by Lin Anderson
At the foot of the hill he found himself suddenly in a bog and in danger of losing the oversized boots. Not for the first time did McNab remind himself how much he hated the countryside.
Eventually gaining dry ground, he was now close enough to see the stones above him. If there were people up there, they weren’t visible from this angle. He began his ascent. Halfway up, he caught sight of a splash of colour. Breathing heavily and eaten alive by the dusk-descending midges, he crowned the hill.
He was right. There was something colourful amidst the stones. His chest heaving, his breath coming in gasps, he ran towards the circle. The bundle lay in the very centre. The closer he got, the more human in shape it became.
He knew it was Helena before he reached it. He had never seen the tall, slim girl who the old man downstairs had described, but he had stood in her room and smelt her scent. McNab stumbled into the circle just as the sun’s rays hit the largest of the stones, lighting it up like a beacon among the growing shadows.
Megan was right. There was a signal up here. McNab watched the row of bars grow, then selected the name and dialled the number.
Her voice was tentative. She had no idea who was calling from this number.
‘Rhona,’ he said.
A brief hesitation before she registered his voice. ‘Michael?’
Her use of his first name pleased him.
‘Can you get me out of here?’
‘Where’s here?’ she said immediately.
‘The Old Forge Inn.’ He gave her rough co-ordinates.
‘Why are you there?’
‘I’ll explain when I see you.’
‘What about your car?’
‘A write-off.’
She mentioned the Air Support Unit. ‘I’ll call you when I’ve sorted something out.’
‘Use the inn’s landline. The signal around here is shite.’
She wanted to tell him something, but was hesitant. So he helped her along. ‘I’m in big trouble, I know.’
‘It’s not that,’ she said.
‘What, then?’
She told him about Iona.
McNab walked back inside the ring. The energy he’d felt the first time was even stronger now. A tingle ran up his spine. He had a sense of being watched and ran his eyes over the neighbouring hilltops, but saw nothing. God, how he hated this emptiness.
He’d been wrong about the bundle on the ground. Pulled back, the torn coloured throw had revealed only a mound of heather, as though someone had fashioned a bed to lie on and look up at the night sky. McNab had searched the ring thoroughly for any other signs of visitation, but found only hoof marks and droppings from the sheep that dotted the hillside.
Before he deserted the ring, he called Megan and she said she would pick him up at the gate. McNab made his way back as the sun began to set. As he walked, he thought of Iona. Her inviting smile. Her laughter, which had seemed genuine at the time, but now replayed as false. He pictured her cocaine-bright eyes. The open red mouth. The piercings that had brought her pleasure and which seemed to him to mar her beauty. Rhona had explained about Iona’s connection with someone called Josh Kearney. How he had been DS when Kearney’s mother had killed his father. How a single hair found on Alan MacKenzie’s clothes had led Rhona to the woman he’d put in prison for murder.
The sky was a fiery red as he picked his way through the bog, then retraced his steps via the first hill, finally regaining the original track. Looking up at the bruised sky, he recalled the blood-soaked floor of a kitchen. The man lying there, his chest stabbed in a frenzied attack. There were, according to the postmortem, forty-three stab holes, some of them having been pierced more than once.
The wife had been seated at the kitchen table when he’d walked in, a large kitchen knife in her hand, the front of her clothes splattered red. She’d told him her husband had raped her, so she’d killed him. The teenage boy who’d opened the door to him had disagreed. He’d insisted that he had been the one to kill his father, because he caught him raping his mother.
The woman had dismissed her son’s attempts to take the blame. McNab had ignored his own suspicions that the boy might be telling the truth and testified in court against the woman. It was his first murder case as DS and he’d been pleased by his success.
McNab now recalled how the boy’s eyes had turned on him in court and flashed their hatred as his mother had been sentenced. Six months later, Isabel Kearney had been found hanging in her cell. The son had run away from numerous foster homes by then and was no longer on the radar. They’d hoped he might reappear for his mother’s funeral. When he hadn’t McNab had assumed her son didn’t know about his mother’s death, or didn’t care.
