In Plain Sight Page 6

  ‘If that’s Lisa Mitchell’s GP,’ she called after Sara, ‘I want to speak to him. The surgery said they’d get him to call me.’

  As Sara left the room, Jim entered, dressed in his sergeant’s uniform. For a moment, despite all the worry over Abi, Clare’s heart softened. God bless him. Signed off to nurse his wife after her debilitating stroke, and yet here he was in full uniform, ready to pitch in. She thought his trousers looked loose around the waist and wondered if he was so focused on caring for his wife that he was neglecting himself. She mouthed, ‘We need to speak,’ and Jim nodded.

  She turned back to the room and continued. ‘Any luck with known sex offenders?’

  A bearded officer raised his hand. ‘Not so far, boss. There’s a fair number in Fife and Dundee. We’re working our way through them but no luck so far.’

  ‘You’re checking the houses, yeah?’

  ‘Yes, boss. And they’re mostly happy to let us do it.’

  ‘Okay, keep on it until you’ve checked them all.’ Clare scanned the room. ‘Who was doing hospitals and GPs for bereaved parents?’

  Bill and Janey raised their hands.

  ‘Anything?’

  Bill shook his head. ‘Ninewells in Dundee have given us a list of recent miscarriages and we’re working through it. The nurse we spoke to said there are probably more that never come to hospital.’

  ‘Stillbirths?’

  ‘Ten in the last month. Most of the parents devastated, as you’d expect. But the nurse said one particular mum had caused them concern. Two weeks ago.’

  ‘Concern? How?’

  ‘The way she was. Wouldn’t hold the baby, didn’t want any photos, footprints.’

  ‘And that’s unusual?’

  ‘So the nurse says.’

  ‘How was Dad?’

  ‘More as they’d expect, apparently. He asked the nurses to take the photos and so on when the mum was having her shower.’

  ‘Did she see a psychologist? Or a grief counsellor, even?’

  The officer shook his head. ‘Refused. Discharged herself the next day.’

  Clare wondered about this. What was the normal reaction to such a tragic event? How on earth would a mother start to get over it? Her mind went, momentarily, to her sister Jude and her nephew James. What joy he had brought them. She couldn’t imagine her sister enduring such pain. But this woman – with her reaction – the hospital staff said she caused them concern. Was there something here? Had this woman been disturbed enough to see a baby in a pram and, in a moment of madness, to take her? It sounded unlikely, but someone had. And how would she react if she was questioned about it? Clare didn’t want to add to her pain but she couldn’t ignore it. She sighed. This case was filled with sadness.

  ‘Okay,’ she said. ‘Give me the details and I’ll follow that one up myself. For the others, remember I want promoted officers doing this in the first instance. And steer clear of the parents if you can. Speak to midwives and GPs first. We don’t want to distress anyone if we can avoid it.’ She let this sink in, then went on. ‘What about Fife hospitals?’

  ‘No stillbirths in the past month but a pretty long list of miscarriages.’

  ‘GP surgeries, Janey?’

  ‘Still checking them, boss. Spoken to about half of them so far. But Dundee and Glenrothes are pitching in so we should finish the rest this morning.’

  ‘Make it a priority,’ Clare said. ‘They all need following up. Who was checking on prison releases?’

  ‘That was Sara,’ Chris said.

  ‘Right, we’ll see what she says when she comes off the phone. Talking of which, did anything come in after the appeal was broadcast last night?’

  ‘Fifty-odd calls. Glenrothes have been helping follow them up. Reckon they should get through the last of them today.’

  ‘Okay, Chris. Keep me informed. Now…’ Clare broke off when Sara came back in. Something in the girl’s expression stopped her in mid-flow. ‘Sara?’

  ‘Pharmacy in Dundee broken into last night.’

  Clare frowned. ‘That’s Dundee’s problem, Sara. We’ve enough on here.’

  Sara stood her ground. ‘It’s what they took…’

  ‘Which was…?’

  ‘The usual – methadone, tramadol, diazepam – but there’s something else. They stole two bottles of digoxin. The pharmacist said it comes in three strengths and they took the right one for a child of Abi’s age. Whoever took it knew what they were doing.’

  Clare pondered this. ‘Is that likely to be on an addict’s shopping list?’

