Written in Bone dh-2

by Simon Beckett

  I looked around, not really expecting to see either Fraser or Brody, but hoping all the same. But I might have been the only living soul on the mountainside.

  Bracing myself against the wind, I edged closer to the hut. The entrance yawned in front of me. I peered into it, trying to sense if anyone was inside. All I saw was blackness. Just do it. Crouching down, I ducked through the low opening.

  Silence draped around me like a blanket as the wind was cut off. It was pitch black, the air heavy with loam and age. It was cramped inside, barely high enough to allow me to stand. But no one jumped out at me. As my eyes acclimatised, I made out cold stone walls and bare soil underfoot. Whatever this was, it looked as though it had stood empty and unused for millennia.

  Then, from the corner of my eye, I noticed a small, pale blur. I bent down to examine it. Some of the stones had tumbled from the inner wall, forming a small hollow. Inside was a half-melted candle stub, surrounded by dirty yellow pools of solidified wax from countless predecessors.

  I’d found Strachan’s hide. But where was Strachan?

  I straightened, and as I did the grey light coming from the entrance suddenly dimmed. I spun round, heart banging, as a shape rose from the shadows behind me.

  ‘Hello, David,’ Strachan said.

  CHAPTER 26

  I DIDN’T SPEAK. My mind still seemed stalled, robbing me of any speech or movement. Strachan took another step away from the wall, so he was silhouetted in the entrance.

  He held a knife down by his side, its blade catching the light from behind him.

  ‘Managed to find your way up here again, eh? Told you you’d find it interesting.’

  His voice echoed flatly in the confines of the broch. He didn’t come any closer, but he was between me and the only way out. I tried not to look at the knife. Our breath steamed in the small chamber. His eyes looked hunted and sunken, the dark stubble blue-black against the pallor of his face.

  He tilted his head, listening to the wind howling outside.

  ‘Do you know what “Beinn Tuiridh” means? It’s Gaelic for “Moaning Mountain”. Pretty apt, I always thought.’

  His tone was conversational, as though he’d come here for a stroll. He ran his hand across the stone wall. The other, holding the knife, remained at his side.

  ‘This place isn’t as old as the cairns. Probably only a thousand years or so. You get brochs like this all across the islands. I’ve never been able to make up my mind if it was built here because of the cairns or in spite of them. Why build a watchtower in a graveyard? Unless they were watching over the dead, I suppose. What do you think?’

  When I didn’t answer he gave a small smile. ‘No, I don’t suppose you’re here out of archaeological interest, are you?’

  I found my voice. ‘Maggie Cassidy’s dead.’

  He was still studying the hard stones. ‘I know.’

  ‘Did you kill her?’

  Strachan stood poised for a moment with his hand on the wall. He dropped it with a sigh.

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘And Duncan? And Janice Donaldson?’

  There was no surprise at hearing the prostitute’s name. He just nodded, and any last doubt I might have had vanished.

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Does it matter? They’re dead. You can’t bring them back.’

  He seemed shrunken. I’d expected to hate him, but I felt more confused than anything.

  ‘You must have had a reason!’

  ‘You wouldn’t understand.’

  I tried to see any sign of madness in his eyes. They just looked tired. And sad.

  ‘Did Janice Donaldson blackmail you, was that it? Was she threatening to tell Grace?’

  ‘Leave Grace out of this,’ he warned, his voice grown suddenly hard.

  ‘Then tell me.’

  ‘All right, she was blackmailing me. I’d been fucking her, and when she realized who I was she got greedy. So I killed her.’ He sounded listless, as though none of this had any real bearing on him.

  ‘And what about Duncan and Maggie?’

  ‘They got in the way.’

  ‘That’s it? You killed them just for that?’

  ‘Yes, that’s it! I butchered them all like pigs, and I got a thrill out of it! Because I’m a sick, twisted bastard! Is that what you wanted to hear?’

  His voice was thick with self-contempt. I tried to keep mine steady. ‘So now what?’

  As we’d been talking, I’d been trying to slowly work my injured arm out of the sling under my coat. Even if I managed it I didn’t give much for my chances if he attacked me, but I’d have none at all if I was one-handed.

