Until I Find You by Anna Smith

Author:Anna Smith [Smith, Anna]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Quercus
Published: 2021-03-15T00:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eighteen

I stood at my window gazing out at the deserted Blythswood Square, hypnotised by the squally rain sweeping across the rooftops, flowing over guttering into puddles. There’s something calming about watching the incessant rain, even though it hangs over the landscape with a kind of brooding. The last couple of hours had been completely surreal, like watching someone else stumbling through it. It was only now that I was back in my flat in the stillness that I was able to think straight. I could still see big Wilson’s face that moment outside Yates’s building when I turned up. The thought of it brought a slight smile to my lips now.

*

‘So what the fuck’s going on, Carlson?’

Wilson had climbed into the back of a marked police Land Rover which I’d been ushered into after our encounter. I didn’t answer. Truth was, I didn’t quite know where to start, and there was no way that I was going to spill my guts about my investigation. I also wasn’t comfortable sitting that close to him in a confined space, not for any reason other than that I was edgy and didn’t like it. I shifted myself a little closer to the door.

‘Look, Harry,’ I said, turning to him, ‘you know the score. You know that I can’t tell you anything about an investigation I’m working on, any more than you can tell me about yours.’

He glared at me. ‘I’m on a murder investigation. And you walked right into it. That’s what I’m doing.’ He paused and raised his eyebrows. ‘So I think you’d better start explaining yourself a bit.’

‘I’m not a suspect,’ I hit back, so he would know I wasn’t about to buckle. ‘I told you. I am working for a client, and Yates’s name came into the frame. I spoke to him yesterday, and then he called me and asked to see me. As I said, I crashed my car, and got delayed. So by the time I got there, it was too late.’

‘Carlson, I need you to tell me what you were talking to him about.’ Wilson’s tone had a pleading edge to it. ‘We’re trying to work out why Yates was shot. It wasn’t random. It’s no robbery. This was a hit.’

I shrugged. ‘The kind of stuff he was involved in – you know from the court case – who knows how many enemies he had? Probably plenty of people wouldn’t mind a pop at him.’

‘You mean the snuff movies and all that shit he was done with? Is that something you’re working on?’

There was a part of me that wanted to tell him, wanted the full force of the cops to be all over this hunt for Jackie’s kid. But I knew that was not how it would pan out. I’d seen them operate on my own case, how slow they were off the mark, how frustrating it was to hear that they hadn’t covered a lead or had failed to do something concrete. Those kinds of stories seldom had a happy ending, and I was living proof of it.

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