Read Wilderness (Arbogast trilogy) for Free Online

official statement going out on this in the next hour. I’ll get bollocked if I say anything more to you just now but keep in touch.”
    Frank hung up and left Sandy holding the phone about twelve inches from his face, looking down the receiver as if some hidden gem was going to jump out and give him more information. He was intrigued and wondered what the police were hiding.
    ***
    Rosalind Ying had that sinking feeling. The results from the Police National Computer had not been good. The driver, Stevie Davidson, was listed on the Sex Offenders Register. More than that he had tried to abduct a girl ten years ago when he was only fifteen but had been caught by a passerby and arrested. He had done two years but was released early on good behaviour. It seemed the authorities felt he was no longer a risk.
    “Fuck,” Rosalind knew this was going to be a massive case and that she had to make the right decisions now if they had any chance of finding the pair alive. The first thing to do was to appoint a team but she knew N Division did not have the resources to police this adequately. She picked up the phone and contacted Chief Constable, Norrie Smith. It was agreed that he would assume overall control of the investigation while she acted as Senior Investigating Officer. Norrie Smith told her he would select the team with the best experience in this field, bringing together IT, intelligence, family liaison and someone from the Major Crimes and Terrorism Unit (MCTU). They agreed to liaise with the media team who would call a press conference within the next two hours to issue an appeal for information. They both agreed that there had to have been more people on that bus who could help. When the conversation ended Rosalind sat back and took one long deep breath, slide her hands back through her hair. ‘I have to get this right.’
     
    ***
    Arbogast felt like death. Why was it that every major moment of his life always coincided with a hangover? A friend from England had once suggested the Scots had a self destruct mechanism which seemed to have a habit of kicking in at just the wrong time. He had protested against that at the time arguing it was nothing more than a petty prejudice but perhaps it wasn’t too far off the mark. Arbogast thought the weather played a major part in the national psyche – the further North you went the worse the boozing became. He was surprised once, when visiting Thurso, to have found a sign on the main street pointing the way to the Samaritans. The suicide rate there was high but he wasn’t that bad yet was he?
    Normally he would have driven to work but now that he was based out of Pitt Street he no longer had the luxury of a parking space. If he needed transport he’d use one of the pool cars. Leaving early he felt fresh in the winter wind. It was not snowing in Glasgow anymore and he knew it wouldn’t be long before heavy footfall and concerted effort would transform the city streets back to their everyday condition. His first appointment of the day was with the Chief Constable and the DCI. He imagined the first week would be induction heavy and work-light which suited him perfectly.  He was only half way there when his phone rang.
    “Arbogast?” It was a tinny voice at the end of the line, number withheld.
    “Speaking,”
    “Chief Constable, Norrie Smith, here. I need you in the office. Presentable – and within the hour.”
    “I’m just on my way in. I thought our meeting was at 10?”
    “There’s been a change of plan Arbogast. I’ve seen your record and I need your expertise for a developing case. We seem to have a child abduction case out in Lanarkshire. I see from your files you dealt with the so-called Cat Sack case two years ago.”
    Arbogast winced. It had been a difficult case to work and not one he liked to remember. They had tracked down the suspect but the boy had died. He should have done more.
    “We all remember the case and there’s nothing more you could have done.