  He was backlit by the light from the entrance, half in shadow as he answered. ‘Well, that’s the question, isn’t it?’

  ‘Don’t make this any worse for yourself than it is already,’ I said, with a confidence I didn’t feel. ‘Think about Grace.’

  He took a step towards me. ‘I told you to leave her out of this!’

  I made myself stay where I was, resisting the impulse to back away. ‘Why? You attacked her! Your own wife!’

  There was real pain in his eyes. ‘She took me by surprise. I was in the house when the three of you called round. I guessed why you’d come, and I knew you’d be back. I only wanted to stop you using the yacht’s radio, to give myself more time to think. But the bloody dog knew I was down there, and when I heard Grace coming into the cockpit, I…I just spun round and backhanded her. I didn’t mean to hit her so hard, but I couldn’t let her see it was me!’

  ‘So then you staged everything? Put her through all that?’

  ‘I did what I had to do!’

  But he sounded shamed. I pushed on, sensing an advantage.

  ‘You’re not going to get off the island, you know that, don’t you?’

  ‘Probably not.’ He had an odd smile on his face. Seeing it, I felt suddenly cold. ‘But I’m not going to give myself up, either.’

  He lifted the knife. Its blade glinted silver as he held it up, considering it.

  ‘Do you want to know why I came up here?’ he began, but I never heard his reason.

  Suddenly a bulky shape flew into him from behind. There was a clatter as Strachan’s knife flew from his hand, and then I was knocked against the wall. Pain burst in my shoulder as the stones shuddered under the impact. Everything was shadow and confusion as Strachan and another figure struggled on the floor. In the half-light I made out the granite features of Brody. Strachan was younger and fitter, but the older man had size on his side. Using his weight to pin him, he smashed his fist into Strachan’s face. There was a meat and bone impact, then another as Brody hit him again. Strachan went limp even before Brody hit him a third time. I thought he’d stop, but he didn’t. He carried on, putting all his weight into the blows.

  ‘Brody!’

  It was as though he hadn’t heard. Strachan was no longer resisting, and as Brody drew back his fist once more I caught hold of his arm.

  ‘You’ll kill him!’

  He shrugged me off. In the light from the entrance I could see the grim intent in his face and knew he was beyond reasoning. I pushed myself off the wall, driving into him and using my impetus to knock him off the unmoving Strachan.

  Fire lanced through my injured shoulder. Brody tried to push me aside, but the pain maddened me. I shoved him back.

  ‘No!’

  For an instant I thought he was going to attack me, then the rage seemed to drain from him. Panting, he slumped against the wall as the fit passed.

  I knelt down next to Strachan. He was bloody and dazed, but alive.

  ‘How is he?’ Brody asked, breathlessly.

  ‘He’ll live.’

  ‘More than the bastard deserves.’ But there was no energy left in the words. ‘Where’s Fraser?’

  ‘Back at the car. He couldn’t make it up.’

  I looked round for the knife. It was lying by the wall. I used one of the remaining freezer bags to pick it up. It was a folding fishing kni
fe, its blade five inches long. Big enough.

  But as I looked at it something stirred at the back of my mind. What is it? What’s wrong?

  Brody held out his hand. ‘Here, I’ll look after that. Don’t worry, I won’t use it on him,’ he added when I hesitated.

  A nagging sense that I was overlooking something persisted as I passed it over. There was a groan from Strachan as Brody put the knife into his pocket.

  ‘Help me get him up,’ I said.

  ‘I can manage,’ Strachan gasped.

  His nose was broken, making his voice sound hollow and adenoidal. I went over anyway. So did Brody, but it wasn’t until he wrenched Strachan’s arms behind his back that I saw he’d produced a pair of handcuffs.

  ‘What are you doing?’

  ‘Souvenir from when I retired.’ He snapped the cuffs round Strachan’s wrists. ‘Call it a citizen’s arrest.’

  ‘I’m not going to try to get away,’ Strachan said, making no attempt to resist.

  ‘Not now you’re not. Come on, get up.’ Brody roughly pulled him to his feet. ‘What’s wrong, Strachan? Aren’t you going to plead innocence? Insist you didn’t kill anyone?’

