‘Christ above, well you know what that sounds like to me: a sexual assault.’

‘I thought so, too. There must have been plenty of that sort of thing going on in wartime. I think he endured it because of the era he lived in, men just didn’t speak up about it, there was far too much shame involved.’

The traffic started to ease, the bumper ahead moved off. Valentine selected first gear.

‘This all sounds very familiar,’ said McCormack.

‘War is hell, you mean?’

‘No. It’s familiar to the Tulloch and Finnie case in Afghanistan.’

‘The second Phil and Ally came back with the story from the lad in the barracks. It was like I could feel, no sense, the connection.’

‘The gents, this is what you’re building up to? You passed out because something happened in there and I don’t think it was a pissing contest with Flash Harris.’

Valentine broke into a weak smile. ‘Everything’s a pissing contest with Harris. But, yes, you’re right. I saw something. But that wasn’t the first time. There’s been nightmares, sweats, visions … Just like on the Janie Cooper case. I know things are getting worse though because I saw Bert, just like that time in Glasgow when I saw Janie, do you remember when I passed out?’

‘You wouldn’t let me call an ambulance.’

‘For all the good it would have done me, Sylvia. I’m strangely at ease with this today, it’s like familiar territory now. I was scared witless when it happened to me the first time and the nightmares, they’re horrific but not terrifying anymore. I don’t know, I really don’t know what I’m saying.’

‘No. I understand. You’re becoming inured to the visions, it’s like Hugh Crosbie said, you learn to separate yourself from the actual situation and become an observer of it.’

‘I wouldn’t go that far, I mean, I wouldn’t say I was comfortable enough in the situation to sit back and watch. It takes a toll, there’s a physical side.’

‘We should talk to Hugh again, I’m sure he’d be able to put you at ease that all of this is quite normal.’

Valentine spluttered, ‘You’re kidding aren’t you? I’m a grown man, a professional law enforcer, I shouldn’t be seeing ghosties.’

‘Well, if you put it like that.’

‘How else would I put it, Sylvia? I’m overwhelmed by this, it’s playing with my head and my heart’s not up to the strain. The only reason I’m not asking them to lock me up in the loony bin is because I sense that there’s some meaning to all of this, that someone is trying to tell me something that will help solve these murders.’

‘It worked before.’

‘There’s that too.’ The DI turned into a side street and lowered his speed.

‘The blackouts aren’t good though, I worry about your health.’

‘So do I, Sylvia. I wonder about the consequences, not for me but for Clare and the girls. Can you imagine the fall-out for them if it got out? That’s not my biggest concern right now though …’

‘What’s that then?’

‘Back there, in the gents, I’m not sure what Harris saw.’

‘Do you think he saw anything incriminating?’

‘I don’t know. I was out spark-cold. But if he did see something, I’m sure he won’t be long in bringing it to my attention.’

‘Or someone else’s, that would be the real worry, Bob.’

‘Yes, someone like Dino. She’s putting up with me leading the investigation at the moment but I don’t kid myself that it’s because she thinks I’m the best man for the job. It would be all too easy for her to park me on psych leave for a while and then you’d all be dancing to Harris’s tune.’

‘Surely he wouldn’t say anything, I mean, it’s his word against yours.’

‘And in that situation it comes down to who Dino has the most faith in. At the moment her faith in me is minimal.’

‘Flash Harris doesn’t have the best clear-up rate in the division, I can’t see him holding any more sway with the chief super than you or anyone else. And there’s the fact that this robbery is still unsolved …’

‘There is that, but the robbery is our responsibility now, and once Harris familiarises himself with the two unsolved murders we have on our books then the robbery is going to play to his advantage with Dino – he’ll have a running start. It’s not looking good, Sylvia, any way you dice it.’

They’d reached the Whitletts home of Kyle Brogan. Valentine started to brake, in time to hear the street debris crunching under the car’s tyres; stilled the engine and released his seatbelt.

McCormack retrieved her bag from the footwell and opened her door, said, ‘So, what did this Bert guy tell you?’

Valentine walked around the vehicle, stopped when he faced her. ‘The first time, something about finding the soldier. Today, in the gents, it wasn’t so much what he said but what he showed me.’

‘And what was that?’

The DI looked away, he was gripping the car keys in his fist as he stared into the middle distance. ‘It was a sad-looking young girl, with a bullet in her head.’

39

DI Bob Valentine led the march up the path towards Kyle Brogan’s home. The boxy council flats were surrounded by an assortment of broken children’s toys, burst bin bags and rusting engine parts. A mattress from a single bed, that had been set on fire at some stage, was being used as a trampoline by a group of kids. One of the children, a boy in ripped trackies and a Rangers top, saluted the officers with a V-sign and sparked a spate of mimicry from the others.

‘Little charmers,’ said DS McCormack.

‘You should acquaint yourself with them now, sure you’ll be taking their details down the station in a few years.’

‘Sooner for some of them, I’m sure.’

Outside the door Valentine tapped on a broken buzzer, the glass from the cover was lying smashed on the concrete doorstep; he pressed it with the sole of his shoe. ‘You know what the problem here is, don’t you?’

‘Multiple deprived family units, constellated …’

Valentine cut her off. ‘Stop that now! It’s the state of this step. Look at it, my mother used to spend hours cleaning her front step. At around eleven o’clock every morning in the street I grew up in you could see women on their hands and knees scrubbing those steps, it was a point of real shame not to have a clean step.’

McCormack eased past the DI, pushed the door open. ‘Fortunately, some of us have managed to get off our knees, sir. Which is a good job for the likes of you – might have been stuck outside this door all day without my help.’

‘Fair play. I earned that.’

On the stairwell the detectives waded through discarded White Lightning bottles and cigarette ends. There was a strong smell of urine, a stronger smell of rotting refuse and a host of other smells that were largely unidentifiable but definitely not Chanel No. 5.

‘Right, here we are, number 12b … give him a knock,’ said Valentine.

Behind the door, with its chipped paint and exposed rot, came the sound of movement. Through the glass and the faded net curtain a dark shape of a slouching man was seen. He coughed, loudly, then cleared his throat. The next sound came from the letter box rattling, a hand was stuck through and a voice followed. ‘What do you want?’

‘Open up, Kyle, it’s the rozzers,’ said Valentine.

‘I’m opening for no one, how do I know you’re what you say you are? No, get lost.’

Valentine nodded towards McCormack, who removed her warrant card from her coat pocket and flashed it in front of the letter box. ‘Please open the door, Mr Brogan.’

‘Or it’ll have a size-ten-shaped hole in it soon,’ said Valentine.

A chain rattled, a key turned in the lock. As the rusty hinges cried out the door eased open. ‘What’s all this about?’ said Brogan. He was standing in chewing-gum-coloured vest and pants, eyes smarting at the flood of daylight he was forced to face.

‘Can you not get some bloody clothes on, man?’ said Valentine.