Dead Man’s Prayer: A gripping detective thriller with a killer twist. Jackie Baldwin

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       CHAPTER THIRTEEN

      Back at the station, Farrell dodged into the washroom and soaped his face and arms up to the elbows then did it again for good measure. Sometimes this job made him feel so polluted he imagined the grime seeped right into his soul. As he rinsed off he caught a glimpse of his enraged face in the mirror and slammed his fist into the wall beside it, wishing it was Nolan’s face. The pain would help to calm him. He didn’t often lose his self-control, which had been hard won over the years, but right now he was spoiling for a fight. Anything to get those images elbowed out of his mind. Struggling for composure, he took a few deep breaths and gradually regained mastery over his emotions. Checking in the mirror that his face was once more cool and impassive, giving nothing away, he strode back out into the corridor.

      As he passed the conference suite, he glanced through the glass door and saw Border TV setting up for a televised appeal. Mhairi was inside with DI Moore and the family. He caught her eye and beckoned to her and she excused herself and hurried over.

      ‘How are they holding up?’ Farrell asked, but really he wanted to see how she was holding up, since he had taken something of a gamble in having her appointed as FLO.

      ‘Not so good, Sir,’ she replied. ‘But, I guess that’s to be expected. We had all been hoping that Nolan had them at the house so that was a massive blow. Do you think he knows the kidnapper, Sir?’

      ‘I doubt it but he might know something that we can use. He’s being interviewed shortly by DCI Lind and DS Byers. And how are you managing, Mhairi?’

      ‘Fine, Sir. I mean it’s challenging and exhausting but nothing compared to what the parents are going through.’

      Farrell could see the parents, Elspeth and Barry, being led to the table by DI Moore and the reporter taking up her position in readiness.

      ‘You’d better get back in there. I reckon they’re about to start. Keep me posted.’

      ‘Will do, Sir.’

      Farrell’s radio beeped. He’d asked Byers to let him know when Nolan was due to be questioned as he wanted to watch the interview take place from behind the one-way mirror in the adjacent room. There was nothing further he could do on the Boyd case for the time being and he wanted to keep up to speed on the missing boys just in case Lind needed backup. DI Moore seemed to have things well under control but he didn’t yet fully have her measure. His old friend hadn’t had an opportunity to grieve for his lost daughter yet, and a case of this sort was hard enough at the best of times. It would also give him an opportunity to observe Byers in action as he hadn’t been all that impressed with what he had seen so far.

      David Nolan cut a forlorn figure slumped in a plastic chair in the interview room, which, like the table, was bolted to the floor. He appeared to be sporting a few cuts and bruises more than the last time Farrell had clapped eyes on him, which he struggled to feel sorry about. Nolan’s young solicitor was obviously a local man as Byers and Stirling seemed to know him and had been exchanging small talk while setting up the recording equipment.

      The parties introduced themselves for the benefit of the tape, and Farrell learned the solicitor was called Brian Whitelaw. Stirling kicked off the questioning.

      ‘I am reminding you that you are still under caution and that anything you say can be used against you in court, do you understand?’

      Nolan nodded.

      ‘For the tape, please?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Is your full name David Henry Nolan?’

      ‘Yes.’

      ‘Date of birth?’

      ‘Fourteenth of the first, seventy-three.’

      ‘How long have you been a social worker with Dumfries and Galloway Council?’

      ‘Ten years.’

      ‘What department do you work in?’

      There was a pause. Nolan stared at the table.

      ‘Well?’

      ‘Child protection,’ he muttered.

      From his vantage point, Farrell could see Stirling clench and then uncurl his fists under the table.

      ‘Look!’ burst out Nolan, shrugging off the restraining arm of his solicitor. ‘I know how this looks but I would NEVER actually harm a child. I’m not even a bloody paedophile. At least, I don’t think I am.’

      Byers leaned across the table, his face reddening with fury.

      ‘Those kids bloody happy to be photographed while those things are done to them, are they?’

      ‘Byers!’ СКАЧАТЬ