  A plain-clothes officer from Glenrothes raised his hand. ‘Definitely not, boss. I mean, they’ll try anything to get a hit, but it’s not the sort of drug they could sell easily.’

  Clare’s head was buzzing with this new information. What did it mean for Abi? Was it good news, if her abductors had stolen the digoxin? She began pacing back and forth, processing this development. ‘I particularly mentioned digoxin on the news report,’ she said. ‘Now, it went out about teatime on Sunday. And the pharmacy was broken into that same night.’

  ‘So, the abductors saw your appeal and realised they needed the medicine,’ Sara said. ‘It’s good news, isn’t it, boss? It means they’re looking after Abi.’

  Clare frowned. ‘I’m not so sure, Sara. It could just be a coincidence. Pharmacies are a regular target and other drugs were stolen. Could the pharmacist have made a mistake? Misplaced the digoxin? Get onto them and ask them to check again.’

  ‘Whoever did it would have to be quick,’ one of the Dundee officers said. ‘Pharmacy alarms are linked to our systems. The Bell Street lads would have a car there within minutes. It wouldn’t give the thieves long and the local dealers would know that.’

  Clare stood thinking for a few moments, her head bowed. There was so much information here to process. So many possible leads. She could feel every eye in the room on her. She had to get things clear in her head. This operation, finding Abi, all these officers. She couldn’t afford to blow it. Her mouth was dry and she licked her lips. Then she took a deep breath in and turned back to the whiteboard. ‘Right, let’s concentrate on what we do know.’

  ‘Abi’s been taken,’ Chris said.

  Clare jotted down Abi snatched twelve p.m. Sunday. Then she said, ‘I put out an appeal to the media, naming digoxin.’ She added digoxin info released six p.m. Sunday to the board.

  ‘Dundee pharmacy broken into that night,’ Bill said, and Clare jotted this down too.

  ‘Digoxin is taken, along with the usual meth and so on,’ Clare said, her pen squeaking as she wrote. ‘Why?’

  ‘Could be they were after stuff to sell on the street – took the digoxin by mistake,’ Chris said.

  Clare wrote this on the board then said, ‘Or they were after the digoxin and took the other drugs as a cover?’

  Nita raised her hand. ‘They took the right dose, boss. Maybe too much of a coincidence?’

  Clare stopped writing. ‘Yes they did. According to the pharmacist there are three strengths. So it’s a one-in-three chance.’

  ‘Are we treating the burglary as part of the abduction then?’ Chris asked.

  ‘For now – yes. Until it’s ruled out. So let’s think. Who would know which strength to steal?’

  The officers began calling out and Clare wrote steadily.

  ‘The parents.’

  ‘The GP and other staff at the surgery.’

  ‘The sister – Ashley.’

  ‘If Kevin isn’t Abi’s father, the real dad might know.’

  Clare stopped writing at that suggestion. ‘At this point, we’ve no reason to believe that is the case. Even if Lisa does have another bloke, it doesn’t mean he’s Abi’s father.’ She turned back to the board. ‘But I’ll bear it in mind.’

  ‘Staff at Ninewells Hospital? If they were treating Abi,’ someone said.

  ‘Abi’s daycare,’ Chris added. ‘Wee Tots. Staff there might know.’

  Clare wrote this on the board. ‘
Yes, they would have to know.’

  Erin raised her hand. ‘Boss, any of us could find that out on the Internet.’ She indicated her phone. ‘I’ve just googled digoxin and it’s all there. How much to give, how often and so on. Anyone who knew Abi needed it could find that out.’

  ‘That’s true, Erin, although it might vary, depending on the illness; and we’ve not released specific details of her condition.’

  ‘Is it worth checking if any doctors or nurses have had the sack lately? If they were dipping into the drugs cabinet?’ Sara asked.

  Clare considered this. ‘Possibly. But what are the chances of someone like that being connected to our abductors?’

  No response.

  ‘Well? Anyone else have any theories?’

  Silence.

  ‘Fine. Then we’ll work on the basis that Abi’s abduction wasn’t a random act. Whoever took her is educated enough to know what she needs and ballsy enough to break into a pharmacy to get it.’ She stood thinking for a moment then said, ‘I’m starting to think this isn’t a child abuse case. Can’t rule it out, of course. But if the abductor did see our broadcast they’d have realised her life would soon be in danger. I reckon a potential abuser would have dumped her somewhere. Hospital car park or somewhere she could be found quickly. Either way, they wouldn’t want her death on their hands.’

