63

“Doug? Doug, where the fuck are you?”

Doug flicked the wheel to the right, hammered down on the accelerator as he shot past a lorry. “I’m heading down the road now, Susie, should be there soon.”

“Are you okay? Burns is going fucking mental here. He’s threatening to put an arrest warrant out for you for fleeing the scene of a crime. What the fuck happened up there?”

“Long story,” Doug said, speeding up for another overtake. There was a sharp turn coming, but he thought he could make it. “I promise I’ll give you a full statement when I get back, okay?”

“No, not okay,” Susie hissed. “You’ve not returned my calls, we find out that you’re at the scene when a suspect wanted for three murders kills himself, that your old boss is tied up in all of this somehow, and you want me to wait? You ever think we might be worried about you, Doug? What the hell is going on?”

We? He pushed the thought aside.

“Look, Susie, you know most of it. Pearson killed Greig and Montgomery, Harvey is tied up in all of it. I’m just finishing up the background now, which is why I called you.”

“Oh?” Her voice was heavy with warning. Don’t fuck with me, Doug, the tone said.

He ignored it. “Yeah. Look, I’ve been digging around in Pearson’s background. Seems he was vaguely connected to Stevie Leith and a small-time dealer called Paul Welsh. Rab told me about what happened with them this morning. Anything you can add?”

Susie bit down on her anger, which was battling with relief for supremacy. Little shit. He ignored calls for almost a day, then gets in touch when it suits him, looking for help with background for his story? Fuck that.

“Look, Doug, I’m not going to help you with a story at the moment,” she said. “I’m up to my neck in this case, and I need you to give me a statement now. You can come to the station and see me when you get back.”

“I’m not doing this for a story, Susie,” he said, the emptiness in his voice giving her an icy jolt. “I can’t write this one. But I’ve seen too much. I just need to know. Please.”

She sighed. Emotional blackmail. Classic Doug. And classic Susie for falling for it.

“Well, if you’ve heard the story from Rab, I’m not sure how much more I can add,” she snapped. “Neighbours called officers to Stevie Leith’s flat this morning. They forced the door, found Stevie unconscious and this kid Welsh with a syringe full of heroin sticking out of his eye. Little shit was lucky Stevie didn’t push down the plunger.”

“Any indication why they got into it?” Doug asked, the engine roaring in the background as he spoke.

“Why do druggies always fall out?” Susie said, suddenly tired. “Money, product, something like that. There may be another suspect, though; Welsh kept going on about someone called Frankie.”

The line fell into silence, only the dull wash of static in Susie’s ear. Then, she heard Doug’s voice. Flat, almost atonal. All too similar to the voice she had heard that first night after Greig’s murder when he had come to her flat.

“Motherfucker,” he said.

“Doug? Doug, what? This mean something to you? What?”

“Nothing, nothing,” he said, distracted. It was obvious he wasn’t focusing on her anymore. “Just something I should have seen a lot fucking sooner. Fucking idiot. What a fucking idiot.”

“Doug, what? I really need…”

The focus snapped back into his voice. “Susie, it’s fine. Sorry for bothering you. And thanks. I’ll come to the station as soon as I get back. Promise. See you soon.”

He clicked off before she could protest, bore down on the steering wheel and floored the accelerator, watching the speedo creep up past seventy, eighty, ninety.

He looked at his knuckles, bones glowing through the skin as he gripped the steering wheel and cursed softly. He was wrong, they all were. All the pieces were there, all the hints, even with Harvey trying to muddy the waters.

He flicked on the phone, selected a secure website. Waited for it to load, cursing the slow connection, then gave his access code and logged in. Keyed in his request, got what he needed. Mapped out the route in his head. Turned back to the road and drove faster, willing the car to its destination.