyed by his slow speed, flashed their lights at him.

Oblivious to them all he whistled through his teeth while he drove, imagining her reaction when she found out he was not a fourteen year old boy but a man nearing his fortieth birthday. It wouldn’t matter, he would think up a story to con her into coming back to the van with him and the adventure would begin.

* * * *

They had arranged to meet at the Overgate Centre, the busiest shopping mall in Dundee, and she got there early so she could look him over when he arrived. If he was a fourteen year old boy, she would walk away. But she doubted that. No boy would be willing to come from Manchester to meet a girl. She was convinced he would be a man.

The food court beside the escalators was busy, but she bought a coffee and found a seat against the partition at the back where she would have a clear line of sight to the servery and all the tables.

The coffee scalded her tongue, and the taste and smell turned her stomach. She placed the cup back in the saucer and cradled it in her hands to stop them trembling. Her breathing became forced and she struggled for air. She thought she was going to choke.

Closing her eyes she battled the panic attack and gradually her breathing returned to normal. She could not afford to chicken out now, not after all her preparations. She had rehearsed everything in her mind over and over, and now she did it again. It would work, it had to. Her planning had been impeccable and the time was almost here. But would she be able to follow through? Would she be able to do it?

* * * *

The multi-storey car park was almost full but he managed to find a secluded corner. Most folks avoided these spaces unless nothing else was available, but he welcomed them. There was less chance of nosey parkers checking him out.

He waited a few minutes while a woman at the other end of the parking level loaded her car and drove off, then he pushed the van door open and got out. A quick look around reassured him it was safe to go and, leaning into the van, he grabbed the Harry Potter book, tucked it under his arm, and headed for the exit leading to the mall.

The lower level was busy with lunch-time shoppers. He hesitated. Crowds made him nervous, but the girls usually picked somewhere like this and he had developed coping mechanisms.

Breathing deeply, he pulled the brim of his baseball cap forward to partially mask his face, focused on a point above the heads of the moving mass of people, and forced himself to join the stream. He ignored the jostling and pushing, the jab of an umbrella, the heel of someone’s shoe digging into his foot, and concentrated on what he would say.

‘Kyle,’ for that was the name he was using, ‘tripped getting out of the van and he’s hurt his foot.’ He could imagine her frown. ‘It’s OK,’ he would say. ‘I’m his dad.’ The frown would lessen but she might still be reluctant. ‘Silly blighter was keen to meet you. He talked me into driving him here. I was going to have a look round Dundee while you two got together, but . . . ’ and here he would shrug and look embarrassed, ‘I didn’t reckon on him being clumsy. What d’you think? D’you want to come to the van to meet him?’ He would wait a few minutes while she considered, and add, ‘I’ll understand if you don’t want to, but he’ll be disappointed.’ Yeah, that should do it. These young girls were gullible. They would believe anything.

* * * *

He was easy to spot, and she watched him join the cafeteria queue. She guessed he must be in his forties although he dressed younger and was attractive. Thoughts of what he would want from her flooded her brain. Anger surged through her. She was in danger of losing her self control, so she closed her eyes and breathed deeply. Anger wouldn’t help when it came to doing what she had to do.

His eyes scanned the tables but she had not produced her Harry Potter book yet. He probably thought she hadn’t arrived. She placed her coffee cup on a nearby table and dug the book out of her knapsack when he reached the till.

He finished wrestling with his copy of the book, his wallet and the small tray with teapot, cup, saucer and Danish pastry, and turned to look for a table. She saw his start of recognition when he spotted her book. This was the crucial moment when she would have to convince him she was a young girl. But that was not the only problem. She had to make sure she could not be identified after she completed her task.

CCTV cameras were all over the shopping mall, in the ceiling and high up on the wall. But she had taken precautions. The hoodie she wore masked her face and, as long as she kept it up, the cameras would be unable to show whether she was young or old, male or female.

His tray wobbled as he picked his way through the tables. A tall, thin man with a hesitant smile, wearing grubby jeans and denim jacket, and a cap with its brim pulled low over his eyes.

‘Jade?’ His voice was pleasant and reassuring.

She pulled her hood closer to her face. ‘Go away. I don’t know you.’

He placed his tray on the table. ‘Kyle sent me.’

‘Why would Kyle send you? Why didn’t he come himself?’

‘He did come. But he had an accident getting out of the van. The silly sod tripped up over his own big feet and he’s sprained his ankle.’

