Back in Dumfries, Lind sighed and, with a heavy heart, picked up the phone. The remains might not be those of Ailish, but he knew that her sister Maureen would want to be told of the grisly find at the earliest opportunity.
‘Hello, can I speak to Maureen Kerrigan, please?’
‘Detective Lind, is that you?’ asked the soft lilting voice. ‘Dear God, have they found her? Is she …?’
‘We’ve found the remains of a body. There’s nothing to say it’s your sister yet, but I wanted you to hear it from me first.’
‘I see,’ she said with a catch in her voice. ‘You’ll keep me in the loop?’
‘Always,’ he said and heard the tears start to come as she replaced the receiver.
He had been the officer in charge of the investigation into her disappearance over three years ago. Given the kind of life she had been living back then, the most likely explanation was that she had simply run off after a tiff with her boyfriend. However, when her elder sister, Maureen, had come over from Ireland to report her missing, he had thought that theory did not sit very well with the text Ailish had sent the morning she disappeared. He had persuaded the Super to let him launch an investigation that had turned up precisely nothing. As with all missing person cases, there had been a number of alleged sightings, but none had turned out to be concrete. He had been left with a niggling feeling of failure. Beyond the bare fact of her disappearance, there had been no evidence then or since to suggest that she had come to any harm. Of course, it might not even be her.
His mobile rang. It was Laura. There was a time not so long ago when unexpectedly hearing her voice lifted his spirits. These days, he was so perplexed and unsettled by her behaviour that his stomach would flip with dread. He accepted the call and frowned as Laura’s voice announced that she was unable to collect the children from school as something had come up. He could hear laughter and music in the background. Her speech was slurred.
‘Laura, I can’t simply drop everything.’
‘But you expect me to?’ she snapped.
‘A body has been found,’ he said, attempting to remonstrate with her.
‘So? If it’s dead, what’s the hurry?’
‘Have you been drinking?’
‘And what if I have?’
He could tell this was an argument he wasn’t going to win. Someone was egging her on in the background. Probably that new so-called friend of hers.
‘Fine. I’ll pick them up,’ he said and terminated the call, feeling the first opening salvo of a killer headache.
At least he knew that Farrell was en route to the new crime scene. He could rely on him not to stuff things up. It wasn’t the first time recently that Laura had phoned him out of the blue to collect the kids from school and nursery. He had a feeling she was pushing the self-destruct button. Ever since she had lost the baby last year, she had been various versions of the person he married, but never the same one. He had hoped that the worst was behind them but since she had met that woman at her support group things had deteriorated.
He glanced at his watch. There was a scheduled briefing for the Monro Stevenson case at 4 p.m. He would need to take that in Farrell’s absence, which would still give him time to collect the kids and deposit them somewhere. But where? They were too young to come into the station.
As if in answer to his prayers, DI Moore popped her head around his door. There were deep shadows under her eyes. She looked exhausted.
‘Kate! Shouldn’t you have been away hours ago?’
‘I’m just heading off, John. Been going through the forgery case files forwarded by Glasgow with a fine-tooth comb, but we have so little to go on. I’m still trying to get hold of the CCTV footage from Broughton House. DC Thomson’s idea. Smart lad.’
‘Yes, he’s shaping up nicely. Actually, Kate, I don’t suppose? No forget it. You get along.’
‘John, if you need me to do something, get to the point. I can always say no,’ she said.
‘It’s more in the nature of a personal favour,’ he said.
‘Go on,’ she said.
‘Could you possibly pick up the kids from school and nursery?’
‘I would LOVE to!’ She beamed, looking suddenly less tired.
‘Really? You honestly don’t mind?’
‘Your kids are adorable, John. It’s hardly a hardship.’
Only to their mother, thought Lind.
‘Brilliant! I owe you one, Kate. I’ll give the nursery a ring to let them know you’ll be collecting them.’
‘What about car seats and whatnot?’ she asked.
‘Both Laura and I have them, and I’m insured for any driver,’ he said, handing her his car keys. ‘I’ll get back as soon as I can.’
‘Take your time. I’m not due on until the morning.’
‘I need to cover the briefing at 4 p.m. then I should be able to relieve you and work from home for a bit.’
‘Is Laura all right? She’s not unwell, is she?’
‘No,’ said Lind. ‘Maybe … to be honest I don’t really know,’ he sighed.
‘Give it time, she’s been through a lot.’
‘You’re right. I need to try harder.’
‘If you ever want a weekend away, I’d be happy to look after them. I could rope Frank in. They love running him ragged.’
‘Thanks, Kate. I might take you up on that!’
‘I hear they’ve found some remains out at Dundrennan?’
‘Frank and Mhairi are down there now, to secure the scene with SOCO. Given where the remains are located, I suspect foul play has been involved. It’s on MoD property, the firing range. They’ll no doubt be sending a couple of officers to breathe down our necks.’
‘Another body, though, in that general area? Could be pertinent to the forgery ring?’
‘Could also be that missing girl from three years ago, Ailish Kerrigan. I had to phone her sister and warn her of the possibility.’
‘That can’t have been an easy call.’
‘No. Her family have been to Hell and back. Anyway, no point in speculating until the pathologist has had a chance to inspect the remains. What with Monro Stevenson and now this? We’re keeping him busy.’
‘I’ll get off then,’ she said. ‘Take as long as you need.’
Farrell sat in the car fuming beside an equally twitchy McLeod, with her mobile clamped to one ear. In front of them was a barrier with the words:
No entry by order of Ministry of Defence. Danger. Unexploded Ordnance.
Behind them was a car containing a couple of officers from Kirkcudbright.
‘This is ridiculous. We need to get in there now and secure that scene. How long are these jokers going to be?’ said Farrell.
‘You’re not going to like it,’ she said, ending the call.
‘Tell me anyway.’
‘The MoD are sending someone down from Glasgow. It’s going to be around two and a half hours.’
‘Well,