Buried Secrets (DCI MacBain Scottish Crimes Book 1)

by Oliver Davies

  “Hurry up.”

  Fletcher reached her full height and stretched her hands for the wooden hatch. She grunted as she pushed against it. “It’s stuck!”

  “What?” I snapped, and the force of my question nearly threw us off balance.

  Fletcher caught her fingers in the edges of the hatch and helped steady us. “It won’t budge. They must have put something on top of it.”

  “You can’t force it?”

  She tried again, but between our poor balance and her lack of leverage, she couldn’t manage it, and she huffed out a sigh of defeat. “I can’t.”

  “Okay. Get down.”

  “How?” she demanded, a small squeak in her voice.

  A good question. I didn’t have an answer for her.

  Fletcher slowly crouched down until her hands were on my head again, and then I began to lower the two of us to the ground. I only made it halfway before my legs gave out and I lost my balance, spilling us the rest of the way. Luckily, we didn’t have far to fall, and I got away with only another bruise to the tailbone.

  “I guess we wait for that backup,” I said, and Fletcher’s glare clearly said that she wanted to shoot at me.

  “I guess we do.”

  “What was that outside?” she asked a few minutes later when she’d wrangled her emotions back into place.

  “What was what?” I asked. I’d gone back to lying flat on my back as I stared up at the ceiling, feeling utterly drained.

  “You kind of… tortured that guy.”

  “I didn’t torture him,” I snapped without much venom since when I thought back to that moment, I began to feel a bit sick, my gorge rising.

  “You stuck your finger in his injury in order to get information from him,” Fletcher said flatly. “What else would you call it?”

  I was silent. She was right. “I shouldn’t have done it,” I admitted. “I don’t have an excuse. I was so amped up from the fight and so worried about Finn that my temper slipped away from me. I’ve always struggled with controlling my anger.” I laughed sourly. “Which is not a good trait for a police officer.”

  “It’s not,” Fletcher agreed quietly.

  I turned my head to look at her. I wanted her to see the sincerity in my face. “But I’m working on it. I promise.”

  “I believe you.” She stuck out her pinky for me to take. “How about you also promise to listen to me next time I tell you to dial it back?”

  I crooked my finger around hers and squeezed it. “Deal.”

  Backup arrived some ten minutes later. Dimly, through the thick stone walls of the basement and the earth surrounding us, I heard the rumble of several cars pulling up the hill. I hit Fletcher’s arm to grab her attention from where she lay on the ground with her eyes closed, and she quickly sat up, half a smile catching her lips when she realized what was going on.

  Quickly, we stood up and began to shout, aiming our voices at the hatch in the hope that Dunnel would hear us. After a minute, boots tramped by overhead, and I could hear the murmur of voices, though I couldn’t make out the words through the stone. Fletcher grabbed a couple of rocks off the ground and chucked them at the ceiling as we continued to yell. Something scraped against the hatch, and then light poured into the basement, blinding me.

  Once I’d blinked the stars away, I saw Dunnel’s face peering down at us, holding a high-powered torch. “Didn’t need back up, eh?” he said.

  “I get it!” I snapped.

  “Catch this,” Fletcher said, and she threw one end of the rope up to Dunnel.

  He snagged it out of the air and barked over his shoulders at the constables accompanying him, “Help me with this!”

  I motioned for Fletcher to go first, and she wrapped the rope around her arm, holding tightly to one of the climbing knots while her feet hooked around the one at the bottom. Dunnel and the constables worked together to pull her out of the hole, Dunnel reaching out a hand to help her climb through the hatch when she reached the top. Then they dropped the rope back down to me and repeated the process, Dunnel’s fingers tight around my hand as I dragged myself free of the sticky darkness.

  The three police cars spilt strobing light across the hillside, though the sirens were mercifully silent. The Castle of Old Wick was packed to the brim with us, Dunnel, and his three constables, and I saw two more scouring the area outside, torches in hand. The kidnappers’ vehicles were long gone, and when a light passed over the bush where I’d handcuffed the burly man, I saw that the trunk had been cut, the entire plant tipped onto its side. “We’ve got blood!” the nearby constable called.

