Perfect Remains: A gripping thriller that will leave you breathless. Helen Fields

head.

      ‘You’re really going to eat all of that?’ he asked.

      ‘Absolutely. And if you don’t have some, you’re missing the point.’

      ‘How’s your case going?’ Callanach took a piece of popcorn and played with it between his fingers.

      ‘Ssssh!’ was all the response he got and he forced his attention towards the screen. Detective Inspector Ava Turner was already immersed in a North African desert in World War II.

      An hour and a half later, John Mills and Sylvia Syms had given Oscar-worthy performances, and Callanach didn’t move his eyes from the rolling credits until Ava stood up and coughed pointedly.

      ‘Now you can talk,’ she said. They went to a late night pub on Leith Street that also served reasonable coffee and sat in a corner, trying to ignore the couple next to them who were arguing loudly about wedding plans. ‘Your opinion?’ Ava asked, manoeuvring a tray onto the sticky table. On it was the coffee Callanach had requested and a brandy he hadn’t.

      ‘I think they should run away and get married in Vegas if it’s causing that much stress.’

      ‘Of the movie?’ Ava said, holding out the brandy glass. He raised an eyebrow. ‘It’s Friday night, in case you hadn’t noticed,’ she said. ‘I, for one, need a drink and drinking alone isn’t the Scottish way. Come on, admit it. The film was cinematic perfection.’

      ‘It was not what I expected,’ he said. ‘I mean that in a good way.’

      ‘Here’s to that,’ she said, taking a gulp. Her grey eyes appeared bluer in the glow of orange neon lighting. She looked every inch alive, as if just waiting for the next moment, the next challenge. For a second, Callanach wished he could climb into her skin and remember what that was like. ‘You’re going to ruin it by talking shop, aren’t you?’

      ‘Am I so very predictable after such a short time?’ he asked.

      ‘It’s your safety net,’ she said.

      ‘What’s yours?’ he asked, instantly regretting prying into her personal life again. Ava didn’t even blink.

      ‘I play act at being confident, sharp and funny,’ she said.

      ‘Why would you need to do that?’ Callanach asked, appreciating the brandy more than he’d expected.

      ‘Because then no one will see how terrified and out of my depth I feel most of the time,’ she smiled. ‘Maybe discussing work would be best.’ She drained the glass of brandy and replaced it with her coffee cup. ‘Why would two unrelated women leave their babies to die in the same park? I can’t think of a good reason, aside from there being a baby-stealing psychopath roaming the city, but then the mothers would have appeared.’

      ‘If this isn’t a copycat, and that seems almost impossible in the circumstances, then the two mothers have met, agreed to do this together. They are making a point,’ Callanach said.

      ‘Which would be?’ Ava asked.

      ‘The public disposal of the children,’ Callanach said. ‘So maybe they never wanted them in the first place?’

      ‘You’re thinking rape victims,’ she murmured.

      ‘Perhaps,’ Callanach said, ‘but there are other possibilities to consider. Often women who are trafficked whilst pregnant have their babies taken from them forcibly. That might explain the lack of complaint from the mothers.’

      ‘It might, but there’d be no point the traffickers leaving the bodies to be found. It just puts the DNA on file. It’s something to think about. Why is it easier to see other people’s cases so much more clearly than your own?’

      ‘Distance and perspective,’ Callanach said. ‘I, on the other hand, have a faceless kidnapper turned murderer who plans everything to perfection, suggesting an elevated ability to control his emotions and behaviour, but who talks to himself in public, presumably without even realising it.’

      ‘Internal debate and subconscious reassurance,’ Ava said. ‘He’s lonely, has no one to talk to or to validate his behaviour. There’s a theory that we need people to challenge us as much as to praise us, so that we can justify and reason. People lacking that create a second voice, an out loud voice.’

      ‘Do you think that’s why he took Elaine and Jayne?’ Callanach asked.

      ‘It doesn’t make any sense,’ Ava replied.

      ‘Why not?’ Callanach shifted his chair closer to Ava and away from the previously arguing couple who’d progressed to making up, and were engaging in louder than necessary kissing.

      ‘If he wants them for company, why kill them?’ Ava asked.

      ‘He’s only killed one of them, so far,’ Callanach said, ‘but if you’re right about the motive for the abduction then there’s a chance Jayne Magee is still alive, no?’

      They were interrupted by a scuffle at the door. A cursing, drunken twenty-something burst through followed by a couple of mates equally worse for wear, all staggering towards the loved-up couple on the next table.

      Callanach glanced at the barmaid who was looking around for help.

      ‘What the fuck, Suze? I still love ya. Tell me you’re no’ gonna marry this wee piece o’ shite?’

      ‘Aw, Gary, really?’ the girl answered, looking bored rather than perturbed. ‘I’ve told you, and my dad’s told you. You need to keep away from me. It’s over.’

      ‘I know you still love me. Ye said you’d always love me. And he’s an insurance salesman. What sort of pissy job is that?’

      Callanach raised his eyebrows at Ava who huffed and finished her drink.

      ‘You should leave now, pal,’ the insurance salesman-cum-fiancé declared, although he sounded more self-assured than he looked.

      ‘I’ll go when my girlfriend tells me to go. You’ll keep your gob shut, if you know what’s good for you. Come on, Suze, we need to talk outside.’