Kate drove while Clare called the officer on duty at Nat Dryden’s bedside. ‘Advise him to have a solicitor there this afternoon. Let’s say two o’clock? He’ll be questioned in connection with possible criminal charges.’
The call made, she sat back and chatted to Kate. ‘Tell me about the girl we’re going to see.’
‘Jasmine Greene. She must be nearly fifteen now,’ Kate said. ‘In and out of care most of her life. Fostered a couple of times but mostly in residential care. She can be a bit of a handful. Not surprising, really. Mother died of a heroin overdose when she was five or six. Jasmine was found alone with the mother’s body. Needles all over the place.’
Clare shook her head at this grim picture. ‘Is she likely to co-operate?’
‘Yeah, I think so. She’s a nice kid, once you scrape away the tough veneer.’
They drove on in silence past fields, slowing down as they entered Cupar. The town was bustling with cars and shoppers but soon the narrow street broadened out and they drove past school and college buildings before reaching farmland again. A few miles on, a flat-roofed modern building in honey-coloured brick appeared. Kate pulled off the road and into a car park. They were buzzed in by a young woman in a Laura Ashley-type dress who Clare thought was probably in her late twenties.
She introduced herself as Miranda. ‘Jasmine knows you’re coming but I’ve not explained why.’
Clare thanked her. A young girl with pierced eyebrows was hanging about, twisting a strand of hair in her fingers.
Miranda called her over. ‘Can you ask Jasmine to come to my office?’
The girl eyed Clare and Kate, then turned without response and disappeared. Miranda led them into a small office. It was sparsely furnished with a desk, a stack of bucket chairs and a grey metal filing cabinet. The desk was an old L-shaped one with a trio of filing trays at one end and the obligatory computer in the centre. Miranda moved the monitor to the side and set out the chairs. A few minutes later the door opened and a girl in her mid-teens came in, her eyes flicking between the three women. Clare recognised her from the photographs and she felt a lump in her throat. This wasn’t just a sulky-faced teenager. This was a girl who was suffering systematic abuse. Right now in 2019. Why the hell was this still happening? She smiled at the girl but the smile wasn’t returned.
‘Jas,’ Miranda began, ‘these officers are from St Andrews and would like to ask you some questions. Now, you’re not in any trouble and nothing you say will result in anything happening to you. So please be truthful and tell them everything you know.’
Jasmine said nothing but eyed Clare with suspicion. Kate gave her a friendly smile.
‘Remember me, Jas?’
Jasmine nodded.
‘This is Clare,’ Kate went on. ‘She’s the DI at St Andrews and you can trust her.’
Clare took over. ‘Jasmine, we believe you might have been forced into some sexual activity with older men. Now, if that’s true then you won’t be in any trouble at all. Quite the reverse. We’ll give you all the help and support you need. But those men… well, they’ll be in a lot of trouble. Do you understand?’
Jasmine eyed Miranda who gave her an encouraging smile.
Jasmine turned back to Clare. ‘Yeah.’
‘Can I ask if you go out regularly? In the evenings?’
Jasmine looked at Miranda who smiled. ‘Go on, Jas.’
‘Can I have a fag?’
Miranda laughed. ‘Not indoors. You know the rules. Maybe after.’
Jasmine looked back at Clare. ‘Thursdays. We go out on Thursdays.’
Miranda frowned. ‘But surely that’s your gym night, Jas?’
Jasmine wouldn’t look at her. ‘It was to start with. Then she said did we fancy a bit of extra cash. Good money, yeah?’
‘She?’ Miranda was dumbfounded. ‘You don’t mean Mrs…’
‘Yeah, her. That Jennifer woman.’
Clare looked at Miranda. ‘Jennifer?’
‘Gilmartin. Jennifer Gilmartin. She takes an interest in the youngsters. She’s been so kind. Organising a minibus to take them swimming, to the gym.’ She put her hand to her mouth. ‘Oh my God. What have we done?’