  “I shot one of them,” I explained to Dunnel.

  “Are you two hurt?” Dunnel asked as he shone his light in my face. “Your pupils look dilated.”

  “He hit his head a bunch,” Fletcher supplied helpfully.

  “I have a thick skull.” I pushed Dunnel’s torch away before it could blind me. “The whole thing was a setup.”

  “And a bust,” Fletcher added. “They got away.”

  Dunnel winked at us. “I wouldn’t be too sure about that. Follow me.”

  Fletcher and I glanced at each other curiously, then followed Dunnel out of the tour towards the squad of cars. He led us to the last vehicle in the line and opened the door. Handcuffed in the backseat and looking absolutely furious was the burly man with the scar that I had shot. He snarled something incomprehensible when he saw us and then looked pointedly out the other window.

  “Would you look at that? Where d'you find him?” I asked. I couldn’t help but laugh a little bit.

  “Believe it or not, your kidnappers had some car trouble. They blew out a tyre about two kilometres down the road and bolted when they saw us coming, leaving their friend here behind when he couldn’t keep up.”

  “Did your friends abandon you?” I asked with mock compassion. “How’s that feel?”

  The man sneered at me, but it was a half-hearted attempt. He was in trouble, and he knew it. Dunnel shut the door on him, and we stepped away from the car to talk.

  “I’ll have Fields take you home. I’m sure you’re exhausted. You will brief me first thing tomorrow morning before you do anything else.” He looked right at me as he said it. “I’ll approve the weekend overtime.” He waved to Fields, and she stopped what she was doing to jog over to us.

  “My car is just down the road. We’ll take that,” Fletcher said.

  Dunnel gave me a look.

  “First thing tomorrow,” I promised.

  “Good. These kidnappers might reach out and try to set up some kind of deal. We need to be ready for that. For now, try to get some sleep. You’ll need it.”

  “Yes, sir.” Fletcher and I saluted Dunnel and then began the kilometre trek back to her car.

  It was easier going down the road than forging a path through the brush, but it wasn’t long before a bone-deep weariness settled over me. The ten-minute walk seemed to take an eternity, but I kept putting one foot in front of the other, and eventually, Fletcher’s car appeared in the light of our torches. Stifling a yawn, she handed Fields the keys, and since it was her car, I let her take the front. Mostly, I wanted to be able to stretch out across the backseat. Since the car only had two doors, she pushed her chair forward, and I half-climbed, half-fell over it into the back.

  Almost as soon as the car began to move, I drifted off. Every speck of adrenaline had drained away, leaving me unable to keep my eyes open, and I didn’t fight it, grateful for the way sleep lifted the ache from my bones.

  Two hours later, a hand shook me awake, and I blearily opened my eyes to find that we were outside my tiny apartment just outside the city centre. I stumbled out of the car, thanking Fields for the ride, and fumbled my keys into the lock. I kicked off my boots, shucked my duster, and found my way to the bathroom in the dark. The shower hissed as it started up and then began to spit out cold water. As tired as I was, I couldn’t go to be covered in mud and blood. As I waited for the stream to warm up, I took out my newly c
racked phone and looked at Lena’s message. It was late, but I texted her back anyway.

  “Case didn’t wrap up. Can we postpone?”

  Evidently, Lena was still awake because she replied only a few seconds later.

  “I’m sorry to hear that. We could still get drinks?”

  “Might be a conflict of interest, since you’re a witness in the case.”

  She wasn’t a suspect, though, so maybe it would be alright. We needed to move fast to save Finn, though, and I felt guilty that I was considering going on a date while his life was still in danger.

  “Another time, then.” She added a smiley face to the end of the sentence, but I felt as if I could see the disappointment in the words.

  “Another time,” I agreed, staving off my own regret. I had more important things to worry about than my love life.

