Remember Me 2 Read online

  The comment made everyone angry. Because they all knew it was true.

  The phone had since been handed to Forensics for analysis, but quite frankly, the did not expect it to reveal anything.

  “We can’t ever make those assumptions!” McKenzie had rebuked him. “The killer or killers are working at breakneck speed here. They’re achieving a lot and striving to stay ahead of our whole team. At some point it is very likely that they may make a mistake. And when they do, that may be the only chance we get, or the break we need. We have to be all over it. Don’t assume anything!”

  Next up was McLeish. He and Lynch had been calling down the list of all teachers, current and previous, who’d been working at Portobello, trying to check on their safety. The work was ongoing, but so far no further alarm bells were ringing.

  Lynch, next, was able to share a photograph of the writing on Blake’s forehead, and had confirmed that the shape and position of the letters which were still discernible were consistent with their belonging to the words ‘Remember Me?’

  Wishart had brought in Scott Davies. He’d been interviewed and discounted. It had been agreed that the death of Willy Thomson needed pursuing but was not part of Operation Blue Building. It would be handed over to some other team to investigate. PC Jordon both entered and closed those actions on the system with the appropriate responses and notes. Next, Wishart had managed to get hold of the coroner’s report on the death of Maggie Sutherland. She had fallen in front of a train in Edinburgh Train Station one night. The inquest had decided it was suicide.

  “Although someone could have pushed her!” Lynch remarked.

  “For now, the Procurator Fiscal considers it was suicide. We’ll accept that in the short term. We can’t boil the ocean. We’ve got enough on our plates for now.”

  “But what if someone killed her because of the fuss she raised? Could McRae or Weir or Blake have done it, then someone killed them in retaliation?”

  “Too much speculation for now. But we’ll keep an open mind on all of this. For now though, like I said, we accept that Maggie Sutherland ended her own life. Why she did, we may never know.” McKenzie ruled.

  “Anyway, I’ve printed off a photograph of her. I’ll pass it round.”

  She handed it first to McKenzie. She was a striking young woman. Undoubtedly beautiful, with sparkling blue eyes. McKenzie looked at the picture, and memorised it, then passed it on.

  On the other point relating to Maggie that Wishart had been asked to check, she’d discovered that Maggie was only an only child. Both parents were dead. There were no cousins or immediate relatives to consider. And she was unmarried, and did not seem to have any record of a partner, or at least, nothing had been recorded in the file saying that there was a next of kin at the time of her death.

  Brown was up next. Since a hidden entrance to the campus had now been discovered, her action on that was now resolved. She didn’t yet have an update from forensics on the possible sources of dirt found in the tyre from the burning van but they were working on it.

  Brown had also been in contact with the Procurator Fiscal with respect to the autopsies on Weir, Blake, and McRae. They had now been completed, having been fast-tracked by DCS Helen Wilkinson in response to demands from McKenzie. The Procurator Fiscal’s autopsy reports confirmed dehydration in the bodies of all three. They had not been given water in the days leading to their deaths, although McRae had seemingly had water poured into his body via his mouth just prior to his death. McRae had burn marks on his body similar to those found on Weir and Blake, which were also suspected to be from the application of a cattle prod to the victim. The autopsy on McRae confirmed death by asphyxiation caused by a chemical blockage in the throat, but the report was leaving it to forensics to provide more detail on the chemical makeup of the blockage. The report confirmed that the blockage formed after two chemicals were poured into the throat of the victim, which subsequently mixed, expanded due to a chemical reaction, and formed a solid, preventing McRae from breathing. The coroner’s report also noted low level traces of a drug in his system and noted a puncture wound to the neck which could indicate that McRae had been injected with a substance several days before. The drug was of the type that would induce temporary unconsciousness. The coroner’s report on the autopsies on Weir and Blake also noted the presence of the same drug within their blood, and upon re-examining the bodies, had found a puncture wound in the neck of Ronald Blake. Given the state of Weir’s body, it wasn’t possible to look for and find a similar puncture wound. Brown went on to give details relating to a few more minor points but finished by stating that the analysis of the faeces found within the chamber at the end of the tunnel should be complete by the following evening. This was intended to confirm who it belonged to, and how many people were held there that may have left a sample. Similarly, forensics would be examining the cloth material found, taking fingerprints, swabbing for DNA and examining the urine samples. The hope was to identify no more than three individuals having been held captive in that room, otherwise they may be looking for another victim. Lastly, there was an outside hope they may find some DNA belonging to the killer.

  “I wouldn’t bank on it,” Lynch had commented.

  To which McKenzie had immediately interjected.