Clare took out her phone and opened Google. She typed ‘Jennifer Gilmartin’ into the image search. The first result was a photo of Jennifer and Bruce at a brewers’ dinner.
She showed the photo to Jasmine. ‘Is that the lady, Jasmine?’
‘Yeah. And him. She took us in the minibus and he was there. We did stuff with him. Sex and that.’
The colour drained from Miranda’s face. ‘Jas, why did you do it? Did you not feel you could come and tell me?’
Jasmine shrugged. ‘Dunno. We got money, nice food and that. I’ve had worse.’
Miranda sank back in her seat, lost for words.
Clare asked Kate to take Jasmine through the photographs and excused herself to call Chris.
‘Get over to Jennifer Gilmartin’s house and bring her in,’ she said. ‘Tell her nothing. Just that we need to speak to her in connection with enquiries. She’s up to her neck in it.’
When Clare returned to the room Kate had the photographs divided into two piles.
‘These are the men Jasmine has identified as taking part in the Thursday evening parties, as they were called.’
Clare leafed through them. They were all there, including Edward Collinson. ‘Yes,’ she said under her breath. ‘Jasmine, you are absolutely sure about these photos?’
‘Yeah. Been there loads of times.’
‘And Jennifer Gilmartin took you in a minibus?’
‘Yeah. It’s in the countryside so she drove us.’
‘Did you notice where you were going?’
‘Uh-huh. That castle on the Tayport Road. Mort something. Take you there if you like.’
‘You’re very observant, Jasmine. Are you sure that’s where it was?’
‘Oh yeah. I was fostered in Tayport for a bit. Used to pass it in the car. Always wondered what it was like. Dead fancy inside.’ She jabbed a finger at the photo of Edward Collinson. ‘It’s his place. He’s loaded!’
Clare tried not to let her excitement show. ‘We may need you to give evidence, Jasmine. But it would be by video-link. You wouldn’t have to see anyone.’ She decided not to tell Jasmine that only two of the men were still alive at this stage.
‘Yeah, fine. Can I have that fag now?’
‘Just one more thing, Jasmine. Can you tell us who the others were?’
‘The other kids?’
‘Yes.’
‘Yeah. Miranda knows. All of us who went with Jennifer.’
Miranda looked shocked. ‘All of you? The boys as well?’
Jasmine shrugged. ‘Yeah,’ then she said, ‘fag?’
Miranda reached into her desk drawer and took out a packet of cigarettes. She took one out and handed it to Jasmine. The girl rose to leave.
‘Jasmine, just one thing,’ Clare said, ‘Please don’t mention this to anyone. It’s very important this doesn’t leak out to the press. If that happened these men could claim they wouldn’t have a fair trial. We need to play this by the book, yeah?’
Jasmine nodded and left the room. Miranda looked close to tears.
‘She’s such a nice lady, Jennifer. I really trusted her…’
Clare called DCI Gibson while Kate prepared a statement for Jasmine to sign. ‘Just taking a statement, sir,’ she said. ‘Should be back within the hour. But there’s something I need to tell you.’
‘Yes?’
Clare told him about Jennifer Gilmartin. ‘Chris should be bringing her in any time now. I thought you should know.’
There was an uncomfortable pause before the DCI replied. ‘You’re sure about this, Inspector?’ His voice was hoarse.
‘Afraid so, sir. One of the youngsters named her, and the duty officer at the home confirmed Mrs Gilmartin takes a minibus of youngsters out every Thursday. She thought they were being taken to the gym.’
The DCI was about to reply when Clare heard a volley of barking over the phone.
‘Is that Chris back with Mrs Gilmartin?’ she asked the DCI.
‘Hold on,’ he said.
Clare waited and a few minutes later she heard his voice again. ‘She’s gone, dammit. Must have been tipped off. Car gone and a note for the cleaning lady saying she’d be gone for a few weeks and to feed and walk the dog. DS West has brought the dog back.’