‘I don’t believe you.’ It wouldn’t do to make it too easy for him or he would suspect something.

‘Cross my heart, it’s true. I’m his dad, I should know.’

‘Why would he bring his dad with him?’

‘He couldn’t drive himself from Manchester, could he? He’s not old enough for a licence.’

‘I suppose.’ She made her voice sound grudging, as if she was starting to believe him.

He sat down and poured his tea. ‘Can I get you something? Coke maybe? And then I’ll take you to Kyle.’

‘Yeah, OK. Get me a coke.’

‘Don’t go away,’ he said, ‘I’ll be right back with your coke.’

As soon as he joined the queue at the counter she tipped the pill into his cup then held her breath until she was sure the tea wasn’t going to turn blue. But it was all right, it was just as her supplier had said. The pill was one of the older ones produced before they added the blue dye to cut down on date rapes.

‘D’you always wear your hood up?’ He set the glass of coke in front of her and sat down.

‘Some of my mum’s pals might be shopping here,’ she mumbled. ‘If they see me they’ll tell my mum I’ve bunked off school.’

‘I see.’

Luckily he did not push it and she knew she was one step nearer her goal. She felt him watching her and she lowered her head, pretending to drink the coke.

‘It’s a pity Kyle couldn’t meet you here. I bet he’s sitting in the van feeling sorry for himself.’

‘If you say so.’ She could not afford to agree to go with him yet. He hadn’t drunk his tea.

‘He was keen to come here. I couldn’t refuse to drive him.’ He took a bite of his Danish pastry.

‘Yeah,’ she mumbled, willing him to drink the tea. She would never be able to do the next bit unless the drug started to work on him. He was too big for her to overpower without it.

‘Please say you’ll come back to the van with me. Kyle will be disappointed if he has to go home without seeing you.’ He lifted the cup and swallowed.

‘Sure,’ she said, ‘but I’d like to finish my coke first.’

Ten minutes would be sufficient, she thought. And by the time they walked to the van he would be more than ready for the final injection.

* * * *

He smiled at her. She had taken the bait. Pity he couldn’t see her face, but once he got her back to the van he would see far more than that. He was euphoric, thinking what he would do to her, the gifts he would give her. She would never be the same again.

He watched her lift her glass and put it on the tray. ‘You ready to go now?’

‘Yeah,’ she said, stuffing the Harry Potter book into her knapsack and slinging it over her shoulder. ‘Let’s go.’

The crowds in the mall had increased but they did not bother him. He swayed with them, walking on air. He was more relaxed than he had been for a long time.

He was vaguely aware of her holding onto his arm. ‘Nice,’ he said, patting it. ‘Kyle’s going to love you.’

He floated out of the mall into the parking garage. It seemed to be shimmering and swaying.

‘Where’s your van parked?’ Her voice came to him from a distance.

‘Top level,’ he slurred, ‘the far corner.’

‘We’re here,’ she said, although he had no recollection of moving.

‘Which one?’

He blinked, refocused and pointed.

Her hands searching his pockets sent delicious shivers through him.

‘Wow,’ he heard her say. ‘This is better than I imagined.’

The mattress felt like a cloud, the ropes like silk scarves, and the injection sent him floating to a higher plane.

 

Chapter Two

Saturday, 10 March

He laid the girl on the rug he’d spread out on the dirt floor. She was beautiful. Her blonde hair was tied back in a ponytail, although a strand had escaped and fallen over her face.

There had been another girl, a long time ago. He had loved her. She had been the light of his life, and he had thought she loved him in return.

He’d brought her here, to his special place, but something had gone wrong. She’d fought him, pummelling him with her fists, and he had held her tight. He could still feel her in his arms.

Then she started screaming, on and on. It tore a hole in his heart, and he couldn’t bear it. He pressed her face into his chest, and the woolly jacket he wore muffled her screams. He pressed harder until the sound stopped. They stayed that way for a long time, the feel of her body in his arms so comforting he never wanted to let her go.

It was when she went limp he realized what had happened. He shook her, but she was like a rag doll. He tried the kiss of life, but there was no life left in her.

He cradled her in his arms, rocking her and crying. Tears ran down his face, wet and salty, splashing on her lovely face.

A long time later, he gently dried her face with his handkerchief. He would have to do something with her body, but he didn’t want to put it in the cold ground where the worms would get her.

