by Owen Mullen
‘She says she loves you.’
Gavin bent to kiss his wife’s upturned face. ‘Next time you see her, tell her he loves her, too.’
He sat down across from her. ‘I’m lost, Mo, I really am.’
She reached over and squeezed his hand. ‘Do you want to talk about it?’
Her husband yawned. ‘It’s a long story. Where would I begin?’
‘I’m not going anywhere.’
‘Adele thinks Blair’s having an affair with Mackenzie.’
‘Well, I gathered that much.’
‘You reckon there’s something to it?’
She considered lying and changed her mind. ‘Honestly, I don’t know. He obviously likes her. Then again, this is Blair we’re talking about. He likes everybody; he’s a nice guy.’
‘So why does a nice guy need a lawyer?’
‘Now you’ve lost me.’
Gavin collected his thoughts. ‘Andrew Geddes spoke to Adele earlier. Blair didn’t show – he ducked out. She called me and was pretty upset. Apparently, he didn’t come home last night, either. I phoned him and told him to get his arse in gear and contact Geddes.’
‘And did he?’
‘He certainly did. Only showed up with a bloody lawyer.’
‘You’re joking. Why bring a lawyer?’
‘Good question. Wish I knew the answer. But it doesn’t look great, does it?’
‘Does Adele know?’
‘Not yet.’
‘Don’t you think you should tell her?’
‘Tell her what? Nothing I could say will make her feel any better. I’ll wait ’til I know more.’
‘Poor Adele. Those boys of theirs aren’t children, they’ll know something’s wrong. Bound to.’
‘Christ. I forgot all about the kids. What a mess.’
For a minute they didn’t speak; what was there to say? Monica brought them into the present.
‘So what about the interview then?’
‘No idea. Haven’t spoken to Andrew. Don’t expect he’d tell me anyway. Andrew Geddes is a policeman. Doubt he’d bend the rules for a friend, let alone an acquaintance.’
‘That’s that then.’
Well…not quite.’
‘Why? What else is there?’
‘I followed Blair tonight.’
Monica pulled herself up straight. ‘You did what?’
‘A couple of nights ago Adele asked me to follow him. I wasn’t keen. But when I heard he was taking a lawyer that convinced me.’ Gavin played with his fingers and avoided looking at her. ‘I was waiting when they came out of the police station and trailed them into the city. The lawyer dropped him at the Lorne Hotel in the West End.’
‘Did he see you?’
‘Don’t think so, but by the time I got inside there was no sign of him. I asked at reception. They don’t have a Gardiner staying with them. Maybe he did see me and left by another door.’
‘Or the room’s registered under another name?’
Gavin stroked her cheek. ‘Why didn’t I think of that?’
She smiled. ‘You’re a man. When it comes to deception, you’re all amateurs. Where do you go from here?’
‘That’s easy. For the next few days I’ll take your car. Blair’s never seen it.’
‘And what about Derek, will you tell him?’
He thought about it. Derek Crawford pointing the finger at his brother-in-law had sown the seeds of mistrust, poisoned the water for all of them. ‘Not yet, he’s fired up enough. Besides we still aren’t sure what’s going on. But if Blair’s with Mackenzie it’ll tear the family apart.’
Day Eleven
The Baxter House
Lowther Hills
The next time she wakened, the heater was off and the room was in darkness. Mackenzie tensed. Had he come back? Was he in the chair? She listened for the sound of his breathing and heard nothing. She was alone. But he must have returned, otherwise the light would be on.
Had he touched her when she was sleeping? The thought sickened her.
Mackenzie’s tongue felt thick in her mouth and her brow was on fire. She needed water. It took three tries, each one more demanding than the last, before she could drag herself into a sitting position and pull on the tracksuit bottoms. Getting to her feet was the next challenge. The first attempt ended in failure. She collapsed on the floor, the cold stone soothing her burning skin. How easy it would be to close her eyes and surrender.
