Madness Lies Read online

  The driver looked over his shoulder. ‘Where to, mate?’

  Ryan took the scarf off and shoved it under the seat in front. ‘Stadium Road, please.’

  ***

  Chapter 26

  Carla had kept Joe awake most of the night, but not in the way he’d have liked. She must be feeling like shit waiting for her results, and he hadn’t even remembered to call her. He was a tosser and he didn’t deserve her. She hadn’t answered his texts. Maybe that was it over. And who could blame her?

  And when he’d managed to put Carla out of his head, Danielle Smith and Gordon Sutherland replaced her. And hundreds of questions. It was starting to get light when he slept. There was still no rest for him. Another struggle and a stabbing on the rocks in South Harris, only this time Lucy lay dead, while Stephen MacLaren’s laughter echoed through Joe’s head.

  Joe slept in. He should have been in the station early. There was so much to be done. A video-link with Manchester to discuss the Nancy Connor file; an undercover operation to coordinate at Castlefield Apartments; a meeting with the homeless services to discuss women that might have disappeared over the last few months; find out from Roz Sutherland if Gordon had any money problems, and might he have borrowed from this Todd? Maybe they’d have the results from Katya’s phone, or even an arrest at an airport somewhere. So much to do. But first, he had to see Carla.

  He was at the Tesco roundabout on the outskirts of Inverness when a call came over his radio. A jumper on the Kessock Bridge. ‘Can someone else take this?’ he asked control. ‘I’m busy.’

  ‘There’s been a fire in a hotel on Loch Ness side, a road accident in Hilton and another at Daviot. DI Black says you’ve done a negotiator course.’

  ‘A half day, five years ago.’

  ‘He’s trying to get someone else, but you’re it for now.’

  Great. ‘Which side of the bridge?’

  ‘Northbound. Near the middle. Young guy.’

  At the first lay-by on approach to the bridge, he swithered. He could park here and run, or he could stop on the bridge. He decided on the lay-by. The bridge was too busy and the traffic too fast. There would be no way to give adequate warning of a stationary car to approaching drivers. Hopefully, he’d have back-up before too long, and they could close the bridge.

  It was a good half mile to the centre of the bridge. As he ran, he noticed the tide was in. That was a plus. There had been jumpers that hadn’t thought to take account of the tides. Messy.

  Joe was out of breath and he wasn’t even quarter of the way across. Nothing to see so far. Maybe the guy had jumped or gone home. The weight of the central section of the bridge was carried by four towers, with steel cables stretching down to the road deck. There were caged platforms with ladders for maintenance at intervals across the length of the bridge. As Joe approached the first of the towers, he saw someone standing in the adjacent caged platform. Messy dyed blond hair and a bright flowery shirt. Poor bugger. There had been so many of them in recent years. Young Highland men that had chosen suicide as the only way to solve their problems.

  Joe stopped a few feet from the jumper. He breathed deeply and centred himself. Tried to remember what he’d learned on that distant course. Nothing came to him. Before he could speak, the guy turned. As he looked beyond the blond hair and the odd assortment of clothes, Joe felt as if he’d been punched in the stomach. ‘Ryan?’

  There was fear in the boy’s eyes. He backed off. ‘Don’t even think about coming any closer.’

  Joe held his hands up. ‘I won’t.’

  ‘Why the fuck did they send you? Haven’t you got two murders to solve?’

  He almost told Ryan the truth; he just happened to be passing and no one else was available. Probably not the best way to start. He smiled. ‘I have, but you’re more important.’

  Ryan shook his head. ‘Aye, right.’

  ‘You are.’ Joe stayed to the left of the cage. He leaned on the metal barrier and looked out across the Beauly Firth. ‘What’s up, Ryan?’

  ‘As if you care. You’re only interested ‘cos you think I can help you solve your murders. Otherwise, I’m nothing. Completely insignificant. I’m never going to be anything.’

  Joe smiled. ‘That’s not true.’

  ‘Aye it is, I’ve spent my whole life watching everyone else know what they’re doing. God knows how they know, or where they get it from. Probably their parents. Maybe they’re brought up knowing they belong. I just don’t.’

  ‘Not belonging.’ Joe nodded. ‘I know what you mean. It’s tough.’

