McNab and Danny had adjourned to the nearby student cafeteria.
McNab’s impression that Danny, in his quest to nail his sister’s killers, hadn’t been able to work and therefore had no money for food, was proved right. When McNab came back with two coffees plus two of the largest burgers on offer, Danny attacked his with a vengeance.
McNab was hungry too, but for inspiration rather than food.
He was more studied in his eating while he tried to work out what to do next. The most obvious move was to inform the boss about this latest development, although that in itself would not produce a lead on where to look for Freya. He could ask DI Wilson to send a uniform round to her flat and to force entry if necessary.
Something ice cold attacked the pit of his stomach at this thought. He quashed it, because he already knew she hadn’t been there when Danny visited as she’d been with Rhona in Leila’s flat.
His next and better move would be to eat humble pie and contact Rhona. She’d been the last person to see Freya and would know her state of mind. She might also have an idea where Freya would go if not to the library.
Both moves were required. One would be easier than the other.
McNab chose the easy one first.
The boss listened quietly, then agreed to have someone sent round to Freya’s flat.
‘You believe this book Leila left is important?’
‘Who knows? It’s Wiccan stuff, but Danny says it holds information on the men involved with Leila. I’ll have to take his word for that because I haven’t seen it.’ McNab wanted to make sure the boss knew he hadn’t been withholding information this time round.
The boss rang off then, with strict instructions to McNab that he was to be kept informed on the search for Freya.
McNab couldn’t stomach the rest of his burger. When Danny realized this he asked if he could have it.
‘Go ahead. Take the chips too.’ McNab pushed the plate across. ‘I’m going outside to make a call.’ The last thing he wanted was for Danny to be party to his next conversation.
She had come here as though it were a place of refuge. Maybe it was. Her reason for coming was more complicated than a way to spend leisure time or even a love of jazz, which she didn’t possess.
She fully understood McNab’s anger and vexation, and why he’d voiced it, some would say truthfully, over the phone. She too was concerned about Freya’s well-being, which was why she’d agreed to take her to Leila’s flat.
It hadn’t worked, but it had been worth a try.
Now, Rhona decided, she would await news and have a drink.
She ordered white wine and took a seat at the bar. Sam was doing a stint serving, having played earlier. Chrissy, he informed Rhona, was staying over at her mother’s with young Michael. He sounded sorry about that and Rhona sensed an end in sight for that relationship, despite their mutual love for McNab’s namesake.
At that moment the end of any relationship seemed almost inevitable.
She hadn’t sought Sean but he found her anyway, news of her arrival having travelled swiftly to the boss of the establishment.
‘It’s quieter in the office,’ he offered.
Rhona wasn’t in the mood for a get-together, a dark impenetrable cloud having descended on her thoughts, but rather than argue, she followed him through. Sean ushered her inside, closed the door behind them and turned the key.
‘We need to talk,’ was his explanation for that.
Rhona spied the two glasses and bottle of whiskey on the desk, and interpreted Sean’s remark and the evidence of a drinking buddy in the same scenario.
‘McNab’s been here?’ she said.
‘Briefly.’
‘How brief?’
‘One drink’s worth,’ Sean said. ‘He told me you fell out.’
‘That’s an understatement.’
‘He said some bad things?’
‘Bad, but truthful. As did I,’ Rhona admitted.
‘He seemed very worried about Freya.’
‘She was with me earlier at Leila’s flat, which he didn’t like. I went out to get us some coffee. When I got back, she’d disappeared. The message said she’d gone back to the library.’
‘Where he was heading when I saw him.’
‘If he was in a hurry, why stop for a drink?’ Rhona said.
‘You’re worried, and you came here for one.’
‘Piss off.’
‘If you want me to.’
There was no point taking her frustration out on Sean. It wasn’t his fault. She said so.
‘It is possible to have a personal life outside work,’ Sean declared firmly.
‘Do you really believe that?’ she said, her cynicism obvious.
‘I do, although I know you and McNab don’t.’
‘The Irish have a fine way with words,’ Rhona countered.
‘Exactly what McNab said. You’re more alike than you’re prepared to admit.’
Rhona was grateful when her mobile rang. Despite Sean’s look suggesting she ignore it, she answered, even though it was McNab’s name on the screen.
‘She’s not at the library and neither is Grant Buchanan, the guy in charge of the Ferguson collection. Apparently he checked out a book earlier on runic scripts in Witchcraft.’
Rhona could taste McNab’s concern. What he really wanted to ask her was where the hell they had gone to study it. A question she might be able to answer.
‘Freya has a key to the old Ferguson collection library. She took it from Shannon’s desk. There were two keys. One for Leila’s altar in the Lion Chambers. The other to the old library.’
‘You think she’s there?’ McNab said eagerly.
‘It’s a possibility,’ Rhona said.
‘Where is it?’
‘Somewhere in the main building. That’s all I know.’