She blindly felt her way. Something jagged cut into her knee and Mackenzie cried out: the prong of the belt he’d used to beat her. It gave her an idea. But first she had to have water. Disorientation threatened to overwhelm her and she fought a constant battle against panic. In a strange way, the chain rattling, knowing where it led, reassured her. Mackenzie crawled on, blotting out the pain wracking her body.
Her fingertips traced the bristles of the toothbrush and the smooth tube beside it; she almost cried. From there, finding what she wanted was easy. She unscrewed the top, put the bottle to her lips and drank, then, using the chain to guide her, she retraced her steps.
Returning to the bed was like meeting an old friend. Mackenzie tied the harsh reminder of what she’d endured round her chest, pulling it as tight as she could to bind her ribs. Employing the weapon that had been used on her was ironic but it helped and she could breathe more easily. As she fastened the buckle an idea almost too futile to contemplate came to her.
She sat on the edge of the mattress, working the prong in the keyhole, hoping against hope it would spring. Nothing happened. She tried again with the same result: it had been a long-shot, a stupid notion born of desperation, but she kept at it. Just as she was about to give up a miracle happened. With a click, the lock released and Mackenzie was free. She rubbed her wrists, savouring the moment, realising it was only a beginning.
Crossing the cellar was the next move, and the hardest. In her mind’s eye she pictured the staircase on the other side. If she moved in a straight line she would reach it. Mackenzie put the torn tracksuit top on, tied the belt around her chest again, and got on all fours using the chain to guide her as far as it would go. After what seemed like hours, her fingers touched the rough wood of the bottom step and she rested, physically and emotionally spent, her breath wheezing in her chest like an old woman.
It was taking too long. If her jailer returned and discovered her like this, he’d kill her for sure.
And he’d have won. She couldn’t allow that.
Her resolve to escape came back and she went on. Halfway up, she almost passed out. Only by telling herself that every step was a step closer to freedom was she able to continue. Somehow she reached the top and struggled to her feet, elated. She felt for the light switch, turned it on and took her first real look at her prison. Viewed from this angle, the room was surprisingly small, the bed no more than a dozen yards away. Not how it had seemed on the floor in the darkness. She nervously tried the door, praying it was unlocked. If it wasn’t, it had all been for nothing.
The handle turned and she stumbled along the hall into the grey early morning, shielding her eyes, breathing air sweeter and cleaner than any she’d ever tasted.
She scanned the horizon searching for the white van, seeing only hills rising and falling on every side, broken by a distant line of wind turbines, silent sentinels in the dawn. The stalker hadn’t lied: there was no one to hear her scream.
She limped towards the road. When she looked back she couldn’t see the derelict house where she’d been held captive.
The growl of a diesel engine broke the quiet and a flatbed truck with a white-haired man in his seventies behind the wheel came into sight. Mackenzie waved. The farmer waved back and drove past. She shouted but the truck rolled on by. The tracksuit – what was left of it – had made him think she was a jogger out for a run. After all she’d been through, the disappointment was crushing. Mackenzie sat on the grass and wept, unable to recognise herself as the woman she’d been only days ago.
She felt light-headed, her vision blurred, and every breath was agony. Her tired eyes registered something on the horizon coming towards her. With the last of her strength, Mackenzie struggled to her feet and staggered into the middle of the road. This might be her only chance, her only hope, she couldn’t lose it.
The car dipped out of sight and she prayed it hadn’t gone another way. When it reappeared, gratitude like she’d never known surged through her. She raised her arm to attract the driver’s attention. A frail voice, not her own, whispered on the breeze.
‘Help! Help! Please help me!’
The vehicle drew up and a man got out. Mackenzie sank to her knees, tearing her hair, wailing in anguish.
He was wearing a black coat.
* * *
The stalker looked down at her, his features distorted with rage. ‘What the fuck!’ He dragged her to her feet and slapped her, splitting her lip. ‘Ten out of ten for effort. Give you that much.’
