Chapter 28
CHAPTER TWENTY-EIGHT
Sinead’s head snapped in the direction of the door as Logan came barrelling in with Hamza and Ben trailing in his wake.
It had been a couple of hours since her interview, and almost ninety minutes since Tyler had been called through for his. She’d felt reasonably calm during her own interrogation by the panel, but her heart was hammering away in her chest now.
Logan acknowledged her with a nod, then stopped beside Dave Davidson’s desk, arms folded, face like a bulldog chewing a wasp.
‘Joe Robertson had a shotgun?’
Dave rolled himself back a little so he didn’t put his neck out looking up at the towering DCI.
‘Aye, so the wife says. Reckons he must’ve taken it out with him when he left.’
‘And she didn’t think to mention that when she called it in?’ Logan barked.
‘She only realised when I asked her if anything was missing. If he’d taken anything with him when he went out,’ Dave explained. ‘She went and checked under the bed, where he keeps it. It wasn’t there.’
‘Christ,’ Logan hissed. He wheeled around to Hamza. ‘Get on to that sergeant. Something Fleck. Gavin. Let him know—’
‘Already done, sir. Dave phoned it in on the way back up the road. We passed it on. There’s more Uniform heading down to join the search. No sign so far, though.’
‘Right. Good,’ Logan muttered. He tutted. ‘A fucking shotgun.’
‘You thinking about yon fella over in Forres?’ Ben asked.
‘You mean the one who had seventy percent of his skull blasted off his shoulders by a shotgun fired at close range? Aye, funnily enough, he had crossed my mind,’ Logan confirmed.
‘You don’t think the old fella did it, do you?’
Logan sighed heavily. His teeth ground together. ‘I don’t know. I doubt it. Maybe. I don’t know.’
‘If it makes any difference,’ Dave volunteered, ‘it’s unregistered. I looked it up. The wife reckons it was Joe’s brother’s before he died.’
Logan spun back to Dave. ‘Did she know for sure it was there earlier? Under the bed? Yesterday morning, the day before, whenever? When did she last see it?’
‘Months ago, she says.’
‘Fuck.’ Logan folded his arms and drummed his fingers on his biceps. ‘So, we don’t know for sure he has it with him?’
‘We know it’s not there, though,’ Hamza said. ‘So probably better to assume.’
‘And if he did take it, he took it for a reason,’ Ben added.
Logan conceded both points with a grunt. Sergeant Fleck had clearly been worried that Joe was going to do something stupid, but there had been an implied to himself tacked onto the end of that concern.
But what if Joe hadn’t set out to do himself harm? What if he’d set out to harm someone else?
‘I want him found. Now. Get dogs down there and a chopper in the air,’ Logan instructed. ‘Dave, did the wife have any ideas where he might have gone?’
‘None she could think of.’
‘Then tell her to think again.’
‘What about the neighbourhood watch lot?’ Ben suggested. ‘From the presentation thing. They might have some ideas.’
Hamza didn’t look convinced. ‘He seemed a bit… removed from the rest of the group.’
‘Don’t care. Worth a try,’ Logan said.
‘Sergeant Fleck would be the best person to ask,’ Hamza suggested.
‘Good. Right. In fact, bring him on board. I’ll get him assigned to the investigation. He handled himself well in that interview room. If Joe Robertson is tied to this, he could be handy.’
He raised his voice into a shout that almost made Ben jump out of his skin.
‘Sinead!’
Sinead sprang to her feet like a child getting caught mid-mischief.
‘Sir?’
Logan went striding past the others, headed towards the back of the room.
‘My office. Now. The rest of you, get to work!’
Sinead hurried across the Incident Room and followed Logan into his office.
‘Jesus Christ!’
Hamza, Dave, and Ben all turned to see Tyler staggering in from the corridor. His hands were pressing into his lower back like he was stretching after a long car journey. His eyes were wide, his face pale, and there were at least half a dozen strands of hair ever so slightly out of place.
He blew out his cheeks and shook his head, sweeping his thousand-yard stare across the far wall.
‘I am never doing that again!’
Logan closed the door at Sinead’s back, then spun to face her.
‘Well?’
Sinead blinked. ‘Sir?’
‘How did it go?’
‘How did…? You mean the interview?’ Some of the tension ebbed from her stance. ‘I thought I was in trouble for something, the way you shouted.’
‘What? Oh, no. That. Just putting a rocket up their arse out there.’ He nodded encouragingly. ‘So?’
Sinead pulled a face that suggested the interview experience had been something of a traumatic one.
‘I mean… they’re quite full-on.’
‘They’re a shower of arseholes, you mean,’ Logan corrected. ‘But?’
Sinead shrugged. Smiled. Ran a hand through her hair.
‘But… it went OK. I think. I hope. They didn’t laugh me out of the room at any point. Some of the questions threw me a bit, but I think I managed to pull answers out from somewhere.’
‘Nice. Good. Good. Well done,’ Logan told her. ‘They say when you’d hear?’
‘No. I mean, not really. Said it wouldn’t be today—’
‘Bastards,’ Logan interjected.
‘Maybe tomorrow, though,’ Sinead continued. ‘I suppose it all depends on how Tyler gets on, and how much they need to discuss.’
‘They might well drag it out. Makes them feel important,’ Logan said. ‘But I’ll talk to Mitchell. See if she can give me any insight.’
‘Thanks, sir. Um, I think Tyler’s out, can I…?’
Logan waved her towards the door. She put a hand on the handle, but didn’t open it.
‘Have, eh… Have you spoken to Olivia yet?’
Logan grimaced, then shook his head. ‘No.’
‘Don’t you think—?’
‘We’ll see what her father has to say for himself first.’