  ‘You?’ Ryan’s voice was scornful. ‘Mr Super Cool Detective, with your fancy suits and your tan? Not belonging?’

  Joe shrugged. ‘Appearances can be deceptive. I’ve had my problems; still have.’

  ‘What? Getting stabbed?’

  Though his instinct was to rub at his scar, Joe kept his hands on the rail. He nodded. ‘That’s one of them.’

  ‘Why did MacLaren do that?’

  ‘Long story, Ryan. A whole catalogue of disasters and trauma that could have been avoided if our parents had handled things differently. Parents don’t always get it right. None of us do.’

  There was a long pause. Joe was tempted to fill the space, but he didn’t. Embrace the power of the pause – one of the few things he remembered from the negotiation course.

  ‘Have you…have you seen my mum?’ Ryan’s voice was weak.

  ‘Yes. I saw her yesterday morning at the flat. We were looking for you. She was really upset you’d gone.’

  ‘She’s got Christopher now; she doesn’t need me. I’ve only ever caused her trouble. She’s always been closer to Liam.’

  Christopher? Joe didn’t dare ask, much as he’d like to know. ‘Her worry seemed genuine to me.’

  ‘What did she tell you?’

  Joe saw the marks on Ryan’s neck and the backs of his hands. ‘Nothing much.’ The lie made his heart race. But what would the truth have done to Ryan? ‘I don’t think she knew anything.’

  ‘She’ll hate me now.’ There were tears in his eyes. ‘Everyone will.’

  ‘She could never hate you. She doesn’t believe you’ve done anything wrong; she just thinks you’re scared to come home.’

  ‘What about you?’ His voice was shaky. ‘Do you think I killed them?’

  Joe shook his head. ‘I think you’ve been dragged into it by someone. Maybe you had no idea what was going to happen, no idea what he was really like.’

  Ryan nodded. ‘He came looking for me. Reeled me right in. Bastard.’

  ‘Looking for you?’

  Ryan rubbed his eyes. ‘Said he was a friend of my dad. You’ve no idea what that meant.’

  Joe knew exactly what that meant. The memories, the wishing, the fantasising. He’d been fortunate to have the best step-father he could ever have asked for, but still. ‘It’s tough to lose your dad, especially when you’re wee. Believe me, I know.’

  There was confusion and despair on the boy’s face. ‘But…my father was such a bastard. I hated him.’

  Joe nodded. ‘Doesn’t matter, does it? Doesn’t stop you convincing yourself that everything in your life would be different if he was still around.’

  ‘Yeah. And Todd Curtis played on that. I’ve been such a fucking idiot.’

  Yes. A surname, at last.

  ‘I’m fucked. Whatever I do, I’m fucked.’

  ‘You’re not, Ryan. I’ll make sure of that.’

  He laughed, but there was no humour in it. ‘You going to promise I won’t go inside? Like on TV?’

  ‘I can’t promise that. But I can make sure the court knows you helped.’

  There was a hint of hope in Ryan’s eyes. He might just be taking Joe seriously. A breeze blew in from the north, and Joe saw Ryan shiver. He looked down to the water. There was a yacht approaching the bridge, its white sail catching the wind. ‘You ever been on one of those?’ Ryan asked.

  ‘Many times. This is not really a tan; I’m just weat
her-beaten from sailing.’

  ‘Do you think that’s Swedish? Vindo 45, maybe?’

  ‘Could be.’ Joe nodded. ‘How do you know that?’

  Ryan shrugged. ‘There’s one for sale in the Inverness Marina. Not that they’d let me anywhere near the place. I saw it online.’

  ‘You’re interested in sailing?’

  Ryan almost smiled. ‘Yeah. What’s it like?’

  Joe had been asked that before, usually when he’d chosen a sailing trip over a girlfriend. He’d never found a way to adequately describe the exhilaration and freedom, but now was the time to try, and he had to do it justice.

  He leaned his elbows on the metal rail and looked out over the water. ‘It’s like a different world, Ryan. Even after the shittiest of days, when my brain is crammed with all kinds of crap, I step on-board and it all starts to slip away. Excitement comes. Doesn’t matter if it’s a routine evening club sail, or a long trip, that excitement is always there. When I’m on land, the water is something that separates me from other people and places, but as soon as I step on-board it becomes this amazing thing that connects. The possibilities are endless.’