  ‘Would it make any difference?’ he asked, dully.

  Brody looked surprised, as though he hadn’t expected him to buckle so easily.

  ‘No.’ He pushed him towards the entrance. ‘Outside.’

  I ducked through after them, blinking as I emerged into the daylight. The freezing wind took my breath away as I went to examine Strachan. His face was a mess. The blood and mucus that smeared it was superficial, but one of his eyes was puffed almost shut. From the way the cheek under it was also swollen, I guessed it wasn’t only his nose that was broken.

  I felt in my pockets for a tissue and began trying to staunch the blood.

  ‘Let him bleed,’ Brody said.

  Strachan gave a travesty of a smile. ‘Ever the humanitarian, eh, Brody?’

  ‘Can you make it down?’ I asked him.

  ‘Do I have any choice?’

  None of us did. Strachan wasn’t the only one in bad shape. The climb and fight had taken its toll on Brody. His face was grey, and I doubted I looked any better. My shoulder had started throbbing again, and I was beginning to shiver as the wind cut through my fire-damaged coat like icy knives. We all needed to get off the exposed mountainside, fast.

  Brody gave Strachan a shove. ‘Move.’

  ‘Take it easy,’ I told him, as Strachan almost fell.

  ‘Don’t waste your sympathy. He would have killed you back there, given a chance.’

  Strachan looked over his shoulder at me. ‘I don’t want any sympathy. But you were never in any danger from me.’

  Brody snorted. ‘Aye, right. That’s why you’d got the knife.’

  ‘I came up here to kill myself, not anybody else.’

  ‘Save it, Strachan,’ Brody told him roughly, steering him down the slope.

  But the feeling that something wasn’t right about this, that I was missing something, was stronger than ever. I found myself wanting to hear what Strachan had to say.

  ‘I don’t understand,’ I said. ‘You’ve murdered three people. Why suddenly decide to kill yourself now?’

  The desolation on his face seemed genuine. ‘Because enough people have died. I wanted to be the last.’

  Brody’s next shove sent him to his knees on the hail-covered grass. ‘You lying bastard! All the blood on your hands, and you stand there and say that? Christ, I ought to-’

  ‘Brody!’ I quickly moved in between them.

  He was trembling with anger, all his fury focused on the man kneeling in front of him. With an effort, he made himself relax. His fists unclenched as he stepped back.

  ‘All right. But when I hear his self-pity, after all the lives he’s ruined. Ellen’s as well…’

  ‘I know, but it’s finished. Let the police handle it now.’

  Brody drew in a long, shaky breath, nodding assent. But Strachan was still staring at him.

  ‘What about Ellen?’

  ‘Don’t bother denying it,’ Brody told him, bitterly. ‘We know you’re Anna’s father, God help her.’

  Strachan had scrambled to his feet. There was an unmistakable urgency about him now.

  ‘How did you find out? Who told you?’

  Brody regarded him coldly. ‘You weren’t as clever as you thought. Maggie Cassidy found out. Seems like everyone on the island knew about it.’

  Strachan looked as though he’d been struck. ‘What about Grace? Does she know?’

  ‘That’s the least of your worries. After this-’

  ‘Does she know?’

  His vehemence took us both aback. I answered, feeling an awful apprehension start to bloom.

  ‘It was an accident. She overheard.’

  Strachan looked as though he’d been struck. ‘We have to get back to the village.’

  Brody grabbed hold of him as he turned away. ‘You’re not going anywhere.’

  Strachan shook him off. ‘Let me go, you bloody idiot! Christ, you’ve no idea what you’ve done!’

  It wasn’t his anger that convinced me, it was what else was in his eyes.

  Fear.

  And all at once I realized what had been bothering me. Why the sight of the knife had sparked it. It had been what Strachan had said: I butchered them all like pigs! It had been a sickening, distracting image, especially after seeing the vicious slashes on Maggie’s burned body and the blood spattering her car. But although Maggie had been killed with a knife, had been butchered in a very real sense, none of the other victims had. So either Strachan hadn’t meant what he’d said, or…

  Oh my God. What had we done…?

  I fought to keep my voice steady. ‘Take his handcuffs off.’