It seemed he’d been wrong.
McNab was almost at the gate now, beyond which stood the pick-up. He found himself longing for another shower, no matter how much it stung, some food and definitely some whisky. He began to hope that the helicopter wouldn’t come for him until tomorrow. That he might fall into a bed at the inn tonight.
Megan’s smile when he opened the passenger door lifted his spirits a little. As did the words that followed.
‘A woman called on the landline. She said the Air Support Unit would pick you up at nine tomorrow.’
McNab groaned as pulled himself onto the seat.
Megan performed a nifty three-point turn, and set off on her speedy way again.
‘Had she been there?’ Megan asked.
‘I don’t think so.’
‘I haven’t seen the bike I loaned her anywhere on the road either.’
The bike. He’d forgotten about the bike.
‘What do you think has happened to her?’
He thought Helena was already dead, and that her photograph would appear online soon, but he couldn’t say that.
When he didn’t reply, she said, ‘The man in the van. Is that who they’re calling Stonewarrior?’
He glanced swiftly at her.
‘I don’t have the internet, or much of a TV signal, but word travels fast in rural communities.’
There was no point in lying. ‘Yes, that’s him.’
‘And he has Helena?’
‘Probably.’
He assumed an expression that suggested he was unwilling to continue the conversation, because he knew she would ask what happened next. And he didn’t have an answer.
They heard the helicopter as they approached the hotel. Its lights picked them out as the beam swept the surroundings, looking for a place to land.
‘Shit!’
‘They said not until the morning.’ Megan looked disappointed.
She brought the pick-up to a halt and McNab eased himself out. The last thing he wanted was to appear hurt anywhere other than his face. He strode across, trying not to wince, and ducked under the slowing blades. Neil Cameron gave him a long hard look.
‘Been in the wars?’
‘Car accident. You’re early.’
‘We were called back from Callanish. They’re keen to have you home.’
McNab was immediately on the alert. ‘Callanish. What happened there?’
‘Nothing, but DI Wilson wasn’t taking any chances.’
Bill was back then, which meant he was out. A mixture of relief and anger swept through McNab. Fuck it, he thought. It was always going to happen, anyway.
Behind Neil, the radio crackled into life. Neil adjusted his headset and listened in, then said, ‘You got anything to collect before we get going?’
McNab shook his head. He glanced back to where Megan still stood by the pick-up.
‘Give me a minute.’
The wind from the blades was whipping her hair across her face, covering the damage he’d done.
McNab reached out his hand, then thought the better of it. They were way past the handshaking stage.
‘Thanks,’ he shouted above the noise. ‘And sorry about your cheek.’
She nodded, sweeping her hair behind her ear. ‘Come back sometime.’
‘I’m not one for the wild open spaces. If you’re ever in Glasgow …’
‘What should I do about Helena’s things?’
‘She left stuff here?’
‘A laptop and a mobile. She needed to recharge them.’
McNab signalled to Neil that he would be back in five and followed Megan to the hotel.
She lifted a key from a rack in the kitchen and led him upstairs.
Inside the room was a scattering of clothes, a small rucksack and a laptop. Plugged into the laptop was a mobile phone.
McNab put everything inside the bag.
‘What happens if – when she comes back?’
‘Call me.’ McNab gave her the station name and number, knowing it sounded impersonal.
It was an awkward goodbye. As he climbed into the helicopter he couldn’t help but think how differently things might have worked out had Megan been at the party that night.
As they rose, the lights of the inn blinked back at them from what seemed to McNab to be an ocean of darkness.
58
His beams picked out an empty road ahead. As he took a sharp bend, the lights suddenly caught a figure in the midst of crossing. He made out the reflection of eyes and the bristling shape of antlers before the stag bounded across and disappeared up the left-hand slope. The near collision startled him out of his reverie.