‘Can I speak to Chris, sir?’
‘Just a minute…’
When she heard Chris’s voice she spoke quickly. ‘Get her car registration to the ANPR database. I want her flagged up as soon as she passes a camera. Who the hell tipped her off?’
‘Already done, boss. No idea how she knew, though.’
‘Leave it with me.’
Clare rang off and glared at Miranda. ‘Is there any way you or anyone else here could have alerted Mrs Gilmartin that we were on our way here?’
‘Definitely not. There’s only me here today and I didn’t tell anyone why you were coming.’
‘Any of the kids around when you took Kate’s call?’
Miranda shook her head. ‘I’m fairly sure they weren’t. They would only have heard my side of the conversation anyway.’
Clare’s mind was in a whirl. ‘What about Jasmine? Could she have phoned her? Misplaced loyalty?’
‘I doubt it but I’ll give her a shout.’
Jasmine denied it. ‘I don’t care if she goes to jail. Serves her right. Perv.’
‘Phone please, Jas.’ Miranda held out her hand.
Jasmine scowled but handed the phone over. ‘I didn’t call her. You’ll see.’
Miranda scrolled to Jasmine’s call record. ‘Nothing here, although you could have deleted it.’
Clare interrupted. ‘Jasmine, we can check your call records with the phone company so, if you did phone Mrs Gilmartin, you might as well tell us now. You won’t be in trouble. I just need to know.’
‘I didn’t call her!’ Jasmine stuck her chin out. ‘Check all you like.’
Clare nodded. ‘Okay. Thanks, Jasmine. We’ll be in touch.’ She looked at Kate. ‘Better get back.’
Kate rose, thanked Miranda and the pair left. As they drove back, Clare ran over the events of the past twelve hours in her head. Who could have alerted Jennifer Gilmartin?
She took out her phone again. ‘Chris? Can you get a hold of Jennifer Gilmartin’s mobile number please? The boss should have it. I need her call records from the phone company. The last twenty-four hours. Then get phone numbers for Fergus, Nat Dryden and Edward Collinson. Compare them to see if there were any calls or texts between them since Collinson was stopped last night. Top priority. Get the Vice guys to help if there are any spare.’
‘Will do. Anything else?’
‘Not that I can think of, just now at least. I need to order my thoughts. Any sign of her car?’
‘Not yet. But it should turn up.’
‘Okay, thanks. With you in twenty minutes.’
As Clare entered the station, Benjy, who had taken up residence in his usual spot on the front desk, leapt off and bounded towards her. She scooped him up, grateful for the welcome, then returned him to his perch on the counter.
‘No sign of Jennifer Gilmartin yet, boss,’ Chris said. ‘The Vice guys are working their way through the phone numbers for us.’
At that, one of them shouted. ‘Got a match. Text message just before nine this morning.’
‘From?’
‘Mobile registered to a Mr Edward Collinson.’
Clare thumped the counter, making Benjy growl. ‘Got you, you bastard. Can you print those records out for me, please?’
Five minutes later, Clare was seated in the interview room again with Edward Collinson and his solicitor. She put the sheaf of phone records out on the desk in front of them.
‘This document,’ she began, indicating the top sheet, ‘shows the record of calls and text messages sent from your mobile phone in the last twenty-four hours. You’ll see I’ve highlighted one of the entries.’
Edward Collinson glanced down and feigned an air of disinterest.
Clare moved the page to the side and indicated the next sheet. ‘And this one indicates messages received by a mobile phone registered to Mrs Jennifer Gilmartin. Jennifer Gilmartin is married to Bruce Gilmartin, who you said you may have met but did not know.’
The solicitor was looking at his client, a hint of concern on his face. ‘May I ask, Inspector, where this is leading?’
‘These records show that your client sent a text message to Jennifer Gilmartin this morning just before nine o’clock. If you recall, at nine this morning your client was here on a voluntary basis and would still have had possession of his mobile phone.’
