"What about Lynn?" he said, suddenly guilty that he hadn't asked sooner.
"They're just stitching her up now. She's had a rough time. When they bring her through, she'll be tired and disorientated. She'll be upset because she won't have her baby with her. So you'll need to be strong for her."
He could remember nothing more except for the single defining moment when he'd looked into the transparent cot and met his daughter for the first time. "Can I touch her?" he'd said, awestruck. Her tiny head looked utterly vulnerable, eyes scrunched shut, threads of dark hair plastered to her scalp.
"Give her your finger to hold," the midwife instructed him.
He'd reached out tentatively, stroking the wrinkled skin on the back of her hand. Her tiny fingers opened and gripped tight. And Alex was a captive.
He had sat with Lynn until she woke, then told her about their miraculous daughter. Pale and exhausted, Lynn had wept then. "I know we agreed we were going to call her Ella, but I want to call her Davina. After Mondo," she said.
It hit him like a train. He hadn't given Mondo a thought since he'd arrived at the hospital. "Oh Jesus," he said, guilt eating into his joy. "That's a good thought. Oh, Lynn, I don't know what to say. My head's all over the place."
"You should go home. Get some sleep."
"I need to make some phone calls. Let people know."
Lynn patted his hand. "That can wait. You need to sleep. You look exhausted."
And so he had left, promising to return later. He'd got no further than the hospital entrance before realizing he didn't have the strength to make it home. Not just yet. He'd found the bench and collapsed on it, wondering how he was going to get through the next few days. He had a daughter, but his arms were still empty. He had lost another friend, and he couldn't begin to think about the implications of that. And somehow he had to find the resources to support Lynn. Until now, he'd always coasted, safe in the knowledge that Ziggy or Lynn would be there in his corner when push came to shove.
For the first time in his adult life, Alex felt horribly alone.
James Lawson heard the news of David Kerr's death as he drove to work the following morning. He couldn't resist a grim smile of satisfaction as it sank in. It had been a long time coming, but finally Barney Maclennan's killer had got what he deserved. Then his thoughts turned uneasily to Robin and the motive he'd handed him. He reached for the car phone. As soon as he arrived at headquarters, he made for the cold cases squadroom. Luckily Robin Maclennan was the only one in yet. He stood by the coffee maker, waiting for the hot water to filter through the grounds into the jug below. The machine covered Lawson's approach, and Robin jumped when his boss said abruptly, "Did you hear the news?"
"What news?"
"Davey Kerr's been murdered." Lawson narrowed his eyes as he scrutinized the detective inspector. "Last night. In his home."
Robin's eyebrows rose. "You're kidding."
"I heard it on the radio. I phoned Glasgow to double check it was our David Kerr, and lo and behold, it was."
"What happened?" Robin turned away and spooned sugar into a mug.
"At first glance, it looked like a burglary gone sour. But then they realized he had two stab wounds. Now, your average panicking burglar might strike once with a knife, but then he's going to leg it. This one made sure Davey Kerr wasn't going to stick around to tell tales."
"So what are you saying?" Robin asked, reaching for the jug of coffee.
"It's not what I'm saying, it's what Strathclyde Police are saying. They're looking at other possibilities. As they put it." Lawson waited, but Robin said nothing. "Where were you last night, Robin?"
Robin glared angrily at Lawson. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"Calm down, man. I'm not accusing you of anything. But let's face it, if anybody has a motive for killing Davey Kerr, it's you. Now, I know you wouldn't do something like that. I'm on your side. I'm just making sure you're covered, that's all." He put a reassuring hand on Robin's arm. "Are you covered?"
Robin ran a hand through his hair. "Christ, no. It was Diane's mother's birthday and she took the kids across to Grangemouth. They didn't get back till after eleven. So I was home alone." Worry creased