“I agree. If Hannah had screamed then everyone in the surrounding houses would have heard something but no one did.”
“Isla screamed. She didn’t go quietly.”
“From what I’ve heard she’s a very feisty woman.”
“She is,” rasped Mike.
“We’re looking very closely at Mr Shaw, rest assured but I don’t want you getting carried away like you did earlier, alright Mike?”
“Yeah,” he nodded seriously.
“Good because I really don’t want to have to arrest you again.” He yawned and glanced at his watch. “Right, I need to get back to the station.”
“Don’t you ever sleep?”
“I will when Isla and Hannah are home safely.”
Mike nodded his appreciation of that statement.
“Before I go Mike, why did Will McNair really come round here?”
“To talk. He knew I’d understand what he’s going through.”
“And that’s the only reason?”
“Yeah.”
“Then why did he bring his shotgun with him?”
“For protection.”
“Against who?”
“Whoever took his wife.”
Stewart nodded slowly but knowingly. “Alright Mike, if you say so. I’m leaving some officers stationed in the woods again. Do you have a problem with that ?”
“None whatsoever.”
“Excellent. Come Wheeler.”
Mike found the way Wheeler scampered outside after his superior almost comical. He glanced out of the back window but the scene examiners had cleared out too. He was alone again.
The memory of touching Isla’s hair hanging on the door handle returned and he shuddered. For once, he didn’t want to be alone.
The rest of the night passed uneventfully and Mike slept through until eight o’clock. He’d only just made his morning coffee when Phoebe and Jake turned up on his doorstep.
“Oh my God Mike,” she said when he opened the door.
“What?” he replied, taking a sip of coffee.
“You look terrible. Have you been eating properly? How much sleep did you get last night? I hope you haven’t been hitting the whisky too hard?”
“For God’s sake Phoebe, stop grilling the man,” said Jake. “You haven’t even got through the door yet.”
“Sorry,” she said, stepping into the hallway with her husband. “When did you last eat Mike?” she demanded, planting her hands on her hips.
“Last night. Billy gave me a carrot cake.”
“A whole carrot cake?”
“Yeah.”
“Did you eat the lot?”
“No, there’s half left.”
“That’s all you had?”
“Apart from the porridge at breakfast, yeah.”
“That’s not enough, you need to keep your strength up. I’ll cook you something,” she said, taking off her coat.
“That’s not necessary. I’m not really hungry.”
“Tough because you’re going to eat. Isla’s one of my best friends and I will not let her down by allowing you to make yourself ill. Anyway, we need to talk.”
“About what?”
“That social media page you set up about Isla’s disappearance.”
“Has someone seen her?
“Show him Jake,” she said before walking into the kitchen.
He brought up the page on his phone and indicated one of the most recent comments.
“I thought I saw this woman at Portavadie the day after she disappeared,” said Mike, reading out loud. “She was wearing the blue coat, hat and gloves. She looked upset and was stumbling a bit. I stopped to ask if she needed a lift but she yelled at me and told me to piss off. I thought she was drunk or on drugs, so I drove off, a move I will forever regret. I wish I’d stayed and tried to talk to her some more.” He looked to Jake, eyes wide. “Is this for real?”
“I don’t think we can take the chance that it’s not. We’ve sent them a private message asking for more details and we’ve let DI Stewart know.”
“He’s called Christopher Nye. Do you know that name?”
“Never heard of him. He’s certainly not from the village.”
Mike headed into the kitchen to find Phoebe frying a couple of eggs in a pan. “Jake’s shown me that comment on social media,” he said. “What do you make of it?”
“I’m trying not to get too excited because we’ve been let down so many times with so-called sightings,” she replied.
“But if it was Isla what’s she doing at Portavadie? We’ve been to the marina there for lunch a few times but other than that there’s no connection.”
“And if this sighting is real,” said Jake. “Why was she angry and falling about? That doesn’t sound like Isla.”
“She could have had a head injury and didn’t know where she was,” said Mike desperately. “She could have been lying in a ditch, injured all this time. We have to get out there and look for her.”
“Calm down,” said Jake, taking his arm. “Stewart’s already sent a professional search team out there to look. If anyone can find her, they can.”
“Jake’s right,” said Phoebe, her eyes continuously slipping to the hatch leading down into the cellar. News of Robert Campbell’s body had already spread far and wide. “Your breakfast is ready and you need to gather your strength. Sorry it’s only eggs on toast but it was either that or soup and that won’t fill you up enough. We’ll pick up some shopping for you.”
“You don’t need to do that.”
“No but we want to, so sit and eat,” she said, dumping the plate on the kitchen table.
He slunk into the chair and obediently began to eat his eggs on toast, cutting off small pieces and nibbling them, not tucking in with gusto as he normally would, the smell repelling him a bit. Phoebe looked on disapprovingly but didn’t comment.
“Christopher Nye has messaged back,” said Jake excitedly.
Mike leapt to his feet and he and Phoebe stood either side of Jake as he brought up the message. They all gasped and recoiled. Mike’s knees went weak and he had to grab onto the table to keep himself upright.