‘And?’
‘And he sent a text message to a person he is on record as saying he does not know.’
‘I’m sure my client must have made an error, Inspector. It’s easy to type the wrong number isn’t it?’
‘Perhaps then Mr Collinson would let us know who he meant to text? Then we can check the number.’
Edward Collinson waved this away. ‘With everything that’s going on, Inspector, I can’t possibly remember. Have you any idea how distressing this whole business has been for me?’
Clare ignored this. She stacked the sheets of paper neatly and put them to one side. Then she looked levelly at Edward Collinson. ‘We believe Mrs Gilmartin is involved in procuring youngsters for the purposes of sexual exploitation. We also have a witness who will positively identify you as participating in sexual activities with minors. Repeatedly.’
He snorted. ‘Some girl who’d say anything for a packet of fags?’
‘What makes you think it’s a girl, sir?’
He saw his mistake and tried to rescue the situation. ‘Well, it was you who mentioned minors. I just assumed you meant girls…’
Clare rose. ‘I can assure you, sir, that the witness was interviewed correctly, in the presence of two police officers and an independent third person, and that your photograph was positively identified from a selection of more than twenty photos. A statement has been taken and we will be charging you with offences in relation to that statement. And now, sir, perhaps you would like to speak with your solicitor alone.’
DCI Gibson was relieved to hear they had enough to charge Edward Collinson. ‘He’d have made one hell of a stink if we’d had to let him go.’
‘He’s as guilty as sin, sir,’ said Clare. ‘If Nat Dryden also identifies him then we’re home and dry. I’ll see to it that he goes away for a good long stretch.’
‘And Fergus Bain?’
‘Struggling with him, to be honest, sir. He’s confessed to the murders of Bruce Gilmartin and the professor and the attempted murder of Pam last night. But I doubt we’ll get him on conspiracy to murder the other two unless we can find the accomplice. We could try, but I’m not convinced the fiscal would take it to court. Even then we might not get a conviction. Might be the best we can do.’
‘What about the accomplice? Any luck with Garthley House?’
‘Chris was working on it but he left off to go over to the Gilmartins’. Connor, Steve and Phil are here now, though, and in touch with Social Work. It won’t be a quick job but they’ll keep at it till we get a result. Or not…’
‘And Mr Dryden?’
‘I’ve sent a message to him to have a solicitor there at two this afternoon so we can take a formal statement. Chris will come with me.’
‘Okay, Inspector. Let me know if you have any problems.’
Clare hesitated. ‘You know, sir, speaking to Fergus about his own experiences at the home – I kind of understand his actions. It’s pretty desperate stuff. He must be so damaged.’
‘We can’t think like that, Inspector. We’re here to prosecute where we see illegality. The rest is up to the courts.’
‘I suppose.’ Clare left his office went to the incident room. It was empty and she sat down for a minute. She was bone tired and her ears hurt. She longed for this investigation to be over.
‘Not there yet, though,’ she said to herself.
Chris poked his head round the door.
‘We’re due up at Ninewells in just over an hour to see Nat Dryden. Fancy a quick bite of lunch first?’
‘That’s an excellent idea, DS West.’
‘I’ve been known to have them.’
Nat Dryden was sitting up in a chair when Clare and Chris entered. Clare tried to avoid looking at the space where his leg would have been, smiling instead at a smart woman in a dark suit.
‘My solicitor,’ said Nat. ‘Valerie Grimmond.’
Clare shook hands with the solicitor then sat down beside the bed. She looked at Nat and her mind involuntarily flicked back to the photos he had appeared in. She thought of Jasmine, stony-faced, apparently immune to her experiences. Only concerned about getting a fag from Miranda. And this shadow of a man sitting before her, one leg missing, bruised, battered and hooked up to monitors – this man was one of Jasmine’s abusers. Remember that, Clare. Remember what he’s done. And then she thought of Fergus. His life in ruins. Ruined from the day he first entered Garthley House. And these men – men like Nat with their perverse appetites – these men were ruining more lives every single day; boys like Fergus, girls like Jasmine. She looked at him and fought back the contempt she felt. This interview was vital. She mustn’t blow it.
