Robertson, Craig - Cold Grave by Robertson Craig

Author:Robertson, Craig [Robertson, Craig]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Fiction, Mystery, Thriller
Publisher: Simon & Schuster UK
Published: 2012-06-06T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER 32

Friday 14 December

All it had taken was a single phone call to the General Teaching Council for Scotland and one returned to where Narey sat impatiently in Stewart Street. Within minutes, identity confirmed, she was given the home address of Gregory Alexander Deans. He was head of the maths department at Cleveden Secondary and lived just three miles away in Vancouver Road, Scotstoun.

It was a long frustrating day waiting for a time when she could be confident that Deans would be home. Narey had been tempted to pay him a visit at school but decided against it in the end. Storming into a classroom, a staffroom or even the head teacher’s office had its appeal but she knew it could ultimately work against her. She didn’t have that much she could use as leverage against the man and knew he would be well within his rights to demand that she leave the school.

If Deans was a blackmail victim, then there were a couple of things she could deduce from that. First of all, he had something to hide; innocent people don’t get blackmailed. Secondly, he hadn’t been to the cops to tell them; innocent people don’t do that either. If he was afraid, then she wanted him to be more afraid; she didn’t want him in a place where he felt secure and protected. No, she decided she would wait until he was home and in the bosom of his family. She was pretty sure they wouldn’t be in on whatever dirty little secret he was trying to keep quiet.

She couldn’t stay away completely though and drove out to Vancouver Road just before noon to check the place out. It was a leafy, middle-class street but the set-up was slightly odd, with housing on one side and expansive rear gardens on the other, trees peering down onto the road. The Deans residence was a whitewashed mock Tudor house, which neatly matched the snowy lawn that sat behind a low railing. There was something comfortable and welcoming about it, Narey decided as she sat in her car with the engine running and the heat at full blast. It would clearly cost a right few quid but it had no air or graces – a house far too Scottish to do anything as brash as boast about what it was worth. There were few clues as to the kind of people who lived there though; all she could see through the windows was the dark promise of something unknown.

Narey knew she couldn’t sit too long on the quiet street, her car billowing exhaust fumes into the frozen air, without someone calling the police. She imagined it was the sort of place where everyone knew everyone else and strangers and their cars stuck out like sore thumbs. She wasn’t going to gain anything by having Deans tipped off about her arrival.

Instead she put the car into gear and moved off, turning onto Earlbank Avenue and heading for Milngavie. She hadn’t been to see her dad in five days and the sudden realisation filled her with guilt.

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