  ‘Yeah, I agree,’ Chris said. ‘They’d get rid of her as fast as possible.’

  ‘So, our abductor is someone who wants Abi to live,’ Clare said. She looked round the room. ‘Thoughts?’

  ‘Has to be family,’ Bill said.

  ‘Or someone known to the family,’ Janey added.

  ‘So, let’s prioritise friends and family.’ Clare looked at Nita. ‘Get a few more bodies to help you, Nita. I want that done this morning.’

  Hands went up and Clare nodded her thanks. ‘Now, we can’t be sure the burglary is linked to Abi’s abduction but, if it is, it buys us some time. So let’s get cracking. I want the CCTV from the pharmacy and any surrounding streets. I want the car registration and photos of the burglar. Anything we can get our hands on.’

  The phone began to ring again.

  Jim rose. ‘I’ll get it.’

  Clare nodded her thanks then turned to the whiteboard. She wrote prison releases.

  Sara raised her hand. ‘Following up three, boss. Two men and one woman. One of the men took his son from his ex’s house. Tried to take him to Spain.’

  ‘Unlikely he’s our man,’ Clare said. ‘Go on.’

  ‘The second man did six months for paedo porn on his phone.’

  Clare’s eyes narrowed. ‘Quick as you can with that one. Remind him he’s out on licence. Anything at all, he goes right back inside. The woman?’

  ‘Susan Clancy. Addict, chaotic lifestyle, had her baby taken away by social services. Apparently, she got clean in prison and now she wants the baby back. But the prison welfare officer I spoke to said that’s unlikely, given her history.’

  Clare’s eyes lit up. ‘We need to get onto that one straight away. Give me the details Sara, and I’ll look into that myself.’

  Clare turned back to the board and wrote workplaces. ‘Now,’ she said, ‘let’s check if the Mitchells have upset anyone or had any problems at work. So visits to both workplaces. Also the daycare facility. I want to know if any of the staff have noticed anything, or if there’s anybody working there with experience of sick babies.’

  Jim came back into the room. He stood, his hand still on the door jamb. Something in his manner made Clare stop.

  ‘Problem?’ she asked.

  ‘Could I have five minutes in private?’

  Clare followed him out of the room and into her office.

  Jim closed the door. ‘The DCI’s on his way, Clare. Should be here by lunchtime at the latest.’

  Clare scrutinised Jim’s face. ‘Who is it?’

  ‘Apparently they’re short of DCIs just now. Two on annual leave and another three off sick.’

  Clare sank down in a chair. ‘It’s Tony McAvettie, isn’t it?’

  Jim sighed. ‘’Fraid so. And he said he’s particularly looking forward to renewing his acquaintance with DS West.’

  ‘Dammit,’ she said. ‘Dammit to hell.’ She sat for a moment, taking this in, then rose and moved to the door. ‘I’d better go tell Chris.’ She stopped in the doorway. ‘Jim, it’s good of you to come in but I’m not sure you should be here. How is Mary?’

  ‘She’s probably as good now as she’s going to be. Her right side is affected, and she struggles with speaking. But she’s doing her exercises and the therapists are pleased with her. This morning I took her a cup of tea and she said thanks. Not too clearly, but she said it.’

  Clare squeezed his arm. ‘I’m glad. But are you sure about being back? You know you can have as much time as you need.’

  ‘I’m fine, thanks, Clare. Mary’s sister lives a few streets away, so she’ll keep an eye on her while I’m here.’ He rubbed his chin. ‘To be honest, it does me good to have something else to focus on.’

  ‘I suppose so. But see you take proper breaks, and go home on time, okay?’

  Jim smiled. ‘I will. And thanks, Clare. I appreciate it.’

  The phone in the main office began ringing again. Jim moved to answer it. Clare went to find Chris but Jim called her back. He held out the phone. ‘Lisa Mitchell’s GP.’

  Clare took the phone.

  ‘I gather you wanted to speak to me,’ the GP said. ‘Is there any sign of Abi?’