‘Nat,’ she began, ‘I’m going to caution and charge you formally today. I’ll be taping this interview. If, at any time, you feel unwell or need to take a break we’ll be happy to do so. I would also say that any assistance you can give us will be noted, should you be sentenced in court.’
Nat glanced at his solicitor, who said, ‘That’s fine, Inspector. Please go ahead.’
The interview was as short as Clare could make it. Nat understood the charges relating to sexual conduct with a minor and, on the advice of his solicitor, made no response. But when Clare asked him to identify the other men present at the parties, he said he couldn’t help.
‘We were all known by numbers. The idea was the less we knew about each other the safer the whole thing would be. I was number three. Maybe the others knew names but I didn’t.’
Clare removed a sheaf of photos from her bag and asked if Nat could identify any of the men in them. He quickly identified Bruce Gilmartin.
‘He was number four,’ he said, handing back the photo.
And when he was shown the photo of Andy Robb he identified him as number five. Predictably, the professor was number two. Clare then handed him the photo of Edward Collinson. Her palms were damp. So much was riding on this. They had Jasmine’s evidence but there was no way of telling how she might react to questions from a skilled defence advocate.
Nat looked long and hard at the photo.
He doesn’t know him. Of all the photos we needed a positive ID on, he doesn’t know this one.
After some moments, he handed back the photo and met her gaze. He didn’t speak for a few seconds then he cleared his throat and began. ‘He was the one who worried me. I mean, really worried me. The rest of us, we were all up for a bit of sex with the girls. I mean, they were under age, but not by so much. Hard to tell these days with some of them. I didn’t want the really young ones. Fourteen, fifteen – that was okay. But him… He liked them really young. Boys and girls.’
Clare looked levelly at him. ‘Nat, for the tape, can you please say if you can identify the man in this photo? I am showing Mr Dryden photo number forty-five.’
‘Absolutely. This man owned the house where we met. The house was between Tayport and St Mike’s junction. He was at all the parties, took photos and he engaged fully in sex with minors. The younger the better.’
Nat’s hands were shaking. Clare looked at his solicitor. The colour had drained from her face.
The solicitor cleared her throat. ‘Perhaps, Inspector, you have all you need? I think my client should rest now.’
Clare nodded. ‘Thank you, Mr Dryden. You have helped us a great deal.’
Nat looked away, drawing a hand across his eyes. Clare rose from her seat and nodded at Chris to follow her. He was staring at Nat and she tugged his sleeve. ‘Come on, Chris. Let’s get out of here. Let’s get some fresh air.’
They drove back to St Andrews in silence. At length, Chris said, ‘Do you think you ever get used to that? Dealing with folk like him?’
‘Probably not.’
They lapsed into silence again.
Then Clare said, ‘We need to get statements from the other girls over at the home.’ She glanced at Chris. ‘I’ll get Vice to do it. Think we’ve both had enough for one day.’
Her phone rang.
‘See who that is, would you?’ she said to Chris.
‘Don’t recognise the number.’
‘Let it go to voicemail. Whatever it is, it’ll keep.’
They were driving over the Tay Road Bridge when the phone rang again.
‘It’s Jim,’ Chris said.
‘Take it, would you?’
Chris answered the call and after a few minutes hung up.
‘Jennifer Gilmartin’s car popped up on the M90 heading for the Queensferry Crossing.’
‘Airport?’
‘Possibly. We’ll know soon. She’ll be pinging every ANPR on the motorway.’
‘Notify traffic in Edinburgh. We want her stopped. Also, get on to the airport. Glasgow airport too. If she tries to get through passport control they can pick her up. And notify car hire companies at both airports. She’s not daft so let’s try to cover all possible options.’