think that there’s a fine institution looking for them. It’s called Strathclyde Police. I think they’re doing all that needs to be done.’
He looks at me, his face incredulous. ‘And I think that most people will agree that the NHS is a fine institution but it does not do all that can be done. It does all it can do and that is not the same thing. Is it? So anything you can tell me, anything at all, will be good.’
I consider that for a moment before I say, ‘There was something up with her. She said nothing to me, but according to her friend Belinda, Sophie got upset at her birthday party.’
‘That was the thirty-first of March?’
‘She was a bit quiet but she had a lot on at work. On the fifth of April she went out for a run and never came back. I was busy so she went out on her own. I went over later when Rod phoned me to say she was very late; he’d already phoned everybody he could think of. My brother was frantic, he’d just come in from looking for Soph; my mother was on her third G and T.’
‘And you then went out and found her car parked down by the dam, locked? Like she’d walked away and left it.’
‘As I’ve said before, you seem very well informed.’
‘Friends in low places. You got nothing else to tell me about the car?’
‘No.’
His eyes flash over mine, he does not believe me. Tough. ‘And then?’
‘Rod reported it to the cops. Sophie and Avril Scott …’
‘The PC? Giffnock?’
‘That’s her, they knew each other personally, so Avril has been going above and beyond for us, but the official line is that Sophie went of her own free will.’
‘Because of the clothes taken, the affair with the married man, the money? Understandable.’
‘She is missing,’ I say. ‘Rod got the Facebook campaign going. Avril said that was the best thing to do. A whole load of people have responded – school pals, uni pals, running pals, the gym, men she liked, men she’d never even looked at, her teachers, clients, and staff from Boadicea. I think Rod has been everywhere and spoken to everybody.’
‘Boadicea? The refuge for battered woman?’
‘For victims of domestic violence,’ I correct him.
‘Why were you not doing that stuff?’
‘I’m not good at it.’ I deflect that question. ‘But nobody has heard from her. That means that something’s happened to Sophie.’
‘But Rod had all those conversations one to one.’ Billy seems to mull this point over. ‘And what happened last night?’
‘You’re the one with friends in low places; you must have friends in the force that can tell you that.’
‘I use my natural charm.’ He wiped some snot from his nose on the back of his sleeve. ‘It’s been confirmed it was Lorna Lennox.’ He does the trick with the sideways chip again, and globules of fat gather at the side of his slavering mouth.
‘I knew it was her,’ I repeat. ‘I don’t get things like that wrong.’
He looks over my shoulder and sighs. ‘So Sophie left about dusk, she had been waiting for the rain to go off. There was a vehicle track close to the path where she ran through the trees. The track itself is isolated. And she was young, slim, smallish. Clever. Of a type. As was Lorna. And Gillian.’
‘All that is true.’ All that is perfectly true, and I’m chilled by the way he has connected these words, these cases. ‘You think that Gillian is still alive?’
‘Lorna has been missing for six months and she was alive until last night. No reason to think that Gillian is dead.’
‘She’s been missing two years.’
‘Two years and three months, to be exact. But Lorna was held somewhere, held prisoner.’
Suddenly I am short of breath.
He nods, acknowledging that he has struck a chord. ‘But they were all taken from different locations within a ten-mile radius by someone with the means to hide them. It’s not easy to hide a human being. You need property, isolation.’
‘There are loads of places like that up here.’ I am
He looks at me, his face incredulous. ‘And I think that most people will agree that the NHS is a fine institution but it does not do all that can be done. It does all it can do and that is not the same thing. Is it? So anything you can tell me, anything at all, will be good.’
I consider that for a moment before I say, ‘There was something up with her. She said nothing to me, but according to her friend Belinda, Sophie got upset at her birthday party.’
‘That was the thirty-first of March?’
‘She was a bit quiet but she had a lot on at work. On the fifth of April she went out for a run and never came back. I was busy so she went out on her own. I went over later when Rod phoned me to say she was very late; he’d already phoned everybody he could think of. My brother was frantic, he’d just come in from looking for Soph; my mother was on her third G and T.’
‘And you then went out and found her car parked down by the dam, locked? Like she’d walked away and left it.’
‘As I’ve said before, you seem very well informed.’
‘Friends in low places. You got nothing else to tell me about the car?’
‘No.’
His eyes flash over mine, he does not believe me. Tough. ‘And then?’
‘Rod reported it to the cops. Sophie and Avril Scott …’
‘The PC? Giffnock?’
‘That’s her, they knew each other personally, so Avril has been going above and beyond for us, but the official line is that Sophie went of her own free will.’
‘Because of the clothes taken, the affair with the married man, the money? Understandable.’
‘She is missing,’ I say. ‘Rod got the Facebook campaign going. Avril said that was the best thing to do. A whole load of people have responded – school pals, uni pals, running pals, the gym, men she liked, men she’d never even looked at, her teachers, clients, and staff from Boadicea. I think Rod has been everywhere and spoken to everybody.’
‘Boadicea? The refuge for battered woman?’
‘For victims of domestic violence,’ I correct him.
‘Why were you not doing that stuff?’
‘I’m not good at it.’ I deflect that question. ‘But nobody has heard from her. That means that something’s happened to Sophie.’
‘But Rod had all those conversations one to one.’ Billy seems to mull this point over. ‘And what happened last night?’
‘You’re the one with friends in low places; you must have friends in the force that can tell you that.’
‘I use my natural charm.’ He wiped some snot from his nose on the back of his sleeve. ‘It’s been confirmed it was Lorna Lennox.’ He does the trick with the sideways chip again, and globules of fat gather at the side of his slavering mouth.
‘I knew it was her,’ I repeat. ‘I don’t get things like that wrong.’
He looks over my shoulder and sighs. ‘So Sophie left about dusk, she had been waiting for the rain to go off. There was a vehicle track close to the path where she ran through the trees. The track itself is isolated. And she was young, slim, smallish. Clever. Of a type. As was Lorna. And Gillian.’
‘All that is true.’ All that is perfectly true, and I’m chilled by the way he has connected these words, these cases. ‘You think that Gillian is still alive?’
‘Lorna has been missing for six months and she was alive until last night. No reason to think that Gillian is dead.’
‘She’s been missing two years.’
‘Two years and three months, to be exact. But Lorna was held somewhere, held prisoner.’
Suddenly I am short of breath.
He nods, acknowledging that he has struck a chord. ‘But they were all taken from different locations within a ten-mile radius by someone with the means to hide them. It’s not easy to hide a human being. You need property, isolation.’
‘There are loads of places like that up here.’ I am
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