  Was he overdoing it? He glanced at Ryan, expecting disdain or mockery. Ryan was side-on, gazing at the yacht, the merest hint of a smile on his lips. Joe’s pause made him turn. His look was impatient. He wanted to hear more. He had to.

  ‘This is going to sound a bit odd, but it almost feels like every boat is a living thing, with a personality of its own. And it’s not really about mastering the boat; you almost want to blend together, to create something new. And if you do it right, and if everything else works out, it’s amazing. Like flying.’

  Joe was sweating. Time to bring it down a bit. ‘It’s bloody hard work, physically and mentally. So much to learn, and so many things to take account of. The boat, the tide, the currents, the wind, the crew. You have to learn how to read them all, and yourself. It’s a game of chance. No two outings are the same, and it doesn’t always go well. But when the wind and the water are right, there’s nothing else like it. That sense of confidence when you succeed.’ He smiled at Ryan. ‘I’ve never found anything I enjoy as much. And after each trip, I feel as if I come back a little different.’

  Ryan smiled. The transformation shocked Joe. This was the boy that Sharon loved, the one she knew and believed in, no matter what anyone said. He looked so young and earnest. ‘I knew it would be like that. I knew it.’

  ‘Would you like to learn?’

  He nodded, but his smile faded. ‘It’s not for the likes of me. Just a dream. I used to go down the canal and watch the boats, imagine myself sailing away. No looking back.’

  ‘I could teach you if you want. When this is all over.’

  Ryan looked just as surprised as Joe felt. And no wonder. What the hell was he saying? But it wasn’t just about trying to build a rapport with Ryan, trying to stop him from jumping. Joe really would like to help the boy if he could. He knew just how easy it was to take the wrong road, and if he could help to stop Ryan doing that, he would. There was hope in Ryan’s eyes. It was so alien, yet so welcome.

  ‘Really?’

  Joe nodded. ‘I hope to have my own boat before long.’

  He knew Ryan understood. He’d have his own boat by the time Ryan got out. ‘So, do you think you might come out of there? I promise I’ll do my best for you.’

  Ryan nodded. He took a couple of steps forward. Joe smiled. And then Ryan’s eyes widened, and the glimmering light of hope was gone. There was nothing but bitterness and disdain. ‘What the fuck is he doing here?’

  When Joe turned and saw Jackson, he knew the last twenty minutes had been wasted.

  ***

  Chapter 27

  Ruby’s voice made Sharon jump. She wiped tears from her eyes before she turned. The little girl sat beside her on the step. ‘Are you sad about your boys’ daddy?’

  Sharon shook her head. ‘No, I’m just missing my boys.’

  ‘I’m missing my mummy. Can I have a hug?’

  As Sharon felt Ruby’s arms wrap around her neck, she breathed in the smell and thought of her miscarriages. Surely one of them was a girl? She’d have loved a girl.

  Ruby pulled away. ‘Do you think you and Uncle Chris will have a baby? I’d like a cousin.’

  She’d fantasised about having a baby with Christopher. Her rock. Her saviour. Her two-faced, lying bastard.

  ‘I love Uncle Chris, but I don’t like Todd. He looks mean.’

  Sharon’s stomach lurched. ‘You know Todd?’

  Ruby nodded. ‘He comes here sometimes.’

  ‘Has he been here recently?’

  ‘Sometimes.’ Ruby shrugged. ‘Not too long ago. He always has dinner with us and stays downstairs in the servants’ quarters. We don’t actually have any servants. Not really. Just Aneta, the cleaner.’

  ‘And she lives downstairs?’

  ‘No, silly. No one lives there now, except Todd, when he comes.’ Her face serious, she whispered: ‘Sometimes there’s funny noises from down there. I think I heard noises today.’

  Sharon nodded. ‘I’ve just got one more call to make, Ruby. It’s quite important.’

  Ruby sighed. ‘Mummy makes important calls all the time and I have to leave the room. I’ll go to the den and watch telly.’

  The den was tiny, with bean bags and an old television. Board games, jigsaws and boxes of Lego were piled on shelves. Ruby sat on a bean bag. ‘Can I watch a DVD? Postman Pat, please.’