The message held just one photo - of Isla crouched before a white wall, her scared pale face staring back at them, green eyes wide over the gag tied around her mouth.
“Jesus Christ, it’s the kidnapper,” cried Mike.
“I’ll call Stewart,” said Phoebe, taking her phone out of her jeans pocket and dialling with shaking hands.
“I can’t take this anymore,” said Mike, sinking to the floor. “I can’t fucking take it.”
“Jake, for God’s sake,” snapped Phoebe as he continued to gape at the photo.
“Sorry,” he said, stuffing the phone back into his pocket.
“DI Stewart,” Phoebe rasped when the call was answered, tears spilling down her face. “You won’t believe the message we’ve just received.”
Stewart and Wheeler came to the cottage then went again after having confiscated Jake’s phone for analysis, returning to the search at Portavadie, which had so far yielded nothing. Before they’d taken the phone, Mike had insisted Jake forward the photo to his own phone. At first he and Phoebe had protested, saying it would only torture him. They’d hastily changed their minds when the wild look returned to his eyes. Now he sat on the couch, studying it intently. For some reason he thought it could tell him something vitally important, although he didn’t know what that was. There was nothing really of the background to see, except for a blank wall. No people or landmarks or even furniture.
“The question is,” he said. “Was this photo taken today or a few days ago? Does this mean she’s still alive?” He’d got over the initial shock the photo had given him and now his brain was once more working logically.
“I wouldn’t like to say,” replied Phoebe quietly, curled up on the armchair clasping a tumbler full of whisky, deciding to bugger her own advice.
“Once again he’s stepped up his game,” said J
ake. “The hair, now this.”
“Stop it,” said Phoebe. “I don’t even want to think about what he’s going to send next.”
“Maybe the police can find him through the internet? They can track IP addresses. This might be his first mistake.”
“We can only hope,” said Phoebe, dabbing at her eyes with a tissue. “Oh God,” she gasped when there was a loud knock at the front door, the sound making her jump.
Mike leapt up, ran for the door and threw it open to reveal Will, who was pale and trembling.
“What’s happened?” said Mike.
“I received this,” he said, handing him his phone. “I…I don’t know what to do.”
On his phone, received as a social media message, was a photo of Hannah, gagged, eyes wide and terrified in the same featureless background as Isla.
“Jesus,” breathed Mike.
“I don’t know who Christopher Nye is,” he said, wringing his hands. “I’ve never heard of the bastard.”
“It’s probably an alias.”
“I called Stewart, he’s meeting me here. I couldn’t be in the house on my own after this. I left the girls with my parents. I didn’t want them around if Hannah’s clothes are going to start being left by some psycho.”
“Come on in,” said Mike. “There’s something you need to see.”
Will nodded hello to Jake and Phoebe as he walked into the sitting room then slumped into an armchair. When Mike showed him the photo of Isla he winced and looked away.
“Well that settles it,” said Will. “The same fucking psycho took them both.”
“But why send those photos?” said Phoebe. “I don’t understand.”
“Because he’s proud of what he’s done and wants to show off,” replied Will. “That’s what Stewart said anyway.”
“Inadequate tosser,” hissed Phoebe. “The kidnapper I mean, not Stewart.”
“We’ve got to do something,” said Will. “We can’t just sit here, waiting.”
“The police are on it,” said Jake. “We have to leave it in their hands, they know what they’re doing and they have resources we don’t.”
“And what have their resources achieved so far? Nothing.”
Mike tuned them out as they continued to debate the situation. Who else enjoyed showing off? The Shaws. Everything kept coming back to Alex.
“I need some fresh air. Do you fancy going into the village for a coffee?” he asked Will, interrupting their bickering.
Will caught the look in his eye and realised there was more to his suggestion than mere caffeine, although he wasn’t sure what. “Yeah, okay.”
Mike looked to Phoebe and Jake. “Do you mind waiting here in case the police stop by?”
“Why?” said Phoebe. “What are you up to?”
“Nothing. I just think me and Will could do with stretching our legs. It really helps keep you sane.”
“I’m not sure I believe you Mike.”
“Can’t be helped.” He looked to Will. “I’ll get changed and then we can go.”
He jogged upstairs, threw off his dirty clothes, abandoning them on the floor and pulled on clean ones. He then snuck into the spare room, opened up the box containing the shotgun and headed back downstairs. Quietly he opened the back door and lay the shotgun down on the ground. Gently he closed the door then wandered into the hallway to pull on his coat and boots.
“Ready to go?” he asked Will, popping his head into the sitting room.
“Yeah,” he replied, getting to his feet.
“How long will you be?” said Phoebe, eyes full of knowing.
“Not long,” replied Mike. “We’ll be back soon, don’t worry.”
He nodded to Will, who got the message and followed him out the door before Phoebe could ask any more questions.
“What’s going on?” Will asked him as they trudged across the drive to their vehicles.
“I might have a way to get Isla and Hannah back.”
“How?”
“I’ll tell you when we get to Strachur. I’ll meet you there.”
“Aren’t you going to tell me what’s going on?”
“When we get there.” He nodded at Phoebe watching them disapprovingly from the window.
