‘Don’t be daft. What if that’s where they came from?’ Lottie said. She added, ‘The DPC is within walking distance of my house. Not that far for a four-year-old, if he cut down by the canal or was brought that way. And the canal route is lined with cherry blossom trees.’ She took off down the corridor.
‘There are petals everywhere after all that rain. Where the hell are you going now?’
Lottie kept walking. ‘To try and get past Dan Russell’s stonewalling attitude.’
‘Lottie…’
‘What?’
‘Remember you told me what the superintendent said to you the other day, about standing on toes.’
‘Boyd, I think you have a hearing problem.’
Running down the stairs before he could stop her again, she heard the sound of his fist banging against the wall.
Forty-Eight
‘Twenty Major,’ Boyd said. He needed a smoke. Badly. Lottie was getting on his nerves this morning. Opening his wallet, he handed over his bank card.
‘Sorry,’ the shop assistant said. ‘We only take cash for cigarettes and Lotto.’
‘Really?’
‘Yes. Bank charges, you know. Huge.’
Sighing, Boyd flicked through his wallet looking for a tenner and counted out the odd change. He was sure he’d had a fifty. No sign of it.
He put the cigarettes into his pocket, and as he was closing his wallet he noticed a piece of white cloth sticking out from where he had pulled the notes.
The assistant handed him ten cents change. He waved it away and left the shop. As he walked towards the station, opening up the cigarette pack, he remembered the piece of cloth. He took out his wallet to have a look.
‘Marcus! There you are.’
Leaning against the barrier at the station steps, sun behind her head, Jackie appeared like a spectre from the light.
‘I need to talk to you,’ she said.
Boyd shoved the piece of material back into the wallet and tried to manoeuvre around her, but she grabbed his arm, pulling him back down the steps.
‘What, Jackie?’ he said.
‘It wasn’t very pleasant last night, you shoving me out and shutting the door in my face. Not nice at all, Marcus.’
‘Will you stop calling me that? What do you want?’
‘A short chat.’
Boyd took her by the elbow, wheeled her away from the station and walked in silence towards the canal bridge. He didn’t want anyone overhearing what she might have to say.
‘Glad I have my flat shoes on,’ Jackie said, when at last he stopped and leaned on the bridge.
Gazing into the murky green water reminded him of how he felt – murky and very green. He didn’t like being wrong-footed, but Jackie had always been able to do it. He glanced at her, and despite everything she had done to him, a flicker of desire cut through him like a skewer. It’s over, he reminded himself. Over.
‘I haven’t got all day, so come on, what is it you want to talk about?’
‘I need to warn you…’ she began.
‘What?’ He turned to her. As far as he could remember, Jackie only ever thought of herself.
‘It’s about Jamie.’
‘What about him?’
‘He’s very dangerous.’
Boyd threw back his head and laughed. ‘Ah, go on, Jackie. Tell me something new.’
‘Don’t you dare laugh at me, Marcus. I’ve noticed things recently. That’s what I wanted to tell you last night. I called the night before also, but you were out. There are things you need to know about.’
Her hand touched his arm. His skin tingled. Drawing away, he shoved his hands into his pockets. Safer there, he thought.
‘I’m waiting,’ he said.
‘Can we go somewhere else? Have a drink. Talk like adults,’ she said.
He stepped around her and backed away with his hands raised.
‘You’re playing games with me and I don’t like it. I doubt you really have anything to tell me, so you know what, I’m going back to work.’ He started to walk.
‘He’s involved in smuggling.’
‘Jesus, sure I know that. McNally has had his hand in guns and drugs since he could walk,’ he said over his shoulder.
‘But now it’s women, girls.’
Boyd stopped, turned around and stared at Jackie. He shrugged. He never could read his not-yet-ex-wife.
‘Human trafficking? McNally? I’d have him down for a lot of things, but not that.’
‘I know. That’s what scares me.’
Boyd walked slowly back towards her. ‘Why are you telling me this?’
‘I need to get away from him. You have to help me.’
‘Always a catch with you, isn’t there?’
‘Will you help me?’ She fluttered her eyelashes like a little girl playing at being grown up.
Despite his best efforts to refuse, because Jackie was nothing but trouble, Boyd nodded.
‘I’m busy now. I’ll chat to you later. Give me your number. I’ll text you.’
Whatever he thought of her, he was compelled to listen to her. He needed to know what had brought Jamie McNally back to Ragmullin. His duty was to his job, no longer to Jackie. But if she genuinely was scared, he’d probably have to help her.
‘Don’t forget.’ She took his pen and wrote her number in his notebook before planting a kiss on his cheek and hurrying over the bridge.
He watched her go. What was he getting himself into? Taking after Lottie and jumping in with both feet. He knew he was going to get wet; he just hoped he didn’t drown.
Forty-Nine
The navy-blue sky was heavy with rain and inky clouds hung low as Lottie walked through the gates of the old army barracks.
Heading for Russell’s office block, she couldn’t help noticing how dilapidated the buildings had become since the army moved out. The damp gully along the footpath had vermin boxes nestling against the wall every couple of metres. Weeds and grass sprouted between the tarmac and the cobbled path.
A group of women clustered around the door to the cookhouse. Perfect, Lottie thought. Life at last. They might even speak a little English. She crossed over, heading towards them.
‘Inspector, this way.’
She swung around to see Dan Russell standing at the door to his office. His navy chinos, white shirt and dark blue tie made her feel shabby in her T-shirt and faded jeans. Damn.
She was debating whether to nab the women or obey his command when the small group hurried into the cookhouse, taking the decision away from her.
‘Can I see what goes on here?’ she asked.
Russell joined her. ‘Of course,’ he said. ‘Follow me. We’re running a very interesting project at the moment.’
She noticed his face visibly relaxing into a broad smile. Clearly he didn’t want her talking to anyone without his say-so. They crossed the square towards a building she remembered from Adam’s time as the NCOs’ mess. Noticing even more vermin boxes along the outside walls, she asked, ‘Have you an infestation problem?’
‘Yes, but it’s not as bad as it was at the chicken farm.’
‘The chicken farm? I remember that from somewhere.’
‘It was our base camp in Kosovo. Awful place.’