walls. Alongside each case was a printed list of actions to be carried out. As the officers worked their way through these tasks, new handwritten actions were added to the lists. Boxes of files were stacked to waist level along two walls. Lawson liked to keep a close eye on progress; although this was a high-profile operation, that didn't mean it wasn't tightly constrained by budgetary controls. Most of the new forensic tests were expensive to commission, and he was determined not to allow his squad to be so seduced by the glamour of technology that they squandered all of their resources on lab bills, leaving nothing for the sheer slog of routine investigative tasks.
With one exception, Lawson had handpicked the team of half a dozen detectives, choosing those with a reputation for meticulous attention to detail and the intelligence to connect disparate pieces of information. That exception was an officer whose presence in the room troubled Lawson. Not because he was an inadequate copper, but because he had far too much at stake. Detective Inspector Robin Maclennan's brother Barney had died in the course of investigating one of these cold cases, and if it had been up to Lawson, he'd have been allowed nowhere near the review. But Maclennan had appealed over his head to the Chief Constable, who had overruled Lawson.
The one thing he'd managed to achieve was to keep Maclennan away from the Rosie Duff case itself. After Barney's death, Robin had transferred out of Fife down south. He'd only returned after his father's death the previous year, wanting to work out his last years before his pension close to his mother. By chance, Maclennan had a loose operational link to one of the other cases, so Lawson had persuaded his boss to let him assign the DI to the case of Lesley Cameron, a student who had been raped and murdered in St. Andrews eighteen years ago. Back then, Robin Maclennan had been based near her parents' home and he'd been the designated liaison officer with Lesley's family, probably because of his own connections in the Fife force. Lawson thought Maclennan was likely looking over the shoulder of the detective assigned to the Rosie Duff case, but at least his personal feelings couldn't interfere directly with that investigation.
That November morning, only two officers were at their desks. Detective Constable Phil Parhatka had what was probably the most sensitive case in the review. His victim was a young man found murdered in his home. His best friend had been charged and convicted of the crime, but a series of embarrassing revelations about the police investigation had led to the overturning of the conviction on appeal. The repercussions had holed several careers below the waterline, and now the pressure was on to find the real killer. Lawson had partly chosen Parhatka because of his reputation for sensitivity and discretion. But what Lawson had also seen in the young DC was the same hunger for success that had driven him at that age. Parhatka wanted a result so badly Lawson could almost see the desire smoking off him.
As Lawson walked in, the other officer was getting to her feet. DC Karen Pirie yanked an unfashionable but functional sheepskin coat off the back of her chair and shrugged into it. She glanced up, sensing a new presence in the room, and gave Lawson a weary smile. "There's nothing else for it. I'm going to have to talk to the original witnesses."
"There's no point in that until you've dealt with the physical evidence," Lawson said.
"But, sir?
"You're going to have to go down there and do a manual search."
Karen looked appalled. "That could take weeks."
"I know, but that's all there is for it."
"But, sir?what about the budget?"
Lawson sighed. "Let me worry about the budget. I don't see what alternative you've got. We need that evidence to apply pressure. It isn't in the box it's supposed to be in. The only suggestion the evidence custody team can come up with is that somehow it got 'mislaid' during the move to the new storage facility. They haven't got the bodies to do a search, so you'll have to."
Karen hefted her bag on to her shoulder. "Right you are, sir."
"I've said right from the beginning that, if we're going to make any progress with this one, the physical evidence is going to be the key. If anyone can find it, you can. Do your best, Karen." He watched her leave, her very walk a simulacrum