“Okay.” Will got in his car and drove off, turning right at the top of the drive, heading back towards the village. When he’d gone Mike got into his Land Rover and drove further up the drive, out of sight of the house. He stopped the car and snuck back to the rear of the cottage to retrieve the shotgun, which still lay on the ground. Then he hurried back to the car, placed the gun in the boot, got back into the driver’s seat and set off.
CHAPTER 13
When Mike arrived in the village he found Will waiting for him on the small car park beside the shop.
“So what’s this plan?” Will demanded when Mike got out of his car.
“I’ll show you.”
Mike opened up the boot of his car to reveal the shotgun. During the short drive to the village the heavens had opened and it was pouring down but Mike hardly felt it, too consumed by the task ahead.
“What the hell are you going to do with that?” said Will.
“Alex Shaw.”
“What about him?”
“When I asked him about the last time he saw Isla he got all shifty and he even lied. If Phillipa hadn’t been there to set him straight he would have got away with it too. He doesn’t have an alibi for when Isla went missing. Apparently he was driving back from Glasgow. The police spotted his car on CCTV but the footage didn’t show the driver. He’s rich, he could have paid someone to drive it for him, giving him the perfect alibi. He lives opposite the beach where Hannah went missing, he would have seen her walking there alone. Stewart said the kidnapper is showing off what he’s done and no one likes showing off more than the Shaws.”
“I don’t know Mike, it’s all a bit circumstantial and Alex has always seemed such a drip, certainly not capable of snatching two women.”
“You know what they always say about these lunatics after they get caught - he was such a nice man, a quiet man. Nobody would have thought him capable.”
“That’s true.”
“But most of all,” he said, taking out his phone and bringing up the image of Isla. “He’s got that huge wine cellar under the house with a separate entrance at the rear. Phillipa doesn’t go down there either, it’s his own space. Look at the walls on this photo.”
“Hey, that’s right. He took me down there to pick a bottle of wine a couple of weeks ago when me and Hannah went round for dinner. I didn’t have a clue what I was looking for because I like lager. He was banging on about vintage and years, bored me rigid he did.” Will studied the image of Isla on Mike’s phone but more especially, the wall behind her. “The wall’s the same colour. It’s not like a traditional cellar, all wood. He’s had it done out like a proper room, a solid floor and plastered and painted walls. They look just like that. I should know, I helped build it. Jesus, did I build my wife’s prison?”
Mike took out the shotgun, holding it tightly with both hands. “Only one way to find out.”
Will nodded, opened up his own boot and took out his gun. “I thought it would be wise to carry this around. Now I’m glad I did.”
They looked up and down the street but no one was about, probably thanks to the heavy rain. Together they marched across the road, Mike banging on the front door. Both men hid the shotguns behind their backs when the door was opened.
“Hello Mike, Will,” said Phillipa pleasantly. “What can I do for you both?”
“Is Alex in?” said Mike.
“Yes, he’s downstairs in his wine cellar. He loves that room.”
“Perfect,” said Mike, stepping inside, followed by Will.
“What’s this about? Oh my God,” she gasped when she saw the guns. “What have you brought those for?”
“Alex has his own shotgun, doesn’t he?” said Will.
“Yes, he enjoys grouse shooting. Why?
”
“We’ve got a lead on where Isla and Hannah might be. We’re mobilising all the local men with guns to go with us. It could be dangerous.”
“Where are they?”
“We’ll explain later. Time is of the essence,” said Will before both men breezed past her towards the door that led down to the wine cellar.
“But…,” she said, helplessly watching them go.
The door was unlocked and they strode down the stairs, guns at the ready, Mike leading the way.
Alex didn’t even hear them enter. He was slumped on a large wine barrel, head bowed.
“Where are they Alex?” said Mike.
He jumped and looked around. “Mike, Will, what are you doing here?” he said, wiping his eyes.
Mike frowned. Had he been crying? He aimed his shotgun at Alex, as did Will. “Where are Isla and Hannah?”
He blinked at them in confusion. “Why are you asking me?”
“Because you took them both you twisted bastard. You left pieces of Isla’s clothing at the cottage, cut off her ponytail and left that too. Then you sent us photos of them both gagged and terrified.”
“You’ve had photos of them?” he exclaimed.
“Don’t even try and pretend it’s a surprise. We know you’re behind it all. Watch him,” he told Will. “I’ll look for them.”
“Not a problem,” said Will determinedly, his hands completely steady for the first time since his wife had vanished.
“You’ve got it all wrong,” said Alex. “I didn’t do anything to them, I couldn’t.”
“Bollocks,” retorted Will.
“Isla?” yelled Mike. “Isla, where are you?”
“Why do you think I’m anything to do with it?” said Alex
“Let’s see, shall we?” retorted Mike as he continued the search, fury pumping through his veins so hard it was difficult for him to get the words out. “You lied when I asked you about the last time you saw Isla, your house faces the beach where Hannah went missing, meaning you could have easily snatched her, you’ve got this cellar with its own separate entrance, perfect for hiding two kidnap victims and you paid someone to drive your car back from Glasgow so it would be caught on the traffic cameras.” This last one was a shot in the dark but Alex still blanched.
The Loch Page 18