As she left the motorway at Halbeath, the fuel warning light appeared on her dashboard. Rationally, she knew she had more than enough petrol to get her to Kirkcaldy and back again, but she wasn't taking any chances with the baby on board. She flicked the indicator at the turn-off for the services and cruised down to the pumps, entirely oblivious to the car that had been on her tail since she'd left North Queensferry.
Lynn fueled up the car, then hurried inside to pay. As she waited for her credit card to be accepted, she glanced out to the forecourt.
At first, she couldn't take it in. The scene outside was wrong, all wrong. Then it sank in. Lynn screamed at the top of her lungs and stumbled toward the door, her bag hitting the floor and scattering its contents as she ran.
A silver VW Golf was parked behind her car, engine running, driver's door wide open. The passenger door of her car was also ajar, shielding whoever was leaning in from sight. As she hauled open the heavy door of the service area, a man straightened up, thick black hair falling over his eyes. He was clutching Davina's carrier. He cast a glance in her direction then ran for the other car. Davina's shrieks pierced the air like a blade.
He half-threw, half-pushed the baby carrier into his passenger seat, then jumped in. Lynn was almost upon him. He slammed the car into gear and took off, his tires screaming on the tarmac.
Indifferent to the pain from her half-healed scar, Lynn threw herself at the wildly swerving Golf as it careered past her. But her desperate fingers connected with nothing they could cling to, and her momentum carried her forward on to her knees. "No," she screamed, banging her fists on the ground. "No." She tried to stand up, to get to her car, to give chase. But her legs wouldn't hold her and she collapsed on the ground, anguish wracking her.
Exultation swelled inside Graham Macfadyen as he hammered along the A92 away from the Halbeath services. He'd done it. He had the baby. He snatched a quick look, making sure it was OK. It had stopped that banshee screaming as soon as they'd hit the dual carriageway. He'd heard babies liked the sensation of being driven in a car, and this one certainly seemed to. Its blue eyes looked up at him, uncurious and calm. At the end of the dual carriageway, he'd cut off onto back roads, to avoid the police. He'd stop then and strap it in properly. He didn't want anything bad to happen to it yet. It was Alex Gilbey he wanted to punish, and the longer the baby was alive and apparently well, the worse his suffering would be. He'd keep the baby hostage for just as long as it was of use to him.
It had been laughably easy. People really should take better care of their children. It was astonishing that more of them didn't fall into the hands of strangers.
This would make people listen to him, he thought. He'd take the baby home and lock the doors. A siege, that's what it would be. The media would turn up mob-handed and he'd have the chance to explain why he'd been forced to take such extreme action. When they heard how Fife Police were shielding his mother's killers, they'd understand why he'd been driven to something so out of character. And if that still didn't work, well, he had one final card to play. He glanced down at the drowsy baby.
Lawson was going to regret not listening to him.
Chapter 42
Alex had left the motorway at Kinross. He'd driven through the quiet market town and out the far side, heading toward Loch Leven. When she'd let slip that Lawson was off fishing, Karen Pirie had said "Loch" before she stopped herself. And there was only one loch in Fife where a serious fisherman would ply his rod. Alex couldn't stop thinking about his recent revelation. Because he knew deep down none of them had done it, and because he couldn't imagine Rosie wandering around in a blizzard alone, easy prey for a stranger, he'd always tended to believe she'd been killed by her mystery boyfriend. And if you were planning to seduce a lassie, you didn't take her to a shed or a garage. You took her to the place where you lived. And then he'd remembered