elderly couple who lived opposite his parents. They'd had the same tiny two-berth caravan since he'd been a teenager. Every summer Friday evening, they hitched it to their car and headed off. Nowhere far, just up the coast to Leven or Elie. Sometimes they'd really go for it and cross the Forth to Dunbar or North Berwick. And on Sunday evening, they'd return, as thrilled with themselves as if they'd crossed the North Pole. So really, it wasn't such a surprise that PC Jimmy Lawson had hung on to the caravan he'd lived in while he'd built his house. Especially since every angler needs a retreat. Most people would likely have done the same.
Except, of course, that most people wouldn't have been hanging on to a crime scene.
"Now do you believe Alex?" Weird demanded of Lawson. The effect of his words was tempered by the fact that he was huddled into himself, his arm across his ribs trying to stop them grating against each other in spasms of agony.
The police hadn't been far ahead of Weird, and he'd arrived to find apparent chaos. Men in bulletproof vests with field caps and rifles milled around, while other officers bustled hither and thither on obscure tasks of their own. Curiously, nobody seemed to be paying him much attention. He limped out of the taxi and surveyed the scene. It didn't take him long to spot Lawson, leaning over a map spread on a car bonnet. The woman cop he and Alex had talked to at police headquarters was at his side, a mobile to her ear.
Weird approached, anger and apprehension acting as painkillers. "Hey, Lawson," he called from a few feet away. "You happy now?"
Lawson spun round, a guilty thing surprised. His jaw dropped as recognition filtered through the damage to Weird's face. "Tom Mackie?" he said uncertainly.
"The same. Now do you believe Alex? That maniac has his kid in there. He's already killed two people and you're just standing by in the hope he'll make it easy for you by making it three."
Lawson shook his head. Weird could see the anxiety in his eyes. "That's not true. We're doing everything we can to get the Gilbeys' baby back safely. And you don't know that Graham Macfadyen is guilty of anything else except this offense."
"No? Who the hell else do you think killed Ziggy and Mondo? Who the hell else do you think did this to me?" He raised a single finger toward his face. "He could have killed me last night."
"You saw him?"
"No, I was too busy trying to stay alive."
"In that case, we're exactly where we were before. No evidence, Mr. Mackie. No evidence."
"Listen to me, Lawson. We've lived with Rosie Duff's death for twenty-five years. Suddenly, her son turns up out of the blue. And the next thing that happens is that two of us are murdered. For pity's sake, man, why are you the only one who can't see that's cause and effect?" Weird was shouting now, oblivious to the fact that several cops were now staring at him with watchful, impassive eyes.
"Mr. Mackie, I'm trying to mount a complex operation here. You standing here throwing out unfounded allegations really doesn't help. Theories are all very well, but we operate on evidence." Lawson's anger was obvious now. At his side, Karen Pirie had ended her call and was moving unobtrusively closer to Weird.
"You don't find evidence unless you start looking for it."
"It's not my job to investigate murders that are outside my jurisdiction," Lawson snapped. "You're wasting my time, Mr. Mackie. And, as you point out, a child's life may be at stake."
"You are going to pay for this," Weird said. "Both of you," he added, turning to include Karen in his condemnation. "You were warned and you did nothing. If he harms a hair on that child's head, I swear, Lawson, you are going to wish you had never been born. Now, where's Lynn?"
Lawson shuddered inwardly, remembering Lynn Gilbey's arrival at the scene. She'd hurtled out of the police car and thrown herself at him, raining blows on his chest and screaming incoherently. Karen Pirie had stepped in smartly, wrapping her arms round the frantic woman.
"She's in that white van over there. Karen, take Mr. Mackie over to the armed-response unit vehicle. And stay with him and Mrs. Gilbey. I don't want them running around like loose cannons when we've got marksmen all over the place."
"See, when this is all over?" Weird said as Karen steered him