obligations and what had become more than a duty. This was no mere act of revenge on her part, she told herself. Revenge was mindless and all her actions had been well conceived, purposeful. If he’d been caught, Carol’s killer would be serving some piffling sentence in Barlinnie, Saughton or wherever they could squeeze him in. Then, early release. Always early release. She ground her teeth in silent rage. No. Revenge was far less sweet than what she would ultimately feel when he finally fell into her trap. It would be a vindication, a meting out of justice. She’d be the one to apprehend him, try, sentence and execute all on one starlit night. Meanwhile she killed time, taking pleasure in watching as the media’s interest in the shootings quickened.
CHAPTER 15
He had passed the junction for Erskine hundreds of times in the past, but now Detective Superintendent Lorimer was taking the turning near the Erskine Bridge. The call had come some time after two a.m. with a barked instruction from the chief constable to get his arse over to Renfrewshire asap. Hearing the victim’s name had galvanised him into action and now he was here on this darkened stretch of road, flicking his lights on to full beam.
The presence of a police car let Lorimer know to swing left off the main road and slowly follow the narrow track that led into woodland. The thermometer in his new car registered minus one but there was no wind and the thick pine trees ahead glistened with frost, illumined by his headlights. He stopped the silver Lexus round the next corner behind a line of other cars, the familiar blue and white tape some yards ahead barring further entry, and lifted his kit bag from the passenger seat beside him.
‘Detective Superintendent Lorimer, Serious Crimes Squad,’ he told the uniformed officer standing guard at the side of a muddy path. The man looked at him warily so, suppressing a sigh, Lorimer flipped open his warrant card and the officer immediately stepped aside.
‘Just watch your feet, sir, it’s a bit icy further along,’ the man told him, pulling his coat collar up around his ears.
Lorimer edged carefully over the hard ground, almost slipping once or twice as his feet connected with a frozen patch. The scene of crime was a few yards further along the narrow track and Lorimer could make out several white figures moving about in the swirling gloom. As he drew nearer a pale shape flew silently past, a barn owl hunting for its prey. The arcs of torchlight up ahead had done nothing to deter this bird from its usual nocturnal habits, Lorimer thought, his eyes trying to focus on what was happening. He peered into the darkness, looking for the victim’s car. Was that it? A white blur partly obscured by dense foliage?
‘Can you keep back please?’ A thick-set man suddenly stepped towards him out of the darkness, torch in hand. ‘Only official personnel allowed.’
For the second time Lorimer whipped out his warrant card and held it close to the man’s torch beam so that he could read it.
‘Sorry, sir, we weren’t expecting you this soon. Scene of crime personnel are still attending the scene and we’re waiting for the pathologist. I’m DS Jolyon, scene of crime manager from K Division.’
‘Good to meet you, Jolyon,’ Lorimer said, giving the man a brief handshake. ‘Just let me get geared up will you?’ Turning aside to a patch of dark grass that looked reasonably flat, Lorimer laid down his kit bag and took out the regulation garments that were essential to protect a crime scene from any contamination. Soon he was clad like the others in a white hooded suit and latex gloves, his shoes encased in bootees to prevent any contamination of the soil around the crime scene.
The slam of a car door made Jolyon and Lorimer turn around and they waited until another figure appeared, similarly geared up and carrying a medical bag, stamping along the path to join them.
‘Doctor White,’ Lorimer nodded at the pathologist who was serving as Rosie’s locum.
‘Lorimer,’ the dark haired woman nodded briefly then strode past them both as if she had no need of torchlight to see the locus of this particular crime.
The victim was lying slumped to one side; the hole in his chest black against his white dress shirt. Headlights from nearby patrol cars had leached all sense of colour from the man’s face. Lorimer looked once, then looked away. It