With her car still impounded by the police as evidence, Donna was using taxis to get about, putting them on her credit card and hoping she could blag either Gina or Sky to foot the expenses bill. It was a risk, she thought, especially with money being so tight, but one worth taking.
It paid off when Anderson led her to his car, which was parked just around the corner from Christopher Russell’s house. Donna was no car expert, but she knew an expensive motor when she saw it. It was a coupé, slung low to the ground. The man didn’t say a word, just plipped off the alarm and swung the passenger door open.
‘If you don’t want to accept a ride from a stranger you just met who, incidentally, you suspect of masquerading as someone he’s not, you’re welcome to walk,’ he said. ‘But I’m heading back into town. Offer of the lift is there.’
She studied him for a moment, calculating. He was a big guy, heavy-featured but not in a thuggish way, bright green eyes that flitted around, taking everything in, only coming to rest on her face when he spoke to her. Smart-casual in a suit that was two pay grades above any CID officer she had ever met, expensive car – no way he was the copper he was pretending to be. So who was he, and was he a threat?
Anderson shrugged. ‘Suit yourself,’ he said, reaching into his pocket and producing a business card. ‘Look, Ms Blake, you’ve obviously figured out I’m not with the police. Fine. After your ordeal last night, I can’t blame you for being wary of strangers. So here’s my card. Give me a call if you want to talk, okay?’
He passed it to her, then tracked round to the driver’s side of the car and folded himself in. Donna glanced at the card. Connor Fraser, Close Protection Consultant, Sentinel Securities.
Interesting.
She let the engine start, a low, throaty burbling that promised speed, before she made her decision. She looked at the card again, then stepped forward even as she rooted around in her bag, swung the passenger door open and got in. ‘All right,’ she said, dropping into a leather seat more comfortable than her sofa. ‘Drive, Mr Fraser. But if you try any crap, I’ll use this.’
She brandished a small cylinder at him, about half the size of a can of deodorant, white body with a black lid. Pepper spray. She’d bought it online after seeing a reporter get harassed when he was trying for an interview with a suspected child-porn dealer at a court hearing. Best to be prepared.
Fraser looked at the can, and Donna felt a moment of absurd humour as she saw a smile crinkle the lines around his eyes. ‘Fair enough,’ he said, putting the car in gear. He hit the accelerator, pinning her back in her seat, the pepper spray rising up to point at the roof as she fought for balance. Her Caesarean scar gave a dull howl of protest. ‘Sorry,’ he said.
He didn’t say much else as he drove, just concentrated on guiding the car back into town. Donna felt her patience fray, then snap. Fine. She would play along. For now.
‘So, who exactly are you, Mr Fraser? And why is a “close protection consultant” poking around a murder case?’
His eyes darted from the road to her, then back. ‘Let’s just say I’ve got a professional interest in the case,’ he said. ‘And since you seem to have the inside track on what’s happening, maybe we can help each other.’
She wondered about that. No way this man would go on the record, let alone on camera. So how could he help her? And why should she help him? ‘What is it you think I can do for you?’ she said, the CS spray feeling cold and somehow fragile in her hands.
‘You said you found Matt Evans’s body this morning, that it was left at your car. I know that the first body was also beheaded, so I think there’s a link. Question is, what is it – and were you deliberately targeted?’
A shudder forced her to move in her seat, the leather creaking under her. Memories of Matt Evans rose in her mind, threatening to overtake her. ‘How did you know the first body had been decapitated?’ she said. ‘The police convinced me not to reveal that in my report.’
‘I guessed they’d do that,’ Connor replied. ‘They would have wanted to keep that back to weed out any crank calls or false confessions. But you knew it, just like my contact did. Tells me two things.’
‘Oh, what’s that?’
‘First, you’re not just a hack. You play by the rules, even if you push them a bit. Second, you’ve got good sources. And that might come in handy.’
Frustration burnt Donna’s cheeks. Was that it? Was he just another Mark, ready to use her for what he needed? No way. ‘Look, Mr Fraser, if you think I’m just going to tell you what I know and then—’
‘I don’t think anything of the kind,’ he said, as he eased the car to a halt at a set of traffic lights. ‘You obviously have sources. I’m saying I can be one for you too, maybe give you something to keep you ahead of the press on this. But in return, I need you to help me answer a few questions.’
She studied him for a moment, his patient eyes on her. They didn’t waver, didn’t roam to her chest or down to her legs, just stayed locked on her face. No aggression, no demands. He’d stated his terms. The decision on what happened next was hers.
‘Right,’ she said. ‘But forget the coffee. Can you get me to the police station on St Ninians? They’re giving a press conference there shortly. We can talk as you drive.’
‘Fair enough,’ Fraser replied, slipped the car into first and drove away.