  Sixteen

  I could barely move the next morning. When I looked in the mirror, my entire body was black and blue. My hair needed a cut, but I slicked the unruly locks back with a rather ridiculous amount of product and then prodded the angry red scrape on my cheek. The skin around it was shiny and swollen, and I winced when I touched it. There was a scab on my scalp where I’d hit the back of my head, and I had cloth burn on my elbows and knees. Maybe it was a good thing I wasn’t going on a date looking like this.

  A car honked outside just as I was finishing the last of my coffee, and I gathered up my things as I headed for the door. My own ride would be out of the shop tomorrow, hopefully, but until then, I’d had to ask Fletcher for a ride.

  She looked about as rough as I did when I climbed into her front seat. Her foundation couldn’t cover up the black eye swelling up one side of her face, and her knuckles were scraped red and raw on the wheel.

  “We almost match,” she said, pointing at my cheek.

  “What a pair,” I agreed as she put the car in gear. “Got anything stronger than paracetamol?” I’d taken four with my coffee, but it wasn’t enough.

  Fletcher shook her head.

  We drove to the station in silence. I was still too tired from the night before to summon up a conversation. I’d slept like the dead, but it seemed like my alarm went off a minute after I closed my eyes.

  Once we arrived, we made our way straight to Dunnel’s office. I knocked once, and he waved us in through the window, already buried up to his elbows in paperwork despite the early hour. I sank gratefully into one of the chairs before his desk.

  “I want a full report of what happened yesterday,” Dunnel said. He set aside the file in front of him to give us his full attention.

  “After we interviewed Lena Taggert, we went to speak with Finn’s friends,” I began. “We got a call from the lab saying they’d found blood on Finn’s scarf. We were headed back to the station when Haruto called about his stalkers. You know the next bit.” Dunnel nodded. “They ran, we gave chase, and they attacked us.”

  “They wanted to kill us,” Fletcher added.

  “We followed up on the licence plates. They were bought by some company called Allraise Ventures,” I continued.

  Dunnel woke up his computer and clicked over to one of his many open browser tabs. “I looked up Allraise Ventures while you were off running towards your deaths.” He gave me a hard look as he said that. I stared back shamelessly. “They’re some kind of charity foundation. Supposedly, they do work promoting literacy in underprivileged children around the world, but if you look a little deeper, it doesn’t seem like they’ve ever actually done anything.”

  “A shell company,” I agreed. “So they can move money around without it being traced back to them. Whoever this ‘they’ is.”

  “Right. I had DC Barnes make you a file. It should be on your desk.” Dunnel motioned for me to continue with my report. “What happened next?”

  “Lena Taggert called me and said she thought a man we had in custody might be Finn’s father.”

  “Alec MacGowan, tagged for robbery a couple of days ago,” Dunnel said, and I nodded.

  “Right. He told us that an unknown group of people kidnapped his son in order to blackmail him into stealing the deed to the Castle of Old Wick. He was convinced that these people would know that he’d talked to us and would hurt Finn, so I made the decision to move quickly and go to the castle without waiting for backup. I thought that if Finn was there, we had no time to lose. Unfortunately, I was wrong. It was a trap.”

  “You shot the man we’ve got in custody, yes?”

  “I did. He was attempting to choke Fletcher. I tackled him and had to shoot him in the leg to subdue him. I’ll fill out the paperwork for discharging my weapon as soon as I can.” Dunnel was a real stickler for proper paperwork, and he nodded with approval when I said that. “Has he spoken? Can we take a crack at him?”

  Dunnel sifted through his files until he found the one he was looking for. “We got a hit in our system. His name is Seamus O’Connell. He’s been picked up before for breaking and entering, assault, and carrying a deadly weapon. He’s been waiting for you in the interrogation room for the past hour. I thought I’d let him stew for a little bit.”

  “I appreciate it. And thank you for coming to our aid yesterday. I don’t know what we would have done without you.”

  “This is why I told you to take backup,” Dunnel said.

  I was never going to hear the end of that.

  Dunnel gave me O’Connell’s file and dismissed us. “Oh, and Mr Sato is here,” he said just as I was about to leave his office. “You should speak with him.”

  “We will.”