  “I know that a lot has happened, but I don’t want us to start becoming negative. We mustn’t. On the contrary, we’ve just made a major discovery, which could lead us to the killer. It definitely opens open new avenues of investigation. The killer may appear clever, at the moment, but I promise you, if you guys believe we will catch him, we will. Do not, and I repeat, do NOT start thinking anything to the contrary. He just needs to make one mistake and we’ll have him. Or her. Remember, the killer is warning us that some other person out there is just about to die. It’s up to us to save them. Every second counts. So, no negative thoughts allowed. Agreed?”

  A round of nodding heads.

  Nobody, however, was entirely convinced.

  The clock was ticking, someone else was about to die, and for now, they were powerless to stop it.

  Chapter 35

  Monday

  Operation Blue Building

  Incident Room

  19.15

  McKenzie had given everyone a five-minute break. His wife had called him but he’d missed the call. She’d sent a text, saying only ‘Call Me!’ but she now wasn’t answering her phone.

  He’d try again as soon as the meeting was over.

  During the break he’d stepped down to the other portacabin room immediately beneath the incident room and had a quick word with Gary Bruce and the others who were still in the room waiting for permission to leave it.

  McKenzie had effectively set them free, saying they should go home for the evening, but all return in the morning. One of his officers would take a statement from each of them the next day.

  McKenzie had discussed the matter briefly with Anderson beforehand. According to the information Gary Bruce had provided the Sergeant with, no one else in his team had gone to Portobello High School. Only Gary Bruce.

  Unfortunately, although Gary Bruce would make the perfect suspect, the more McKenzie thought about him and talked with him, the less McKenzie felt that he was the man they were looking for.

  Standing in the ‘dungeon’ they’d discovered at the other end of the tunnel, McKenzie had begun to sense for the first time the type of man they were looking for.

  Cool under pressure. Clever. Sophisticated. A cold-blooded killer.

  On the contrary, Bruce was not cool under pressure. He was agitated, getting angrier as each day passed, and McKenzie didn’t think it was an act.

  McKenzie also trusted Anderson’s judgement, and after spending an hour questioning him earlier that day whilst everyone else was standing at the end of the tunnel, Anderson also admitted that he didn’t think Gary Bruce was their man.

  So tomorrow, they’d take statements, then cross them off the suspect list.

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  As soon as everyone was assembled, they continued the meeting.

  McKenzie stood in front of the whiteboard.

  “Okay, the good news is that the actions are progressing. We’re making some progress. Which is positive. I want to reiterate we must not allow ourselves to get negative about this. The tide is about to turn, in our favour. I believe it, and I want you to believe it too. Okay?”

  Some smiles. But not from everyone.

  “Good, now we’re going to decide the key actions for the next few days, and discuss the big questions that need to be answered.”

  “First up, is the tunnel. Who knew about it? Who had access to it? Who used it?”

  McKenzie turned to the board, and wrote that down, put a big No. 1. beside it and ringed it in red marker pen.

  “Wishart. I’d asked you to look into any unexplained deaths amongst Portobello pupils or teachers. I know you haven’t had time to do that yet, but for now I want you to park that one. We’re short staffed, and we can’t do everything. We’ve got to prioritise, so I’m giving you the action to find out all you can about the tunnel. Find out who would know about it? And who would have access to it or have a key to the concrete building on the other side of the tunnel in the Figgate Park. And find out why the original plan we have is different from the plan now… I mean, when were those houses built? And… And find out why the tunnels are needed, and why they were built?”

  McKenzie cast a glance over to PC Jordon.

  “Are you getting this, or is it too fast?”

  She smiled and nodded.

  “It’s perfect. All good so far. The pace is fine.”

  “Excellent. McLeish, you’re helping Wishart. You’re not dropping the action to chase up on ex-teachers, you’re just parking it. She’ll supervise you.”

  A nod from McLeish.

  “Lynch? Dean? I want you two doing your best to use the phone records to pinpoint where and how Weir, Blake or McRae may have been picked up. We know they might have been injected and sedated or knocked out. They were probably bundled into the white van we found before it became a burned-out wreck. I know the phone records didn’t tell us much, but do what you can to see if there’s anything we can get from local CCTV cameras. Was the van we found in the neighbourhood? Can you see any suspicious activities in the streets? There’s just the slightest possibility we might get the murderer on film kidnapping his victims. A long shot. But possible. Okay?”

  This time two smiles and nods.

  “Brown?”

  “Yes, Guv?”

  “I want you to talk with Forensics and agree a time-schedule for getting them out of this building. As far as I’m concerned, we only have two murder scenes. The room where Ronald Blake was crucified, and the room Mark McRae was killed in. The rest of the building is no longer of interest. Obviously, the tunnel is of interest, but I suspect they will not find much there. The dungeon – for want of a better word – and the rooms at the other end of the tunnel are sufficiently far away from this building that I think that although they may need more time there, we should still be able to consider blowing the main building up as soon as possible. I don’t want anyone else dying here. Let’s ensure that Mark McRae was the last. When this gets out to the press, which it will soon, we’re going to have a media circus outside. The best plan is to bring the building down as soon as possible. I’d suggest you give forensics two days. We’ve also to consider that the building is still wired with explosives. Every second we delay the demolition, the more we put everyone at risk who is anywhere near it. Two days?”