  Brody stared at me as if I were mad. ‘What? I’m not going to-’

  ‘We don’t have time for this!’ Strachan broke in. ‘We need to get back! Now!’

  ‘He’s right. We have to hurry,’ I said.

  ‘Why, for God’s sake? What’s wrong?’ Brody demanded, but he still started to unlock the handcuffs.

  ‘He didn’t kill them,’ I said, willing him to hurry. The enormity of our mistake was starting to dawn with appalling, bell-like clarity. ‘It was Grace. He’s just been protecting her.’

  ‘Grace?’ Brody echoed, incredulously. ‘His wife?’

  A look of self-loathing crossed Strachan’s battered face.

  ‘Grace isn’t my wife. She’s my sister.’

  CHAPTER 27

  THE JOURNEY BACK to the Range Rover was a nightmare. Although the hail had stopped, the mountainside was littered with white pellets of slowly melting ice, turning the slope into a frictionless slide. The light was fading and the wind that had tried to slow us on the way up now chased us back down, making the descent even harder.

  Hindsight is the cruellest luxury. We’d been right, and yet hideously wrong. The intruder at the clinic, the wrecked yacht radio and attack on Grace, that had all been Strachan. He’d been stalking us from the first day we’d arrived on the island, watching our progress, even sabotaging us at times. Yet he’d been doing it to protect his sister, not himself. He wasn’t the killer.

  She was.

  I felt sick to think of how much time we’d wasted. The only faint source of hope was that Strachan had taken both sets of car keys with him, deliberately stranding Grace at the house after learning what she’d done to Maggie. If she wanted to go to the village, she would have to walk. Even so, she’d had time to get there by now. I tried to tell myself that she might not have gone to the hotel straight away, but I didn’t believe it. I’d seen how distraught she’d been when Brody and I had left her. It wouldn’t take long for that to transform to anger. All the unanswered questions would have to wait. Right now our priority was reaching Ellen and Anna before Grace did.

  If we weren’t already too late.

  We didn’t talk on the way down. We didn’t have the time, or the breath.
Once we reached more level ground we broke into a stumbling jog, silent except for the laboured rasp of our breathing. Strachan was easily the fittest, but the way he ran with one arm clamped to his side made me think he might have cracked ribs to go with his other injuries.

  Fraser had seen us coming. He was waiting in the Range Rover, engine running and the heater pumping out blessed hot air. He gave a savage smile when he saw Strachan’s bloodied face.

  ‘Somebody fell down the steps, did they?’

  ‘Get us back to the hotel. Fast,’ Brody gasped, hauling himself into the front passenger seat. ‘We need to find Ellen.’

  ‘Why, what-’

  ‘Just drive!’

  Still breathless, Brody turned round to confront Strachan as Fraser banged the Range Rover into gear and roared off towards the village.

  ‘Talk.’

  Strachan’s pulverised face looked almost unrecognisable. His broken nose was flattened, and the cheek under his nearly shut eye was dark and swollen. He must have been in considerable pain, yet he gave no sign.

  ‘Grace is ill. It’s my fault, not hers,’ he said, dully. ‘That’s why I wasn’t planning on coming back down from the mountain. With me dead, she wouldn’t be a threat any more.’

  ‘Why is she a threat anyway?’ Brody demanded. ‘You’re her brother, for Christ’s sake! Why’s she doing this?’

  ‘Her brother?’ Fraser exclaimed, throwing us against the side of the car as he swerved into a bend.

  Neither of them answered him. Strachan looked like a man staring into an abyss of his own making.

  ‘Because she’s jealous.’

  The barren landscape flashed by outside, but it was almost unnoticed now. I found my voice first.

  ‘She killed Maggie because she was jealous?’ I said, incredulously.

  Strachan’s bloodied mouth twitched involuntarily. He swayed limply with the movement of the car, making no attempt to steady himself.

  ‘I didn’t know what she’d done until she came back, covered in blood. But Maggie had called to the house twice to see me. Grace might have overlooked the first time, but not the second. She pretended she’d seen a prowler to get me out of the way, and then slipped a note into Maggie’s coat arranging a meeting. She even took my car, so Maggie would think it was me.’