She was asleep, her head nestled against the backrest. He could smell her scent, a little musky with the heat in the van. He’d set the air to cool, but the fan had continued to blow warm air at them, so he’d finally settled for putting it off and opening his window. The incoming breeze ruffled her hair. She was dreaming, her eyes moving behind the lids.
He’d been surprised when he’d found her waiting for him, surmising that she might have taken fright and not come. That had been the danger of publicizing Stonewarrior. But out here there was no signal and she’d remained ignorant of what had happened to the other participants.
She’d asked him to take her to the hotel she’d stayed in to collect her things, but he’d managed to dissuade her. She could call the hotel when he picked up a signal, explain she’d be back later to collect them. She’d seemed content with that. For the moment.
He’d expected to feel the same with this one as he had with the others, but didn’t. Maybe the death of the policeman had changed things? A wave of pleasure swept through him at that thought. The bastard hadn’t looked so cocky, lying there on the road, knowing he was about to die. An image of Iona came to mind. She too had failed him. She’d gone along with all his demands, until the last and most important one.
Framing McNab and ruining his career were acceptable to her, especially after what the detective had done to Josh’s mother. Even more so after he’d rejected her. But Iona had gone as far as she was willing in their game. She would not agree to McNab’s death.
So Iona had died instead.
Helena stirred and shifted in her drug-induced sleep. Her head found his shoulder. Her warmth flowed into him. He had a brief memory of being cradled against his mother, and her warmth.
Josh felt himself stir and pushed her head away.
The game was reaching its finale and there was no one to stop him now. By the time they traced him it would be over. He had challenged them and found them wanting. He had reached level five, unhindered.
It was time for the game to be played out to its end.
59
‘We believe this is the man we’re looking for.’
All eyes turned to the screen. It was the photograph from the party, Josh and Iona deep in conversation, with only his profile in view.
‘Josh Kearney. Nineteen years of age. Highly intelligent, an avid gamester and a skilled hacker. Trace evidence from Alan MacKenzie’s clothes led to a familial link on the database.’
Bill pulled up the photograph of a younger Josh with his mother. Rhona was struck again by the child’s empty eyes and his mother’s frightened ones.
‘Josh is the son of Isabel Kearney, who was jailed for the murder of her husband when the boy was fourteen. DI McNab was in charge of the case.’
All eyes turned briefly to McNab. His face was a mess and from the way he moved it was obvious the body beneath the shirt was equally bruised and beaten. McNab and she had had no opportunity to talk before the meeting. In fact, Rhona suspected he was doing his best to avoid her.
Bill continued. ‘DNA saliva samples taken from the neck of the Brodgar victim and semen collected from the Skelmuir victim indicate Kearney as having been with both women prior to their deaths.’ He paused.
The online image of a smiling Helena Watters in the passenger seat of a vehicle appeared next.
‘Helena Watters may be victim number five. DI McNab describes the vehicle she’s travelling in as a converted camper van, dark green in colour.’ He quoted the number plate. ‘The perpetrator is unaware that we have identified this vehicle, which is to our advantage.’ He paused. ‘You’ll know by now that the other sites indicated as possible loci by Professor Pirie are being watched. Online interest has generated unprecedented numbers of visitors to these sites, which is what the perpetrator intended. This has put pressure on police resources, as was also intended. He has his fifth victim, that much we know. Where he intends taking her, we have no idea. If we ask the general public to help find the van, he will be alerted to that fact and may kill her before he reaches his destination.’
Bill gave out instructions and dismissed the team, then gestured to Rhona and McNab to join him in his office.
Magnus was already in there, something that surprised McNab, although he covered it well. There was a detailed ordnance survey map spread out on the desk. The points on the pentagram and the ley lines between were clearly marked in red. Magnus appeared drawn, as though deprived of sleep.
‘Where did you last see the van?’ Bill said.