Mackenzie hit out. He punched her again, dragged her by the hair to the rear of the vehicle and threw her in the boot. The door closed. He didn’t secure her wrists, assuming it wasn’t necessary. His prisoner was weak, her spirit broken, barely holding on. Mackenzie lay on the floor, devastated and exhausted. Escape had seemed impossible, yet she’d come so close. If only the farmer had stopped or she’d walked in the other direction. All the effort had been for nothing, and the thought of going back to the underground prison was more than she could stand. She drew on reserves of strength and determination she hadn’t known existed.
It couldn’t be over, she wouldn’t let it be over.
She would fight this monster with the last breath in her body.
She struggled to unfasten the belt – the only weapon she had. In the front seat, the stalker whistled tunelessly as if he hadn’t a care in the world. The car stopped, the boot opened and he hauled her into the morning.
‘Home sweet home,’ he said, and laughed at his joke. ‘Good to see the old place again, isn’t it?’
This was the moment of truth. If she let herself be taken to the cellar she wouldn’t be coming out again.
His hand tightened round her left arm and led her to the door. Under her tracksuit Mackenzie gripped the buckle in her clenched fist so the prong stuck through her fingers and readied herself. There would only be one opportunity to hurt him. She had to make it count. Over-confidence made him careless. He didn’t see the blow coming and didn’t realise what was happening until the prong pierced his flesh and buried itself just below his ear.
He screamed and staggered away. She followed, stabbing him again, in the chest this time. The stalker stared in disbelief at the belt in her hand. For seconds neither of them moved. Mackenzie lunged at him trying to get his eyes. He took the blow on his arm, deflecting it and kicked her legs from under her. She lost her grip on the leather belt and he seized it, raging out of control. ‘You cunt! You fucking cunt!’
He pushed her inside the house. At the top of the stairs, Mackenzie made a final attempt to fight back, throwing herself at her tormentor. He punched her in the face and forced her down the stairs into the place she’d hoped she’d left forever.
She shut her eyes as her clothes were ripped from her body. The last thing she remembered was lying naked on the bed with the man in the black coat standing over her, breathing hard, turning the belt in his hands.
He smiled for the first time. ‘Think of this as your reward. Enjoy it. I will.’
* * *
Gavin Darroch had assumed bringing the police in on his sister’s disappearance would help. Arguably, it had made things worse: two marriages were in the balance and he doubted they could be saved. Mackenzie’s performance at Adele’s birthday party convinced the family the Crawfords’ relationship was doomed. It had certainly looked like it. Discovering Blair’s infidelity was more shocking. Honest, reliable Blair – backed into a corner – and forced to show up at Cathcart police station with a lawyer to defend himself against accusations yet to be made.
Things had taken a turn for the better with him and Monica and Gavin thanked God. They’d lain beside each other, sharing a pillow, whispering and giggling in the darkness, finding love while others lost it.
When Alice woke for her feed, they were still talking. He sat on the edge of the bed marvelling at the miracle they’d created while Monica held their daughter, the joy outweighing the responsibility. Alice was their child, their little girl, and they were her mum and dad.
Dawn broke over their naked bodies, locked together with a passion which had been so much part of their life before. Later, Gavin showered and dressed. At ten-to-seven he was driving through an almost-deserted Glasgow in Monica’s car towards Sauchiehall Street and the Lorne Hotel.
He ordered coffee, croissants and a newspaper and settled himself in the foyer near the door to wait. Half an hour later, guests started to arrive for breakfast. Gavin kept his eyes on the lift, expecting at any minute to see Blair and Mackenzie.
Something Monica had suggested came to him.
registered under another name
This morning, two receptionists, both female, were on duty. The serious lady from the previous night wasn’t there. One of them raised her head when she realised he was waiting.
‘Sorry to bother you. Could you check if Mr and Mrs Darroch and Mr and Mrs Crawford are still in their rooms?’
The girl studied the computer screen in front of her, eyes narrowed in concentration. ‘I don’t see them. When did they arrive?’
