his way back down to the border. At least I assume that’s where he was heading.’
‘You’ve tried calling him?’
Wemyss bristled. Looked ready to lamp me one. I couldn’t really blame him. I was here because he asked me, and now I was questioning his professional competence.
So I answered my own question. ‘You tried and he didn’t answer.’
‘Nothing from the mobile or the landline. There’s a couple of local lads down that way owe me a favour. They’ve been waiting for hours now. No sign of him. The journey from here to Moorehead’s house only takes about four hours if you know what you’re doing.’
‘So where is he?’
‘Fucked if I know.’ Wemyss hesitated. He was tense, and I knew he wanted to lash out. All that energy buzzing just beneath his skin, the muscles trembling, the heart tripping to its own beat.
‘Are you glad he’s dead?’ Meaning Alex.
‘No. The prick took innocent children with him. We’ll never find their bodies.’
But an unanswered sentence was left unsaid.
If he even killed those kids in the first place.
SIXTEEN
B ack in the days when everything was simple, when the world made sense, Ernie Bright was everything I wanted to be. He had seen policing at its best and worst, coming through the other side with a strong sense of morality, highly attuned to the realities of the world.
Even if I had managed to partially redeem his memory, there were still unanswered questions about his actual loyalties. I had found a paper trail that led from his bank account to the laundered money of one of Dundee’s biggest criminals. And I still didn’t understand why. What was their relationship? Who was Ernie Bright to David Burns?
But back in the good old days, none of that mattered.
We used to drink at the Phoenix on the Perth Road. Not a copper’s boozer, but more a second home for its regulars, who came from all walks of life. Back in those days, the landlord used to be behind the bar every time we walked in; a larger than life figure who liked to try and have a bit of fun with his punters.
‘What can I get you, gents?’
I was on the Deuchars, but Ernie wasn’t willing to get more than a Coke, which earned him a ribbing. Truth was, he’d done his back in chasing a suspect who decided he didn’t want to be interviewed. Ernie liked to keep his head on straight, and the idea of mixing painkillers and alcohol wasn’t one that filled him with joy. Mind you, when we retired to one of the corners, he said it might have been better than putting up with the landlord’s jokes.
‘You wanted to talk?’
‘Aye,’ I said. Feeling daft, like this whole chat was a bad idea.
But we were here, and the drinks were down.
‘You know about the Young case?’
‘Young? Oh, you mean the perv?’
‘That’s the one.’
The case had been open for months. Aaron Young had been making perverted calls to women around the city. I knew the copper who brought him in. Name of Parker. We’d worked together a few times. I didn’t have strong feelings about him as a copper. He did the job, said the right things to the right people, didn’t make waves. Thing was, I knew the call that Parker charged Young with was not one that Young had made.
And Parker knew that, too.
But what do you do?
Dob in a fellow officer? People joke about the thin blue line, but those who walk along it understand how sometimes there can be temptations to bend the rules.
Ernie wasn’t a squealer. Wasn’t going to run to internal affairs. While the blue line maybe isn’t as thick as some would like you to believe, it still exists. Where we can, we still try protect our own.
So I told him.
Keeping names out of it.
Just in case.
‘I’m not reporting anyone,’ Ernie said. ‘But I’ve considered it myself more than once. It’s the best solution to a bad problem. You fit someone up not because they did it but because they might as well have done it, or because they’re the easy solution to your
‘You’ve tried calling him?’
Wemyss bristled. Looked ready to lamp me one. I couldn’t really blame him. I was here because he asked me, and now I was questioning his professional competence.
So I answered my own question. ‘You tried and he didn’t answer.’
‘Nothing from the mobile or the landline. There’s a couple of local lads down that way owe me a favour. They’ve been waiting for hours now. No sign of him. The journey from here to Moorehead’s house only takes about four hours if you know what you’re doing.’
‘So where is he?’
‘Fucked if I know.’ Wemyss hesitated. He was tense, and I knew he wanted to lash out. All that energy buzzing just beneath his skin, the muscles trembling, the heart tripping to its own beat.
‘Are you glad he’s dead?’ Meaning Alex.
‘No. The prick took innocent children with him. We’ll never find their bodies.’
But an unanswered sentence was left unsaid.
If he even killed those kids in the first place.
SIXTEEN
B ack in the days when everything was simple, when the world made sense, Ernie Bright was everything I wanted to be. He had seen policing at its best and worst, coming through the other side with a strong sense of morality, highly attuned to the realities of the world.
Even if I had managed to partially redeem his memory, there were still unanswered questions about his actual loyalties. I had found a paper trail that led from his bank account to the laundered money of one of Dundee’s biggest criminals. And I still didn’t understand why. What was their relationship? Who was Ernie Bright to David Burns?
But back in the good old days, none of that mattered.
We used to drink at the Phoenix on the Perth Road. Not a copper’s boozer, but more a second home for its regulars, who came from all walks of life. Back in those days, the landlord used to be behind the bar every time we walked in; a larger than life figure who liked to try and have a bit of fun with his punters.
‘What can I get you, gents?’
I was on the Deuchars, but Ernie wasn’t willing to get more than a Coke, which earned him a ribbing. Truth was, he’d done his back in chasing a suspect who decided he didn’t want to be interviewed. Ernie liked to keep his head on straight, and the idea of mixing painkillers and alcohol wasn’t one that filled him with joy. Mind you, when we retired to one of the corners, he said it might have been better than putting up with the landlord’s jokes.
‘You wanted to talk?’
‘Aye,’ I said. Feeling daft, like this whole chat was a bad idea.
But we were here, and the drinks were down.
‘You know about the Young case?’
‘Young? Oh, you mean the perv?’
‘That’s the one.’
The case had been open for months. Aaron Young had been making perverted calls to women around the city. I knew the copper who brought him in. Name of Parker. We’d worked together a few times. I didn’t have strong feelings about him as a copper. He did the job, said the right things to the right people, didn’t make waves. Thing was, I knew the call that Parker charged Young with was not one that Young had made.
And Parker knew that, too.
But what do you do?
Dob in a fellow officer? People joke about the thin blue line, but those who walk along it understand how sometimes there can be temptations to bend the rules.
Ernie wasn’t a squealer. Wasn’t going to run to internal affairs. While the blue line maybe isn’t as thick as some would like you to believe, it still exists. Where we can, we still try protect our own.
So I told him.
Keeping names out of it.
Just in case.
‘I’m not reporting anyone,’ Ernie said. ‘But I’ve considered it myself more than once. It’s the best solution to a bad problem. You fit someone up not because they did it but because they might as well have done it, or because they’re the easy solution to your
Similar Books
