36

Rebecca spread the papers out on her desk, casting her gaze across the headlines. They were as bad as she feared. Link in Capital killings, Police hunt for one suspect in Edinburgh killings, Killer evades city police and, her favourite, Minister demands answers as city killer evades police.

It was inevitable really. With this level of coverage, it was only a matter of time before the politicians got involved. Especially in an election year, with the referendum aftermath still fresh in the memory and the controversy about routinely armed police officers on patrol only a Google search away.

The news websites were similarly grim reading, with the added dimension of video clips from the press conference, with Burns spluttering and stuttering after every question.

She sighed, pushed the papers aside. What the hell was Burns thinking? With all this going on, the last thing they needed was him to be ignoring a potential suspect, merely because it was Susie who had turned him up and she was in shit street with the top brass. And just what had she done in the Buchan case that pissed them off so much anyway? From what Rebecca had managed to piece together from the coverage – and what little Susie would tell her – she had faced down a gun-toting psychopath, brought in a convicted rapist who, while not guilty of murder, had notched up an impressive tally of crimes, and helped expose an MSP as a paedophile whose main form of relaxation was raping his daughter and prostitutes. All of which didn’t exactly reflect badly on the police. Doug’s follow-up – on the link between Buchan and the then-Chief Constable and a cover-up of a hit and run – wasn’t the happiest of reading, but from what Rebecca had seen, the press team at the time had managed to put the best spin they could on it… this happened years ago, the force was different then, it would never be tolerated now, any allegations will be fully investigated.

And maybe they were, but Rebecca had heard nothing else about it. So what was the nerve Susie hit? Surely they still weren’t holding a grudge about her fuck-and-forget with her former boss? Police officers could be an unforgiving, tribal bunch, but surely they weren’t going to kill her career over it.

Were they?

She looked back across the papers again, then called up the holding line she had drafted and released on the computer. Officers from Police Scotland are currently investigating the suspicious deaths of Jonathan Greig and Charles Edward Montgomery in Edinburgh. Both investigations are proceeding. As with any investigations which run parallel in a close geographic area, departments will be liaising closely to maximise local knowledge and resources to expedite the identification of any suspects. Updates will be given in due course.

She turned away from the screen in disgust. A no-comment comment, dictated by the Chief after the press conference with the grim warning that it was to be issued “word for word, comma for comma”. She checked the news agency websites and a couple of the bigger media outlets and, sure enough, they had tacked it on to the bottom of their copy. She’d be amazed if anyone read that far to be bothered by it, and it would do nothing to stem the fresh tsunami of queries she would no doubt face over the day. It was like being told to fight a fire with a water pistol.

She stood up, walked around her desk, stretching her back, which was complaining from too many hours hunched over a computer and too little relaxation. She stood at the window, looking at the TV satellite vans parked outside, dishes all swivelled to the sky expectantly. She thought briefly of Burns, sitting in his office two floors up, glaring down at the vans, no doubt blowing smoke from his cigarette at them, wishing it would choke every one of the little fuckers.

Burns. A thought flashed across her mind, like the ghost of a bright light that strobes across your vision after you’ve looked at it for too long. Burns. If he was going to put her and Susie in the shit like this, why couldn’t she do the same to him? The holding line was shit, the press would be hungry for something, anything, new. She could leak the possible suspect line, emphasise enquiries were in their early stages but a positive avenue is being explored, then hint that top brass had ignored it. It would create an unholy shitstorm, but at least it would move them away from this holding pattern, focus their minds and get Susie some of the help she needed.

Nice fantasy. Pity it wouldn’t work in practice. Burns and the Chief would know exactly who had tipped the press off, plus it could prejudice any chance of a future trial if Pearson really was involved. And, on top of all that, there had already been too many leaks.

She thought again of Doug, of last night’s conversation with Susie and the vow to let the bastard have it both barrels the next time she spoke to him. But now, in the harsh light of another morning of bad headlines and bosses breathing down her neck, Rebecca wasn’t so sure. Oh, she was certain he would leak a story if it suited him, but she couldn’t see what he got from this. She had only hinted at a link, not confirmed it, so his initial line was fairly weak to start with. His byline wasn’t on any of the copy she had seen today, except as a factual mention as being on the scene when Greig was murdered. So what did it get him? A chance to show off? Get the other reporters to dance to his tune via remote control? He had a grudge against Burns, mostly because of the way he had treated Susie, but this had just made it worse for Susie. And, if it’s a consideration, Rebecca thought, me as well.

She turned away from the window. No. Whoever had leaked this, it wasn’t Doug. Which wasn’t as comforting as it should have been. Because if he wasn’t responsible, then someone else was.

Rebecca grabbed her jacket, headed for the door. If Burns wanted her, or a reporter wanted the line again, they could get her on the phone. Right now she needed to be out, away from this claustrophobic office that seemed full of questions.

Now, she needed to go get some answers.