Gavin couldn’t begin to guess and feigned annoyance. ‘Bloody idiots have got it wrong again. Have to wait until the office opens to get the correct information.’ He pulled out his mobile and made an imaginary phone call for the receptionist’s benefit, pretending to be irritated. ‘Too early. Nobody’s there yet. Thanks, anyway.’
Back in his seat, he considered a second cup of coffee and changed his mind. Through the plate-glass window the city was going about its business. He lifted The Herald but couldn’t concentrate, his racing mind wouldn’t let him. So much had happened since the party, even in the last twenty-four hours: Adele angrily accusing him of playing favourites and her distraught implication ‘“– Blair Gardiner isn’t the “good old Blair” you think he is – ”;’ Andrew Geddes’ bombshell that his brother-in-law was coming to the interview in Cathcart with a lawyer; following them to the Lorne and losing Blair; and finally, more important than everything else, where others were foundering, his own marriage turning the corner.
Now he was here, skulking behind a newspaper in a hotel foyer like a Cold War spy. A lot to take in. He considered calling it quits, thinking Blair must have spotted him last night and used the hotel to lose him.
At five past eight, the lift doors opened and Blair Gardiner walked out, guiding his companion towards the restaurant and the buffet like the gentleman he’d believed him to be.
it’ll tear the family apart
The woman smiled at the gesture and Gavin saw her face.
* * *
It wasn’t his sister. It wasn’t Mackenzie.
Gavin’s initial reaction was relief. Whatever else, Adele would be spared the humiliation of her husband betraying her with her own flesh and blood. The feeling was short-lived. There were no winners here. Taking sides was never a good idea. These things happened, but he’d been accused of favouring one sister over another. It wasn’t true and this was his chance to prove it.
He stopped at the restaurant door, scanning the tables until he spotted them in the far corner, holding hands. Blair was spooning cereal into his mouth and didn’t see his brother-in-law until he was standing over him. Gavin tried to keep his voice down and failed.
‘What the hell do you think you’re playing at?’
Conversation died in the dining-room. The shock of discovery made Blair falter. ‘Gavin, why..?’
Gavin ignored him and spoke to the woman. ‘I assume he’s told you he’s married.’
Blair apologised to his compa
nion. ‘Sorry about this, Martha. I’ll deal with it.’ He turned back to Gavin. ‘This isn’t the time or the place…’
‘Really? Then when is? Next, you’ll be asking me to believe it isn’t what it looks like.’
Blair wiped his mouth with his napkin. ‘I don’t have to explain myself to you and don’t intend to. It’s between Adele and me and none of your damned business.’
Gavin was stunned. This was Blair, a good guy. Suddenly it was like talking to a stranger. He was aware of a waiter at his shoulder, drawn by his raised voice. People were watching. He didn’t care. He leaned across the table until his face was inches from Blair Gardiner’s.
‘Your wife made it my business.’
Blair pulled away. ‘What do you mean?’
‘Adele isn’t stupid, Blair. She asked me to follow you.’
Blair blanched. ‘We should discuss this outside.’
‘No, no. Right here’s fine.’
Martha threw in her twopenceworth. A mistake. ‘Whoever you are, you’re embarrassing yourself. And yes, Blair’s told me everything.’
‘Everything? I doubt it. Has he mentioned his two sons? Has he shown you pictures of Adam and Richard? Nice kids. And you’re comfortable ruining their lives, are you?’
Her expression answered for her.
‘Didn’t think so.’
‘You can behave any way you want, Blair. It’s allowed. If that means being with somebody else, okay. But don’t sneak around. Don’t leave your wife worried out of her mind. Do the right thing.’ He pointed to Martha. ‘And tell this woman the truth.’
Blair stared ahead, waiting for the lecture to end.
Gavin said, ‘By the way, why bring a lawyer to an informal interview? What’s that about?’
So far, Blair had let his brother-in-law do most of the talking. Now, it was his turn.
‘Again, none of your business, though since you ask, I’ll tell you. The other night I got the message, loud and clear. Your family thinks I’ve something to do with Mackenzie leaving.’