  Brown made a face, but nodded.

  McKenzie knew that getting permission to blow the building up so quickly may be a challenge, but there were more reasons to destroy it now, than to keep it.

  Plus, now McKenzie was becoming more convinced that Gary Bruce was not a suspect, he was inclined to do everything he could to help ensure Bruce wasn’t driven into bankruptcy and became another victim of the killer.

  There was also a growing feeling at the back of his mind that the building had served its purpose for the killer. When they entered the tunnels and investigated them, they were empty. There were no traces of anything that might lead them to the killer. It was almost as if the killer was satisfied that they had served their purpose and had moved on. Yet again, McKenzie’s team were behind the curve, but he didn’t want to admit that to his team, even if other’s may have thought it too.

  Which all led to another big question: if the next murder wasn’t going to take place in the school, where was it going to be?

  “Okay, does anyone else have any suggestions? Thoughts? Comments?” McKenzie asked, stepping back from the whiteboard after writing the rest of the questions and ideas down.

  “I have a question,” McLeish volunteered.

  “Go for it.” McKenzie nodded at him.

  “That’s three times now the killer has known where you were, and then placed something on your car. Are we chasing the killer? Or is the killer chasing you? And if he is, how does he or she know where you are all the time? Are we confident that it’s not one of the demolition squad on site here who’s listening to our conversations and then following us to where we say we will go during our meetings?”

  A few people in the room looked back and forward at each other.

  “A good question. I don’t know the answer to that.”

  “Or is your car bugged?” McLeish asked, quite pointedly.

  The question stunned McKenzie. Both in the way McLeish uttered the question, and also in terms of the point it raised. McKenzie immediately began to consider the question more: ‘Could his car be bugged?’ If it was, it would explain a lot.

  “I’d like to say that we’re getting a little paranoid by asking that, but actually, in reality, it’s not a stupid question. I’m afraid it’s actually a real possibility. Since you came up with the question, I’m giving you the action to call Fettes tonight or tomorrow morning, first thing, and find out if there’s any way we can scan the car to see if it could be bugged. Do we have that capability?”

  McKenzie added the action to the list on the whiteboard.

  “Okay, right, you’re probably all wondering what my action is? Well, I’m taking this home with me tonight and going to try and read it.” He held up the blue book, ‘Remember Me?’. “I need to find out what it’s about and if it reveals why each of the deceased had a copy. I also then need to contact the publisher and see if we can find out who wrote it, who published it, how many copies were printed, and how they were distributed. How many other people apart from Blake, Weir and McRae got them?”

  “Good,” he started to conclude, but as he started to speak, his phone rang.

  It was his wife Fiona.

  Knowing that Fiona would never call him at work unless it was urgent, - messaging was fine but a call might interrupt something, like this important operation’s briefing – McKenzie took the call.

  “Are you okay,” he asked, signalling an apology to the room, and turning his back on them.

  “No, I’m in an ambulance. On the way to the hospital. Campbell… I’ve just gone into labour!”

  -------------------------

  Monday

  McKenzie’s Car

  19.30

  McKenzie’s mind was all over the place.

  He had instantly clapped his hands to end the meeting, explained that his wife was unexpectedly in labour, and excused himself.

  Brown had offered to drive, but McKenzie politely declined. He needed the car, and he didn’t know when he’d back.

  “You’re in charge now. You know what to do.” He told Brown.

  And he left.

  From where he was, it was about a ten-minute drive to the Royal Infirmary of Edinburgh Hospital, down through Duddingston, round past Craigmillar and over the hill past the incredible Craigmillar Castle, not that McKenzie had time for sight-seeing now.

  He was scared.

  Fiona was only thirt
y-two weeks into the pregnancy. Little Bump was not expected to arrive for another eight weeks.

  He and Fiona had been to all the NCT classes together to learn everything they could about pregnancy. Fiona had also devoured every book she could on childbirth and what to expect.

  This was definitely not part of the plan.

  It was against the law, and McKenzie knew it, but he popped the blue light on top of his car, and sped across several junctions without waiting for the lights.

  Blue lights were for emergency use only.

  And this was an emergency.

  Pulling into the car park, he abandoned the car without a ticket in one of the parking bays nearest the maternity department, and ran full speed into the maternity ward.

  A calm woman at the reception desk smiled at him as he burst in.

  “My wife just called me. She arrived in an ambulance just a few minutes ago. She’d gone into labour prematurely. Her name’s Fiona McKenzie.”

  The woman seemed to recognise her name, and the smile slipped slightly from her mouth. She picked up a phone and dialled a number, and asked to speak with someone.