McNab approached the desk. As he bent to study the map, Rhona noted him wince in pain. He pointed to a remote single-track road.
‘Which way was the van heading?’ Magnus said.
‘North.’
‘There’s a small stone circle—’
McNab cut Magnus off. ‘They didn’t go there. I checked.’ A nerve twitched at the corner of his mouth.
Magnus studied the map again. ‘There’s nothing else of significance in that area.’ He sounded frustrated.
‘Did he give any indication of a location other than that stone circle?’ Bill said.
‘I had one message. One set of co-ordinates. They’re on my mobile.’
‘And you didn’t speak to him directly?’
McNab looked irritated at being asked. ‘No,’ he said shortly.
Rhona’s immediate thought was that he was lying, or at least side-stepping the truth. Instinct told her he had spoken directly to Josh Kearney, or had a hunch where the van might be headed. But if so, why deny it? McNab was as desperate as the rest of them to catch Kearney.
Moments later, there was a knock at the door. It was Bill who called ‘Enter’, while the expression on McNab’s face spoke volumes.
The look exchanged between DS Clark, Bill and McNab needed no explanation.
When the door closed behind McNab, Rhona said, ‘What’ll happen?’
‘Superintendent Sutherland will suspend him pending the investigation into Iona’s death,’ Bill said.
‘What about the Stonewarrior investigation?’ Rhona said.
‘McNab’s no longer directly involved.’
‘But he knows more about it than any of us,’ Magnus said.
‘We’ll have to manage without him.’
By the end of the meeting they were no further forward. Magnus appeared distracted and indecisive, and Rhona could contribute nothing more than she had already. She also felt, as she thought Bill did, that McNab’s loss to the investigation was a serious one. The sense that they had no way of preventing the death of the fifth victim pervaded their discussion. Without an idea of where Josh was headed, they wou
ld have to rely on a sighting of the van. It looked as though Bill would take the decision to release its description and thereby warn Josh that they were on to him, which might hasten Helena’s death. It was a decision Rhona was glad she didn’t have to make. Magnus’s last offering was that the psychology of the perpetrator suggested he would play the game to the end, whatever the consequences.
When Magnus departed, Bill asked for coffee to be brought in for both of them before settling down at the desk. This had been Bill’s room before McNab had been promoted, yet he now looked out of place and uncomfortable. She thought it might be the missing swivel chair, removed into storage until he returned from compassionate leave.
Bill read her thoughts. ‘This one doesn’t turn, and turning in that old chair helped me think. That and the view from this window.’ He was silent for a moment. ‘Let’s talk about Iona now,’ he said. ‘How does it look for McNab?’
‘Not good,’ Rhona said honestly. ‘Saliva from the neck area is his. Also semen retrieved from high up in the vaginal track. I couldn’t find anything of Josh Kearney on her.’
‘The finger marks on her neck?’
‘I couldn’t get a print.’
‘Shape and size of the hand?’
‘Medium-size male, at a guess.’
‘So they could belong to McNab?’
Rhona didn’t want to admit that, but had to. ‘It might be difficult to disprove.’
‘Have we established how she died?’
‘Postmortem report confirms a heroin overdose. Her prints are on the syringe, but judging by their location, I believe it was placed in her hand after the event.’
‘The prosecution could mount a case against McNab using the forensic evidence alone,’ Bill said worriedly. ‘According to McNab, he asked Iona to leave the night he stayed at yours. She refused, so he walked out and eventually turned up at your place. When he went back next morning the flat was trashed. Our detective inspector is well known for his temper. The prosecution could use that as a motive.’
‘Josh Kearney helped trash McNab’s flat.’
Surprised, Bill waited for Rhona’s explanation.
‘MDNA,’ she said. ‘From the faeces.’
MDNA was carried in tiny structures, mitochondria, that lived inside cells. When the egg was fertilized by the sperm, the male mitochondrial DNA was destroyed, which meant only the female MDNA was passed on. And MDNA was preserved in faecal matter.