The oak, cabin trunk in the corner, where he stored his tools would make an ideal resting place. He emptied it, padded the bottom with pillows he’d taken from his bed and covered them with a piece of red velvet. Then he laid her out gently, placing her so she looked asleep.

He closed the lid and left, taking one last sad look at the trunk, before closing the door and locking it.

The trunk was still here and he rested his hand on it, closing his eyes and picturing her all over again.

He looked at the girl lying beside it and, reaching out, he stroked the strand of hair behind her ear with a gentle touch. Her face, so lovely, so innocent, reminded him of the girl whom he had loved with all his heart.

‘I’m sorry,’ he said, binding her wrists in front of her, ‘but it wouldn’t do if you ran off, and we are going to have such a good time.’

Once her ankles were bound, he placed a bottle of water and a loaf of bread within her reach, and stood up.

‘I have to leave you,’ he murmured. ‘They’ll be looking for you and I need to be back home for the time being. But I’ll be back before long.’

* * * *

Megan stirred and opened her eyes. She didn’t know where she was, and it was so dark she couldn’t make out whether the place was large or small. The rope binding her wrists and ankles bit into her skin, and when she moved it seemed to tighten. Maybe he was here watching her? She held her breath, listening for sounds that would indicate she wasn’t alone, but heard nothing. At least she wasn’t gagged, although her mouth was so dry she had difficulty swallowing, and her tongue felt too big.

At first when she screamed the sound was slight, but it gained in intensity, and she screamed and screamed, until her throat felt full of razor blades. No one heard her, and she knew that must have been why he didn’t gag her.

Her head ached now, and the shivering wouldn’t stop. She tried, yet again, to loosen the rope round her wrists, but they were chafed and sore, and she had to give up. Cramps attacked her limbs and the itch on her leg intensified. Maybe it was a spider, she hated spiders. She opened her mouth to scream again, but all that came out was a croak.

The darkness felt oppressive, pressing in on her and bringing with it strange smells of decay and mould. She shifted her foot and it struck something solid. She seemed to be wedged between it and the wall. There was hardly room to move in the confined space, but she managed to pull her knees up. They cramped again and she stretched her legs out on the cold damp floor, squirming to relieve the tightness in her muscles. The floor beneath her felt strange on her legs, it didn’t feel like wood or any other floor covering and she strongly suspected it might be bare earth.

She shuddered. If it was earth, that meant there would be creepy crawlies, and she couldn’t stand them.

Tears trickled down her cheeks, plopping off her chin onto her neck. She wriggled her shoulders, trying to reach the damp patches, but it was no use and her cheeks and neck remained wet and sticky, contributing to the chill in her body.

She wondered if her ma would miss her. If she would look for her. But she’d run away too many times, maybe her ma wouldn’t bother. Maybe she’d shrug her shoulders and expect her to return once she was ready. But she couldn’t return this time.

More tears slipped down her cheeks.

She’d been a fool, no doubt about that. It all started after she met Robbie on Facebook. His photo had been dishy, lovely dark hair, and eyes so blue they made her insides all funny. He was eighteen, he’d said, and she’d told him she was seventeen, even if she was only fourteen. He made her laugh with his comments, and he never said anything out of place, so she thought it safe to meet him.

He suggested the entrance to the Eastern Cemetery because it wasn’t far from where she lived. She’d thought it a strange place but he said it would be easy for them to recognize each other there, because loads of folk wouldn’t be hanging about, and once they’d met up they could go downtown to the city centre. So, she’d gone there, and waited and waited, but he never came.

A car had driven up and she recognized the guy who got out, he lived in the same block. She turned away hoping he hadn’t seen her. He leaned into the back of the car and brought out a bunch of flowers before vanishing up one of the paths. Ten minutes later he returned, without the flowers. She saw him hesitate before he got back in the car. He reversed until it was level with the gate then started to drive out. The car stopped when it reached her. He wound down the window and leaned out. ‘You’re May’s lass, aren’t you?’ he’d said. ‘Your mum was looking for you. I think she was annoyed.’

She shivered, her ma could be a dragon when she was in a paddy.

‘I could give you a lift if you like . . . it would get you home quicker.’

‘OK,’ she said, and got in the car.

‘There’s a bottle of coke on the back seat if you want it.’

She reached over, took a drink of the coke, and that was the last thing she remembered before waking up here in the dark and the cold.

No one came when she screamed. And now she knew no one ever would.