Blindside - By Gj Moffat Page 0,11

War Room and walked to his office at the south-west corner of the building. It was bigger than Logan’s office, but not ostentatious. He had a couch as well as a similar desk and shelving unit. His desk was covered with photographs of his wife and two girls.

He sat at the desk and lifted his phone. After a moment, he dialled Melanie Stark’s number. A man answered.

‘I’m looking for Melanie Stark,’ Cahill said.

‘This is her son. Can I help?’

Cahill thought: your mother will need your help shortly.

‘No, thanks. I need to speak to Melanie.’

‘What’s this about?’ He started to sound tense.

Cahill heard a woman’s voice in the background asking who was on the phone.

‘My name is Alex Cahill and I’m a friend of your dad. Your mom will want to speak to me, son.’

‘Hold on.’

The phone clattered down on a hard surface. Cahill pulled his own phone away from his ear at the noise. He couldn’t blame the boy for being upset – angry even. Cahill felt some of that himself.

‘Alex,’ Melanie Stark said, picking up the phone. ‘What have you heard?’

‘Does the name John Reece mean anything to you?’

Pause. ‘No. I mean, I don’t think so. I never heard it before.’

‘Never seen that name written down anywhere in the house?’

‘Alex, what’s this about? Does this man Reece have anything to do with what Tim’s caught up in?’

‘Sort of.’

‘Alex …’ She knew that he was stalling.

‘Melanie …’

Always the bad news is preceded by the name, spoken softly. Like it helps.

‘No …’

‘I can’t be totally certain, but the information I have makes me believe that Tim was on that flight out of Denver.’

No sound this time.

‘I’m so sorry, Melanie. I really am.’

He could hear the scream starting way down inside her, rising up from a place so deep inside that no person should ever have to know the pain it brought as it burst up and out. Cahill had heard it before. Too many times.

‘If it helps,’ Cahill said, ‘I can’t believe that Tim was involved in something illegal. That’s not the Tim I knew.’

He knew he’d said it already today, but what else was there to say?

‘Are … you … sure?’ She was barely able to get the word out between sobs.

‘As sure as I can be. He was on that plane when it went down.’

‘I can’t …’

The line disconnected.

Cahill stood and went to the window, looking down at the people passing by outside.

What were you doing on that plane, Tim?

12

Irvine found DS Ewen Cameron when she got back to Pitt Street from the riverside. She explained that she had to go to a briefing on a new case and that she didn’t know how long it would be. He didn’t seem too bothered, his head buried in a mountain of paperwork that was expanding on a daily basis.

Kenny Armstrong headed off to find the senior SCDEA guys. They had called to say the briefing was already set up somewhere in the building.

Irvine didn’t want to hold things up, but she was keen to get a head start on the inquiry: knew that the first couple of days were crucial in solving any murder. She called the mortuary to find out about the post-mortem and was told that it was scheduled for tomorrow.

After that she called the CCTV ops room down at the Fruitmarket and spoke to someone about getting the recordings for the last few days sent over to see if they could track the girl’s movements in the city centre. They said they’d do what they could, but they were short staffed this week.

Armstrong came into the room and waved at her to come over.

‘They’re all set upstairs,’ he said.

‘Okay. Can we hold for another couple of minutes? I want to check in with DS Murphy, our crime scene guy.’

‘You go see him and I’ll tell my guys to wait. We’re on the second floor, last door on the left.’

‘I’ll walk up with you. Murphy’s on the same floor.’

Jim Murphy stared at Irvine over rectangular glasses that had slipped down his nose, a heavy fringe flopping down on to his forehead. He reminded Irvine of her old history teacher, sitting there in his black V-neck with a white shirt and paisley-patterned tie.

‘The floater?’ he asked as she reached his desk.

She nodded.

‘I got nothing for you yet. Still waiting for the lab geeks upstairs to let me know what they collected at the locus.’

‘Okay. Let me know when you do get anything.’

Irvine knew that Murphy could be ponderous and