The Devil's Due: A Cooper and McCall Scottish Crime Thriller by Ramsay Sinclair (good inspirational books .TXT) 📗

“No, she didn’t.”

“They were in agreement. Cahoots.” I snapped the folder shut, memorizing Catherine's address. “She lives five minutes away from the woods.”

“Last night would have given him enough time to burn his clothes in the woods, plant the animals as a distraction and hide over at Catherine’s.” McCall shared her thoughts.

“A younger girl would be easy to persuade from someone in a position of power,” DC Taylor joined us.

“He had nowhere else to go,” McCall pressed on. “No family, a few friends, but none of them exactly criminal masterminds. Perhaps he thought he’d be safe there, with her?” McCall looked to DC Taylor in desperation. “Surely it won't hurt to check it out. We have no other leads to follow.” That was becoming a standard issue to this case.

“Before we do, McCall. It’s illegal to take these files without permission. We had none.” Now I understood her initial reservations, why she didn’t tell me right away. We didn’t have enough reason to bring the files into this case. But now, She’d kept medical records, and we’d carried out a search with no warrant. McCall was in a place of vulnerability and had risked her career because she trusted my initial instincts.

“You could lose your job.” DC Taylor chimed in.

“It’s worth it.” She smiled bravely, not allowing herself to fall apart. Not now. I’d never expect a fellow officer to risk anything for me, let alone the officer I trusted most. I’d jeopardised her, all because of a stinking attitude problem. “My actions, my consequences,” McCall told us firmly.

“Think about it, McCall,” I told her. “I need you on this team. We all do. You uncovered vital pieces of evidence.” We did need her, someone with bravery and initiative. McCall sighed.

“Can we go? I don’t want to lose him, again.” She strode away, leaving us to clamber after her into the car. I had been demoted to the passenger seat as McCall was silently worried that I may still be alcohol influenced. I wasn’t, I could tell, but I let her take her moment.

Catherine Jones didn’t live a million miles away. The odds were stacked against Jack Harper, we all hoped. We discussed methods of approach and decided on one of us knocking at her door, one stationed around the side and one around the back. By covering all exits, we could make sure Jack Harper wasn’t about to make another dash and go. He’d be so lucky as to play that game with me twice.

No. We would be ready this time.

And follow the plan we did. McCall took the front to greet whoever answered the door with a friendly face. A chance to do good. A chance to talk. DC Taylor took the back, probably a faster runner than all of CID put together. It was only natural; he spent his spare time doing fitness.

I positioned myself around the side door, ready to aid any one of my team, no matter which way Jack Harper ran. I clattered into some bins and hoped the people inside couldn’t hear the noise. DC Taylor signalled the ready sign to me, which I directed towards McCall. She took a deep breath and knocked three times.

We waited patiently enough until the chain echoed into the air, meaning the door had been opened. I strained my hearing to listen to what McCall was saying.

“DS Kirsty McCall, CID. Can I come in, please?” she said resolutely

I heard a female gasp, and then McCall shouted out. “Cooper, inside!” That signalled my cue to enter. DC Taylor stayed put, just in case.

I hammered around to the front, out of breath already. My earlier sneaky cigarette didn’t help. Both eardrums pumped full of blood and adrenaline. McCall had left the front door open for me to enter. A young lady, presumably Catherine Jones, stood in the hallway, wearing nothing but skimpy pyjamas and a matching dressing gown.

That didn’t matter for the time being, what mattered to us would be catching up to Jack Harper. I noticed McCall disappear upstairs, so I flew up the staircase to back her up. Women on the front line sometimes didn’t end up so well. Men could be a lot bigger physically and a lot more powerful than a woman with a frame like McCall.

A commotion came from one of the bedrooms, the smaller one. I burst in to find Jack Harper crouching on the floor with both hands clamped around his ears. He tried to block out our voices, and he didn’t want to hear us. There was no aggressive behaviour, no running or shouting. DC Taylor would still be waiting outside, so I opened the nearest window.

“He’s here,” I called out. “We got him.”

DC Taylor appreciated the heads up and came to join us inside.

“Jack Harper, we are arresting you on suspicion of murdering Gavin Ellis. You don’t have to say anything, but anything you do say may harm your defence if you do not mention when questioned something which you later rely on in court. Anything you do say may be given in evidence,” I read the customary police caution to Harper as I slapped a pair of handcuffs onto him. McCall held him in case he made a mad dash for the nearest exit.

His gaunt face streamed with tears, and his glasses were skew-whiff, which caused his ears to turn a bright red. Jack Harper smelled of sweat and must, obviously carried over from his own pit.

“I didn’t do it!” He shouted in desperation, tugging against McCall. She held onto him tightly and led him downstairs. The walk of shame, I preferred to call it.

“You’ve lied to us, Mr Harper,” I explained. “You’ll have a chance to explain at the station. You haven’t worked at the medical centre for months, when you so clearly stated in your alibi that you were at work on the night of Gavin Ellis’s death. We found your scalpel stashed behind your sofa.”

“It’s Catherine’s blood.” Jack Harper persisted. “It’s Catherine’s blood on the