Page 39 of Watching You
‘Does it look bad? It feels bad. Should we call an ambulance?’
‘I try not to be rude to people I’ve only just met, Kev, but would you grow a pair? Now, tell me why your editor would think I’m an interesting enough person to have me followed.’
‘It’s the cases you’re investigating.’ He paused and looked at her in a way that suggested he’d practised it in the mirror. ‘We know.’
Connie fought the urge to slap him.
‘Youknow? God, this is exhausting. I’m just calling the police. I work with them after all. I’m pretty sure I can have you locked up for harassment or intimidation or something like that, and that’s if they don’t plant some drugs on you just because you’re annoying me.’
‘You can’t threaten me,’ he wailed.
‘You’re right, it’s so easy it’s beneath me. I’ll play nice. So what is it that I’m supposed to know?’
‘That you believe there’s a serial killer operating in Edinburgh, that your whole squad has no leads and no clues, and that absolutely anyone might be the next victim because, in spite of the fact that you’re supposed to be some shit-hot profiler, you can’t find any patterns at all in the killer’s behaviour.’ By the time he’d finished the sentence, his voice was so high that it was painful to listen to.
Connie stopped still in the middle of North Bridge and stared at him.
‘And how in the name of all that is precious to you, did you happen to come by that information, Kev?’ she asked quietly.
Had Kev been a snail, he’d have retreated the soft parts of his body back into his shell. Instead, he just looked like he was sucking himself inwards.
‘We never reveal our sources,’ he said.
‘Suppose I said you’re completely wrong and that if you print it, we’ll sue you.’
Kev shook his head frantically. ‘It’s a good source. Anonymous but we have detail.’
‘Give it to me fast,’ she said.
‘Three murders, no suspects, no torture, no accidents, clean crime scenes, lack of motive, resemble assassinations. Someone in MIT dubbed him the Joyride Killer yesterday because it looks like he’s just enjoying himself for no particular reason.’
He was right. Someone had shouted the nickname in the briefing room as Connie was explaining the latest theory, although she hadn’t seen who. All of which meant that she had two choices. Lie and deny, or take the facts as she believed them to be and try to turn the situation to her advantage.
‘So a member of my team took a theory from yesterday’s briefing and presented it to you as fact,’ she said. ‘That’s not good. It means I’ll have to look at everyone’s phone records, emails, messages, social media—’
‘So you don’t deny it,’ he said, emboldened.
‘That someone’s getting disciplined, fired and might end up in court? Nope, don’t deny that at all. Keep walking. There’s someone I want you to meet.’
Connie greeted the early shift reception team at The Balmoral cheerily as Kev plodded along behind her still gripping his neck with bloodied fingers. If they wondered what was going on, they were well trained enough to simply smile and wish them a good day.
Baarda opened the door on the second knock, looking as if he too had already been awake and was in the middle of exercising.
He stared from Connie to Kev and back again, then sighed.
‘Come in,’ he said. ‘I’m not even sure I want to know what’s happening here.’
Connie filled him in as she put the kettle on. They took Kev’s mobile from him before letting him clean up in Baarda’s bathroom.
‘You realise we’re pretty much holding a journalist hostage right now?’ Baarda whispered.
‘Well, I can’t deny what he said, so we need to figure out a way to make this work for us before we can release him into the wild,’ she said. ‘And after that we need to figure out who gave the story to the press.’
‘All of which is far less worrying than the fact that you were running around with a weapon that you actually used on him. I never even realised what that thing was!’
‘That’s exactly the point!’
Kev emerged from the bathroom holding a makeshift toilet roll bandage against his neck.
