Birthdays for the dead

A path led along the side of the building, to a cast-iron gate with an elaborate catch and no padlock. Looked as if Drummond needed someone to pop along and give him a talk about home security.

I slipped through into the back garden, then closed the gate behind Alice.

Big, lots of flowerbeds, bushes, trees, a hammock, huge greenhouse. Shadows already starting to lengthen across a neatly trimmed lawn.

The back door was part-glazed, with some sort of utility room on the other side. I stood and stared up at the building: no sign of a burglar alarm. Nothing around the front either. Drummond really did need that talk.

I grabbed a flowerpot and smashed one of the door s glass panes. Reached in and unlocked the door.

Alice shifted from foot to foot on the threshold. This is now officially breaking and entering, right?

Told you to stay in the car anyway.

Inside it smelled of fresh washing and oranges. The utility room opened on a large kitchen.

She crept in behind me, voice lowered to a whisper. What are we looking for?

Through the kitchen into a hallway with the usual assortment of jackets and keys, some shoes, a pair of long leather riding boots, a pile of mail lying on the mat. A flight of stairs heading up.

Alice tried a door it swung open on a living room with a couple of stripy sofas and a lot of wood panelling. Is he married? Because if he s married he s not likely to keep Katie here, is he, what if his wife found out, it d

Why aren t you wearing gloves?

Her eyes went wide, then she grimaced. Sorry. She wriggled her hand into the sleeve of her long-sleeved top and wiped the door handle. I ve never done this before.

Really?

We tried all the other doors on the ground floor: garage, dining room, reception room, one bathroom, one toilet. Stairs led up to the upper floor.

Bollocks.

Had to take them one at a time, one hand leaning on the walking stick, the other on the handrail. One of the doors up there was ajar. I raised the stick, placed the rubber-tipped end against the door, and pushed.

It opened on a study lined with bookshelves and framed photographs. A desk sat opposite the door, a laptop and flat-screen monitor on top, an office chair, computer tower unit and a half-height filing cabinet underneath.

Alice slipped through into the room. Maybe we can find out if he s got another house, or a lock-up or something? She tucked her hands into her sleeves again and pulled at one of the filing drawers. Locked. Oh

Try the computers. I went back onto the landing and checked the other rooms. No sign of Katie. According to my watch, it had just gone three: two hours left.

Back in the study, Alice was perched on the edge of Drummond s executive leather chair, mobile phone clamped to her ear. The flat-screen monitor in front of her displayed the Windows log-in screen. Uh-huh No I tried that OK, hold on She dragged around her satchel, pulled out her laptop and stuck it on the desk. Pressed the power button. Yes, it s booting up now.

No joy?

She jerked around, one hand on her chest. Don t sneak up on me like that! You know I m nervous enough as it A frown. She shifted her grip on the phone.

No, not you, Sabir, it s my aunt. Right, my machine s ready. Alice poked at the keyboard.

I took a tour of the bookshelves. A large SLR digital camera sat between a set of P.D. James novels and a copy of Sexual Homicide: Patterns and Motives. I took the camera down and played with the switches until the thing beeped and the screen on the back lit up.

Uh-huh That s it downloaded. Connecting it with the USB cable OK, here we go. She drummed her fingers on the desk. It s running.

Looked as if Drummond had a thing for photographing people walking their dogs. I flicked through them. Kings Park, Montgomery Park, Camburn Woods.

We re in! Sabir you re a genius Alice grinned. The flat-screen monitor changed to an almost empty desktop with icons along the bottom. No, I don t know how Aunty Jan managed to forget her log-in details Yes, I ll make sure she writes them down this time, thanks, Sabir.

Alice hung up and went to work with the computer mouse, clicking on things filling the screen with folders and documents.

I kept going through the photos. More dog walkers: Moncuir Woods, the Bellows.

What if Drummond wasn t the Birthday Boy? What if he was just like Steven Wallace?

Two hours left; it had to be him. Because if it wasn t, Katie was dead.

Alice cleared her throat. Ash?

A woman walking a Dalmatian through the rain, her yellow umbrella glowing like a slice of the sun. Next photo

Ash?

The camera trembled in my hands as I stared at the little screen.

Jesus.

Ash, you have to see this.

A little girl couldn t have been more than three or four naked, lying on top of a double bed, crying. A man wearing nothing but a Homer Simpson mask stood next to the bed, playing with himself. The next picture was worse.

Ash, Assistant Chief Constable Drummond s computer is full of child pornography. There has to be thousands of images here, videos too.