Sinead hesitated. ‘Right.’ She opened her mouth like she was going to offer some argument, but decided against it. ‘Whatever you think.’
She shot him a smile, then went hurrying out.
Logan hung back in his office, watching as Sinead rushed to Tyler’s side. Watching as he grabbed her hand and let his shoulders flop, like he was about to pass out after running a marathon.
Jack checked his watch. Half-one. It was Friday, which meant an early finish for schools across the Highland Council region.
Olivia would be home soon. If he left now, he could beat her there.
But why? For what? What would he even ask her? What did he expect her to say?
He checked his watch again. Nothing had changed, of course, but something he saw there made his mind up for him.
‘Taggart!’
The wee dog came trotting out from under the desk with an inquisitive woof?
Logan unhooked the lead from the back of his office door.
‘Let’s get you home.’
Logan was passing the door to Det Supt Mitchell’s office when a shout from within surprised him.
‘Jack!’
He stopped and considered the closed door beside him, then knocked and entered without any further invite.
Mitchell stood by the window, arms folded like she’d just been admiring the view of the windswept car park and industrial estate.
‘Ma’am? How did you know—?’
Mitchell cut him off. ‘You’re the size of a Shire horse, Jack. I know when you’re walking past my door.’
She looked down at Taggart, who was sitting at Jack’s side, panting happily.
‘I was, eh, I was just going to drop him off back home,’ he explained.
Mitchell’s complete lack of reaction suggested she had no opinion on this either way. She pointed to the door behind him, and he reluctantly pushed it closed.
‘There a problem, ma’am?’
‘You’ve ordered a helicopter?’ Mitchell asked.
Logan was quietly impressed by how quickly Hamza had carried out the order.
‘I did.’
The fold of Mitchell’s arms tightened like a knot. ‘For a missing pensioner?’
‘For an armed and potentially dangerous missing pensioner, aye.’
‘You bypassed me with it.’
‘You were busy.’
‘You could’ve come and got me.’
Logan shrugged. ‘Didn’t want to interrupt.’
Mitchell glowered at him, but then her anger seemed to dissipate as she rubbed at her forehead. ‘It’s fine. The panel, they can be…’
She fished around for the right word. Logan was only too happy to provide it.
‘Twats?’
Mitchell almost—almost—laughed. ‘Hard work is what I was going to say.’
‘Oh. Right. Aye.’
‘But I’m not saying you’re wrong,’ the Det Supt continued.
‘How did they go? The interviews?’
‘You know I can’t go into detail, Jack,’ Mitchell said.
She stole a look at the office door again, before completely contradicting that last statement.
‘Sinead’s was… good. Solid. Very good, really.
She handled herself well. There were some nerves, yes, but she settled quickly.
Everyone was impressed. Genuinely. Nothing but good words. ’
Logan was not remotely surprised to hear any of that.
‘And Tyler?’
‘Tyler. Tyler.’ Mitchell turned to look out of the window again while she considered the question. ‘Tyler’s was one of the most extraordinary interviews I’ve ever been involved in.’
Logan’s eyebrows crept higher on his forehead.
‘Oh? Right. Bloody hell. I mean… good. Great. Good for him.’
‘Oh, no. Sorry, that’s not what I meant,’ Mitchell replied. ‘I didn’t mean it was extraordinary in a positive way.’
The eyebrows dropped back down to Earth with a bump. ‘Right.’
‘Are you familiar with the animated Disney movie, The Little Mermaid?’ Mitchell asked.
‘Not really,’ Jack conceded.
‘Well, that must be nice for you, because I am. I very much am. The whole panel is, in fact.’
Logan’s eyebrows continued on their downward trajectory until they formed a V above the bridge of his nose. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Tyler talked about the film in great detail and at some length. Told us about the plot, discussed his favourite bits. He actually looked the Assistant Chief Constable in the eye and told him he should never trust a sea witch.’
Logan’s lips moved silently as he processed this new information.
‘I mean, it’s sound advice, I suppose,’ he eventually conceded.
‘He hummed one of the tunes for a bit, and then told us he cries at the part where she gets legs.’
‘When who gets legs?’ Logan asked, which drew a sharp, reprimanding tut from the detective superintendent.
‘The Little Mermaid. Obviously.’
Logan didn’t bother to hide his confusion. ‘Why’s she not got—? Oh, right. She’s a fish, aye. Course.’
‘I genuinely thought he was having a breakdown, or some sort of psychotic episode,’ Mitchell said.
Logan was forced to admit that this wasn’t beyond the realms of possibility, but Mitchell had already dismissed the idea.
‘He was throwing it. The interview. The whole thing,’ she said. ‘When I realised, I asked him if that was the case. He denied it. Said he was just nervous, and that he’d do better next time.’
She rocked on her heels, like she needed a moment to process the next part.
‘Then he sang the first two verses of Under the Sea in a Jamaican accent.’
‘Bloody hell,’ Logan muttered.
Mitchell exhaled slowly through her nose. ‘Like I said. Extraordinary.’
‘Sounds it, aye. I’ll talk to him, see what he was thinking.’
Logan checked his watch. One forty. Olivia would be nearly home.
‘I’d better get off.’
‘Yes, yes, of course. Don’t let me keep you. I’m sure you’ve got enormous resourcing bills to be running up somewhere. A few hundred drones and a bomb disposal robot, maybe.’
Logan grunted out a half-laugh. ‘I’ll see what I can do.’
Down at floor level, Taggart got to his feet, sensing a departure was imminent. Logan had one final question to ask before they left, though.
‘Sinead said they might not find out until tomorrow?’
The thought seemed to amuse the detective superintendent.
‘Oh, based on what I saw in there? I don’t think the panel members are going to have to spend too much time mulling this one over…’