  The theme tune of Postman Pat brought mixed memories for Sharon. The good ones were of Liam, snuggling into her on the couch. The bad ones were of Peter mocking Ryan for watching children’s TV. What had that warped bastard done to her wee boy? And why had she let him do it?

  She could hear Ruby laughing as she sat in the next room, a massive lounge that looked to be bigger than her flat. As she waited to be connected to Joe Galbraith, she repeated what she was going to tell him, for the tenth time:

  Ryan has another phone; this is the number.

  I spoke to him yesterday and today.

  I tampered with evidence and gave Ryan’s sock to Christopher Brent the day of the shooting.

  Christopher gave the sock to Todd.

  Todd has sent pictures of the sock to Ryan.

  Christopher and Todd are in this together.

  Christopher lives at Ness Castle. This is his phone number.

  DI Galbraith wasn’t available. No, she didn’t want to speak to anyone else. She left her number for him to return her call. Then she tried Ryan again.

  *

  It wasn’t the first time Joe had suspected Jackson was on something. He wasn’t stupid enough to drink at work, but there were times when he seemed to be verging on the type of hysteria that usually came in a small tab. Like now. His hair was all over the place, and he was unshaven, eyes wired to the moon.

  Jackson’s mouth was twisted with mockery. ‘MacRae, bad hair day or what? You look like a right poofter. What you doing in there?’

  ‘What does it look like?’

  ‘You’re the jumper? Ha ha ha. The hair’s not that bad. And there’s easier ways of doing it. You could have got an overdose of smack from your junkie mother, or your dealer pal, Todd.’

  Ryan’s eyes narrowed. ‘Fuck off. You’re such a tosser.’

  ‘And you are one cheeky wee shite. I can’t think of anyone I’d rather see in there. Do the world a favour, why don’t you, and jump.’

  ‘Jackson,’ Joe said. ‘Go to the station. Now.’

  ‘That’ll be right. You think you’re going to tell me what to do, Golden Balls Galbraith? Why don’t you just get in there beside him? This world would be a whole lot better without you too.’

  ‘Jackson. The station. Now.’

  Jackson threw his head back and laughed. ‘Yes, Sir. D’you want me to crawl on my knees?’

  ‘No. I just want you to go.’ He turned back to the boy. ‘Ryan, you were going to come out of there.’


  Ryan shook his head. ‘There’s no point. I’m fucked.’

  ‘Think of your mum, Ryan.’

  Ryan shrugged. ‘She’s survived worse. Her useless mother; a whole succession of step-fathers that couldn’t keep their hands to themselves; my father. She doesn’t expect things to work out for her. That’s just the way it is.’

  Jackson’s laughter was loud and nasty. ‘Careful. My heart strings can’t take any more. Poor Sharon MacRae. Doesn’t give a shit about you, though. She spilled her guts to Golden Balls yesterday – told him she saw you getting into a big dark car with a bald driver in the Portland Street car park. Not long before Danielle was murdered. And the state you came home in – crying and throwing up. I see the scratches she mentioned on your hands, the bruising on your throat. Imagine stealing a hundred quid from your own mother. Tut tut.’

  Ryan stared at Joe. ‘Is that true? My mother told you all that?’

  Joe hesitated, then he nodded. ‘She was worried about you.’

  Jackson laughed. ‘Worried? Aye, right. Do you know what, MacRae? They’re shagging, him and her.’

  Last night, DI Black wouldn’t say which of Joe’s colleagues had reported a relationship between him and Sharon MacRae, but he’d known it could only be Jackson.

  Ryan leaned over the side of the cage, pointing his finger at Jackson. ‘Shut the fuck up, you prick. They are not shagging. He’s not that stupid, but he is a lying bastard. You all are.’

  Jackson nodded. ‘Such insight. For a rapist. A murderer.’

  Ryan shook his head and backed off. ‘I never raped or murdered anyone.’ He hitched himself up so he was sitting on the edge of the cage, with his back to the water.

  ‘So how did you get those marks? And who did that to my Danielle?’

  Joe stared at Jackson. His Danielle? Was he the Jimmy that Katya had mentioned? The policeman on the stairs with the moustache? Shit. Why hadn’t he thought of that?

  ‘I loved that girl.’ There were tears in Jackson’s eyes as he turned to Joe. ‘She’d still be here if you’d done your job properly. You should have taken her in straight away. Saved her from this fucking wee shite.’