Snared by Ed James Page B

okay.” Karen reached across the table, warm fingers wrapping around Vicky’s blocks of ice. “Think of it this way. Bella could maybe do with having a father figure around.”
    “I never thought of that.”
    “Just make sure you get some action, okay?” Karen laughed. “Your knicker drawer must be like an Ann Summers clear-out sale. You must get through a lot of batteries.”

Chapter Twenty-Two
    V icky picked her phone up from the desk. No more prevaricating. She texted Liz. About date — can make it.
    The phone lit up with a reply. Gulistan at 7. OK? L
    Vicky replied, Okay , before chucking her mobile in her bag. She cleared her throat to loosen the knot in her neck.
    She looked around — the adjacent desks were empty. Still no Zoë or Considine. She got out a sheet of paper and jotted down everything she knew about the case.
    Animal cruelty seemed to be the clear motivation, at least from the notes left at the crime scenes. That they were all sent by the same people was a fairly safe assumption, even ahead of Considine’s forensic searches. She’d nothing to dispute the fact they were linked, and the sighting of the black car at all three sites backed it up.
    The Cupar case, though . . . She just didn’t know. Assuming a link, they were both motivated by revenge against people who’d committed publicly known acts of animal cruelty.
    Dumped a cat in a bin? You get stuck in a bin.
    Made your dogs breed too closely? You get forced to have sex with your brother.
    Thinking of it that way, Rachel had to be the target. They hadn’t found anything on Paul so far — he just seemed like an ordinary bloke, with no enemies and nothing against him on public record.
    She picked up the photocopies of the notes and read through them again.
     
    We have your wife. She is safe. Do not worry. Much.
    We have your husband. He is safe. Do not worry. Much.
    See? They’re fine. Not so nice, is it?
     
    The first two were ambiguous. No political or moral messages there. Not so nice, is it? It had to be against Rachel. Rachel was a dog breeder. Attempting to force her to have sex with a close family member — genetically, even if they weren’t necessarily on friendly terms — seemed close to what Gary Black said she was making her dogs do.
    She dug out her copy of the newspaper articles relating to the case. The top one had an interview with the manager of a dog rescue centre, Alison McFarlane. She seemed to insist dog breeding was a form of cruelty. “ ‘They should be strung up . ’ ”
    Vicky stared out of the window for a while, watching the traffic slowly shift down the Marketgait. Definitely worth speaking to her.
    Considine slumped in his chair, chewing gum, his face flushed red. “Afternoon.”
    “Have you been to the pub?”
    Considine smirked. “Just been out for a ramble.”
    “A ramble?”
    “Yeah, Friday afternoon rambling club. Me, Kirk and Summers go for a ramble every week.”
    “Sounds like a pub trip to me.”
    “Okay, fine but it was just the one. I’ll be fine by the time we knock off.”
    Vicky pointed to the desk next to her. “Seen Zoë?”
    “Who?”
    “The IT analyst.”
    “I thought that was your daughter and it was ‘bring your kids to work day’.”
    “Christ, Stephen, Bella’s only four.”
    “Sorry.” Considine yawned. “Do you need me this afternoon?”
    “It just so happens I do.”

Chapter Twenty-Three
    T he Tayside Animals! kennel was just round the corner from the police station on Brown Street, the side of the building filled with the Ta! logo in purple.
    Vicky nodded at the sign as they walked up. “Says a lot about Dundee that it’s got two kennels really central in the town.”
    “Aye, but the dogs are making an absolute racket.” Considine stopped and pointed at the sign next door for a halal meat packer. “Suppose they can just chuck them in there when they don’t get rehomed.”
    Vicky grabbed his shoulder. “If you ever say that again, I’ll get you