  First, though, I went to the kitchen for another cup of coffee, and Fletcher glanced over the box of yesterday’s scones but turned her nose up at them. I looked around until I spotted Haruto sitting in the nearby breakroom, his protection detail lounging on the couch as he struggled to focus on the book in his hand. His eyes kept jumping off the page, and he seemed to shut it gratefully as Fletcher and I approached him.

  “How are you doing?” I asked as I sat down across from him. Fletcher went to poke around in the fridge.

  “I’m okay,” he said. “I didn’t sleep. I feel guilty that DCs Collins and Fawkes had to stay up all night.”

  “We’re used to it,” Collins promised from the couch with a dismissive wave. Fawkes appeared to be fast asleep.

  Fletcher returned with some kind of pudding cup in her hand. “Is that yours?” I asked.

  She stuck a spoon full of mousse and sponge in her mouth. “No.

  “Just don’t get caught.” People were very protective of their snacks around here, particularly pudding. I turned back towards Haruto. “Any white vans or people watching you?”

  “Not that we saw,” Haruto said, including Collins and Fawkes in that we. “Maybe you scared them off.”

  I doubted that. People willing to kill police inspectors didn’t usually scare off easily. Chances were, they were just regrouping, plotting their next move or waiting for us to let our guard back down.

  “Have you ever heard of Allraise Ventures?” I asked.

  “I…” Haruto stopped, thought about it. “Yes, actually. I have. I believe they’re funding my project.”

  “What does that mean?” Fletcher finished her pudding and threw the empty plastic cup at the nearby rubbish bin. She missed and had to stand sheepishly and go retrieve it. “Do they get to keep the manuscript when you’re done?”

  Haruto shook his head. “No, of course not. If it’s displayed in a museum, their name will go with it. Otherwise, it’s a completely philanthropic gesture.”

  Then why watch Haruto? If they were simply keeping an eye on their investment, they wouldn’t be so clandestine about it, nor would they have attacked us. So what did they want?

  “Do you have any way of getting in contact with your donors?” I asked.

  “Unfortunately, no. Once they’ve donated the money, their part is done.” Haruto shrugged apologetically, as if it were somehow his fault.

  I sighed. I would like somet
hing to go easily just once. Just once. Was that too much to ask? “I guess our next step is to track down something tangible about Allraise Ventures. I’m going to leave your protective detail in place for now. They will call me the moment they see something suspicious.” I gave Collins and Fawkes a pointed look, and Collins slapped Fawkes on the leg to wake her up. She snorted and shot upright.

  “I’m awake,” she said quickly.

  “We’ll call you, sir,” Collins promised.

  “Good. This is where we leave you then. We’ve got another suspect to question.”

  Fletcher and I stood and said goodbye to Haruto before we left him with the other constables, and I flipped the switch in my brain to hop over to the Wair case. We had a suspect stewing in interrogation. I needed another cup of coffee first. If only there was a way to add an extra shot of espresso or even a splash of whiskey. The pre-made pot just wasn’t cutting it.

  “Ready to talk to a kidnapper?” I asked Fletcher, blowing on the hot coffee before I took a sip. I dumped a couple of spoonfuls of sugar and some milk into it, and that helped a bit.

  Fletcher pounded her fist into her other hand. Moving as one, we crossed the station floor and let ourselves into the interrogation room, and I slammed the door behind us.

  O’Connell couldn’t help but jump. He’d been given a fresh shirt and joggers, and I could see the bump of the bandage around his leg through the loose fabric. His biceps were as large as my head and strained the sleeves of his shirt, coated in a dark hair to match his head. After his initial shock, he gathered himself and glared at us as we took our seats across the table.

  “Seamus O’Connell,” I began. “Quite a record you’ve racked up. What made you decide to add kidnapping to the list?”

  “I’m not saying anything without my lawyer present,” O’Connell drawled.

  I wanted to smack the smug look off his face, but instead, I opened the manilla folder in my lap. “Yes. It says here you called Smith, Flynn, and MacDonald. That’s a pretty high calibre firm, isn’t it, Fletcher?”