  Clare related the news of the pharmacy break-in.

  There was an audible sigh of relief from the GP. ‘At least someone’s taking care of her. Was that what you wanted to tell me? Or was there something else, Inspector?’

  ‘There is, actually. About Lisa. Her reaction. Yesterday when you saw her she was crying, shaking – as if she was in shock. She couldn’t seem to get warm.’

  ‘Unsurprising,’ the GP said. ‘Fairly typical reaction.’

  ‘But when we went back later, her mood had completely flipped. She was chain-smoking and snapping at Kevin if he so much as looked at her. I couldn’t believe it was the same person.’

  ‘And you’re wondering if that’s unusual?’

  ‘Exactly. Whether we should read anything into it.’

  ‘Hard to say. What Lisa’s experiencing is a bit like a bereavement. Something like this takes folk in different ways. Given the circumstances, it wouldn’t be unusual for her to seem frustrated.’

  ‘She didn’t seem frustrated to me. She was angry.’

  ‘My experience of this kind of thing is limited, Inspector,’ the GP said. ‘I’ve dealt with mothers whose babies have died or been stillborn, but they at least have a body to deal with – a funeral to arrange. These things give them focus and a sense of closure. Lisa and Kevin don’t have that. They can do nothing but wait. So, no, I wouldn’t say her reaction was unusual. Another mum might not react that way, but everyone is different.’

  Clare thought back to the gold necklace. ‘You’ve known the family a while. Do they seem a happy enough couple to you?’

  ‘I don’t tend to meet happy people, Inspector. Usually they’re unwell and worried about it.’

  Clare thanked the GP and rang off. She handed the phone back to Jim and returned to the incident room.

  ‘Okay, is there anything we’ve forgotten?’

  ‘Is it worth going up to the protest camp for a look around?’ someone suggested.

  ‘Good idea,’ Clare said. ‘I doubt there’s a connection but we need to cover everything. Could two of you go up and check it over, please? Are they in tents?’

  ‘Caravans and campervans.’

  ‘No slumming it for them,’ Clare said. ‘Make sure you search all the vans. Any sign of a baby, insist on seeing it. Remember Abi’s birthmark and her single tooth. Right, that’s it. Keep in touch.’

  They began to file out of the room. Clare saw Chris talking to Sara, his hand on her arm. She
wondered if this case was going to be too much for Sara. She hadn’t struck Clare as over-sensitive before but there was definitely something up with her. And, as willing as Jim was, it wouldn’t be fair to rely too heavily on him. Clare really needed Sara pulling her weight. Maybe Chris could shed some light on it. She checked her watch. There was a hell of a lot to do but a baby’s life depended on it.

  She caught Chris’s eye as she passed. ‘Come on, let’s see what Susan Clancy has to say for herself.’

  Chapter 8

  Susan Clancy lived in a flat in Alderwood, a housing scheme in the north of Dundee. The gardens in front of the flats were mostly knee-high with grass, which was littered with old washing machines and the like. A grey velour sofa, now rain-soaked, was piled high with black bin bags which had been torn open by rats or seagulls. Across the road a car with no tyres was up on bricks. A couple of toddlers were playing on the pavement while an older boy threw stones at the gulls who swooped and screamed in response.

  They climbed up two floors until they saw Flat 6, the address the Dundee officers had given them for Susan. The orange paint on the front door was peeling and someone had scratched a swastika into it. There was no sound from the bell when pressed, so Clare rapped on the door.

  ‘I’m no’ in,’ a voice said behind them. They hadn’t heard Susan climbing the steps.

  Clare turned to take her in as she approached. She was thirty, maybe. Pencil thin, her faded jeans hanging from her waist. The sleeves of her lightweight hoodie were pulled up and Clare could see the tell-tale scars going up her left arm where she had cut herself repeatedly. None of the scars looked recent, though. There were small round scars too. Cigarette burns, Clare thought. Had Susan done this to herself or had it been someone else? Her hair had been dip-dyed in the past but the ends were dry now, the roots dark. She wore no make-up but her cheeks were flushed with the effort of carrying her shopping.

  She fished in her pocket and took out a key. ‘’Scuse me,’ she said, elbowing Chris out of the way. She shoved the key in the lock and opened the door. ‘Polis, I’m guessing?’