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

‘Excuse me, what’s for tea?’

Farrell foraged in the freezer and discovered some pizza and chips. He sat the kids together on the couch while it was heating in the oven. The eldest child, Molly, had such a look of Laura about her it made his breath catch in his throat. The same dark brown curls, solemn blue eyes, and dimpled chin. Already she was like a little mother hen: soothing baby Adam on her knee and silencing the two boys, Luke and Hugh, who had started to argue over a toy car.

The microwave interrupted his reverie with a ping, and he was then run off his feet for what felt like hours; shovelling food into a reluctant mouth, a stinky nappy, baths, and story time. Eventually, come 8 p.m., the kids were all settled in bed, and Farrell collapsed into a chair, more tired than he’d been for years.

Keeping his voice low, he telephoned the station and was put through to DS Stirling.

‘Just checking in. Any developments?’

‘Sod all,’ said Stirling, sounding frustrated. ‘Door-to-door enquiries revealed diddly-squat. Nobody seems to have seen or heard a thing.’

Farrell could picture the scene only too well. Everybody pumped up on caffeine and adrenalin ready to charge out the door and catch a killer. How could such a violent murderer have retained sufficient self-control to slip away leaving no obvious clues behind him? The trail was already starting to go cold, which didn’t bode well. He couldn’t share his worries with Stirling though; it was important to keep morale and energy high.

‘Early days, yet. Once we get forensics back I’m sure that will open up a few lines of enquiry.’

‘Any word on how John’s wife is doing? She’s a lovely lass, doesn’t seem fair,’ said Stirling.

‘Nothing yet. Keep me posted.’ He terminated the call and listened carefully. Not a sound from upstairs.

After a while the silence started to feel oppressive, and Farrell took out the rosary he carried everywhere and began to pray for Laura and the baby, lips moving silently as he repeated the soothing incantations. Such was his concentration he failed to notice that John had slipped in and was regarding him with troubled eyes. A polite cough had him stuffing the rosary in his pocket and leaping up out of the chair like he’d been caught doing something illicit.

‘How is she?’ he asked.

‘She’ll be fine,’ said Lind wearily.

‘And the baby?’

‘Didn’t make it,’ Lind said. ‘Stillborn. A girl …’

Farrell moved towards him, but Lind put his hands up creating a barrier. Farrell could now see that his friend’s eyes were brimming with tears that threatened to spill.

‘Don’t,’ said Lind, voice wavering.

‘Would it help to talk?’ Farrell steeled himself to ask.

‘Not now,’ said Lind. ‘Look, Frank, I can’t thank you enough for stepping into the breach like that …’

‘Hey, what are friends for?’ said Farrell. ‘You sure you’ll be OK here on your own?’

‘I’ll see you tomorrow, yeah?’ said Lind.

‘Right you are,’ said Farrell.

As he glanced back at the house, now wrapped in shadow, Farrell felt the weight of his friend’s sorrow pressing against his chest. He prayed for the soul of their stillborn child and that they be given the strength to bear it.

CHAPTER TEN (#ulink_82a3df0b-8d93-5228-8561-2de42d7c0860)

After a disturbed night’s sleep, Farrell was hotfooting it down to the Major Crime Administration room after getting his usual caffeine fix when he saw Lind bearing down on him, his face set in an uncharacte‌ristically grim expression. Immediately, Farrell tensed. Had Laura taken a turn for the worse? Lind halted in front of him, his personal anguish bricked up behind a brisk demeanour.

‘Twin boys have been abducted from Happy Faces Nursery in Catherine Street. I’ll coordinate the search from here. I’ve appointed DI Moore to head up the investigation. However, being a small force, we need all hands on deck for this one. I want you to drive to the nursery and see what you can get from the woman in charge. She didn’t make much sense on the phone. Then get over to the parents. The kids are only three years old. What they must be going through …’

Lind spun on his heel, barking orders at the swarm of officers buzzing around him as he went.

Galvanized into action, Farrell grabbed his jacket and keys and took off down the corridor.

‘McLeod,’ he bellowed. ‘You’re with me.’

Mhairi emerged from the ladies at a brisk trot looking disgruntled.

‘Is nothing sacred?’ she grumbled as she trotted to keep up with her boss’s loping stride.

‘Two three-year-olds are missing from their nursery. It seems they’ve been abducted by some nutter.’

‘Who’s the Family Liaison Officer, Sir?’

Farrell thought for a moment.

‘You are, if DI Moore has no objection. That’s if you think you can handle it?’

‘I’m sure I can, Sir.’

Their eyes met in sombre recognition. Dealing with relatives was hard enough at the best of times, but when there was a possibility that some sick creep might have killed two little kids the job would be harrowing in the extreme.

The nursery was located in a sandstone-terraced house near the Ewart Library. Cheerful pictures and smiley faces adorned the windows. As Farrell and McLeod pulled up into the adjacent kerb they had to dodge a stampede of hysterical mothers bearing their offspring away. The jungle drums had been beating in the manner of all small towns. Frightened by the commotion, the youngsters were bawling their eyes out. A crowd of onlookers were already starting to gather, ready to stake their claim in what might turn out to be a tragedy.

A slender middle-aged woman with red-rimmed eyes came to the door. Wordlessly she let them in and took them into a small tidy office. She gestured for them to sit opposite her.

‘I’m DI Farrell and this is Detective Constable McLeod,’ started Farrell. ‘And you are?’

‘Janet McDougall; I own the nursery.’ Her eyes filled and she clasped her hands together to stop them shaking.

‘Who else works here?’

‘There were three of us on duty today: myself, and two nursery assistants, Fiona Thomson and Gill Brown. They didn’t see anything as Fiona was settling the babies in another room and Gill was leading story-time in the quiet room.’

Farrell asked Mhairi to nip out and take preliminary statements from the two young women waiting outside the office, one of whom was weeping quietly while being comforted by the other. The last remaining children had now clearly left. He returned to his seat.

‘Can you tell me exactly what happened when Mark and Jamie Summers were taken?’

‘This man came,’ she began. ‘He said he was from the social work department, had an ID card with him.’

‘Did you examine it carefully?’ asked Farrell, holding her gaze.

Janet McDougall flushed but didn’t look away.

‘Of course, I did. It looked absolutely authentic. He was even wearing the same tie in the photo as he had on when he came here.’

‘What time did he arrive?’