The Gathering Dark by James Oswald

Author:James Oswald
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781405925327
Publisher: Penguin Books Ltd
Published: 2017-12-14T16:00:00+00:00

32

‘You got a moment, sir?’

McLean had been meaning to walk past the entrance to the major-incident room and on towards the stairs, his eventual destination the canteen and a much needed cup of tea. Possibly even some chocolate cake, too, if there was any left. DC Harrison’s quiet voice interrupted him mid-stride.

‘I guess so. What’s up?’ He looked past her, standing in the doorway, to the hustle and bustle of the investigation beyond.

‘West End Station just sent something across you might be interested in.’

Sighing inwardly, McLean followed the detective constable into the incident room. A table in one corner had been piled high with boxes, each containing meticulously bagged pieces of evidence from the crash scene. Unclaimed wallets, items of clothing, the collar and lead from a dog called ‘Tiberius’: all of it had been through the forensics labs and was now waiting to be catalogued, returned to grieving families or stored until such time as it was no longer needed. And sitting at the front of the pile, wrapped in a clear plastic sheet, was a bright-yellow rucksack.

‘Beat constable found it down on the canalside, past Lochrin basin. Didn’t think much of it until they got a whiff of the smell.’ Harrison carefully opened the plastic bag and McLean’s nose wrinkled at the onslaught. Everything from the crash scene had that same, powerful, chemical odour.

‘Reckon it must have belonged to one of the victims. There’s heartless bastards out there who’d steal the teether out of a baby’s mouth if they thought it was worth something.’ Harrison’s quiet fury suggested a long-nursed grievance, but she had a point. They’d been so stretched after the truck crash anyone could have helped themselves to a backpack, rifled through it and tossed whatever wasn’t valuable to them aside.

‘Anyone had a look inside it?’ McLean pulled a pair of gloves out of his pocket and snapped them on. The incident room had quietened around him, all eyes turned to see what was going on. Or maybe it was just the smell rendering them speechless.

‘There’s not much. A couple of notebooks, some pens. I’m guessing anything valuable’s long gone. Nothing as helpful as a name and address, I’m afraid.’ Harrison had also donned gloves and laid out the contents of the backpack as she spoke. It wasn’t much at all.

‘What’s that?’ McLean reached out and picked up a slim rectangle of plastic. Not a credit card as he’d first thought; that would have been taken by whoever had stolen the backpack in the first place. Turning it over, he saw that it was a hotel keycard, the name of the establishment printed across the face.

‘Foxton House Hotel? That’s over in Sciennes, isn’t it?’

Harrison shrugged, but McLean knew the place. It was just around the corner from Grumpy Bob’s flat. More of a hostel than a hotel. Cheap, the sort of place favoured by visiting students and backpackers. Did that fit with the younger of the two unidentified dead women?

‘Think I’ll take a quick walk over there, see if this card’s still active.

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