Docherty’s eyebrows went up. Was he supposed to be impressed? “I’m an old pal of Craig’s,” he replied as amiably as was possible for him. “I moved to England a few years ago but I’m back for a visit. I was hoping to surprise him.”
“Sorry, you’re a wee bit late. They’ve gone away for a few days.”
Docherty resisted the urge to swear. “Do you know where?”
“Aye, not far. They’ve gone for a cruise along the coast, they’ve hired a boat, a smart wee cabin cruiser.”
“Bloody hell that’s a shame. I’m only here for a couple of days and I don’t know when I’ll be back.” He sighed heavily, shoulders slumping with disappointment. “That’ll teach me to call first but I thought it would be a nice surprise.” Another disappointed sigh.
“They’ve not long gone. I bet if you hurry you could catch up with them.”
“They could be anywhere.”
“They’re heading up to Arran and then onto Turnberry but first they’re going to stop at the village of Blair Dubh. They’d planned to go there on the way home but Craig thought it best to stop there first in case Freya didn’t take to the water. When he took her to look at the boat yesterday she didn’t seem too keen. His mum lives there.”
“Nora, I remember her well.” From all the research I did on the internet. Although Nora Donaldson’s name had been all over the media when The Elemental case broke, this bamstick took it as proof that he was an old friend of the family.
“That’s her name. You could probably catch up with them. It’s a famous village. Two serial killers. Craig himself brought down one of them, he’s a hero.”
“I know,” said Docherty, forcing a smile, the conversation seriously getting on his tits. He had to leave before he knocked this berk out. “Thanks. I’d better get moving if I’m going to meet them there.”
“Okay, I’ll let you get off then. Good luck.”
Docherty raced down the stairs and out the front door. He needed to find a car fast. Public transport was risky with all the CCTV in case his escape was discovered. Blair Dubh was just over an hour away but he didn’t want to arse about waiting on buses.
He turned the corner off the main road and after walking for five minutes found himself in a quiet residential area. His eyes constantly scanned the road, searching for a likely-looking vehicle. The problem was these days cars were much harder to steal. He needed something older, something that would blend into the background and that wouldn’t have GPS tracking.
There should have been plenty of likely targets around here but he could find nothing suitable. He was all too aware of Freya speeding further away from him and as he passed by each car parked at the kerb, dismissing them all as unsuitable, his anxiety grew. It was so hot his bald head was sweating so he pulled off the cap and ran a hand over the dome. Deciding to forgo the disguise for comfort he carried the cap, the wound to his forehead throbbing. It must be bad if it had its own pulse. His breathing grew ragged and he picked up the pace until he was half-running, suspicious behaviour undoubtedly but he couldn’t help it, panic was starting to get the better of him. Everything was going pear-shaped. Freya had gone away and he was stuck in the city with no transport. This wasn’t how his big moment was supposed to be.
The sun continued to relentlessly beat down, burning the virginal skin on top of his head. He cursed and pulled the hat back on. Christ he was thirsty but he had no cash left. Desperation clawed at him. Fuck it, he would do anything necessary to achieve his ends and it wasn’t as if he had to worry about adding extra time onto his sentence.
It took him barely a minute to break into a smart wee bungalow. He raided the fridge, stuffing two carrier bags he found full of crisps, biscuits, bread and anything else that might have a chance of surviving in the heat, plus a bottle of water, a couple of beers and some cans of fizzy pop. He found twenty quid plus some change in a bowl on the sideboard. It never ceased to amaze him how careless people were with their cash.
Upstairs in a medicine cabinet was a first aid kit. After removing the strips the paramedic had applied he slathered the wound in antiseptic cream then taped a dressing over it, which would be hidden by the cap.
He ensured he touched everything through the carrier bag, careful not to leave any prints behind because if they ran them through their system the authorities would get the shock of their lives when he popped up. It was tempting to jump into the shower and douse himself with cold water until his scalp stopped burning but for the same reason he didn’t dare.
Two minutes after he’d exited the house he came upon a knackered old turd brown Volvo that was non-descript, instantly forgettable and easy to break into. Perfect. The owner would probably thank him because with the insurance money they could buy something better, like a pushbike.
He had no tools with which to break in so - after checking no one was about - he simply smashed the window with a loose brick he found discarded on the ground, knocking out the remaining sharp shards with a stick. In this weather it would look like he had the window down.
He jumped in, swearing under his breath when the engine coughed then died away altogether when he tried to hotwire it.
“Come on you bastard, come on,” he muttered.
Finally the engine spluttered into life. Docherty put it into gear and he was off, surprised when he saw the fuel gauge hovering over the three quarter mark. More than enough to get to Blair Dubh.
“Freya, I’m coming,” he smiled.
Mandy pressed her ear to the door, listening to the men’s conversation. Three hours she’d waited here for Freya to come home and judging by what she’d just heard she wouldn’t be back any time soon. Mandy sighed and dumped the knife on the hallway table. She’d planned it all so perfectly too. She’d watched this flat for months, learnt Freya and Craig’s routines by heart and knew that Freya came home early on Friday afternoons.
Her plan had been to break in - the only part that had worked perfectly thanks to the tuition of an old friend with a dubious past who had a huge crush on her. Then the moment Freya walked through the door she would stab her to death. With her finally out of the way Craig would realise he still loved her and they would be together again.
She’d wiled away the time waiting for Freya wandering around the flat going through their stuff, thinking how she’d change the décor when she moved in. She’d already stuffed some of the more hideous items into a bin bag; ugly thick black candlesticks, a couple of weird fantasy prints involving vampires and a revolting black plastic skull. What an object to have in a bedroom, she couldn’t understand how Craig tolerated it. At least he wouldn’t have to put up with crap like that for much longer.
Mandy had gone through Freya’s clothes too, hacking at them with the knife, the sight of all the black enraging her. There had only been one item of any colour in her wardrobe - an ivory wedding dress - and even Mandy had to own that it was beautiful. Although she loved beautiful things she’d destroyed that too simply because it was Freya’s. Then she’d poured pepper into her underwear drawer, which was again all black. At least it would make it harder to see the pepper.
Having free rein of someone else’s home, rummaging through their things, was tremendously exciting and Mandy had laid down on Craig’s side of the bed, able to tell which was his because of his scent on the pillow, and touched herself, recalling what it had felt like when he’d made love to her. After the moan had left her lips she’d slowly opened her eyes to find herself all alone and had gone into a frenzy, stabbing Freya’s pillow, imagining she was lying on it. Craig was a good lover, one of the best she’d ever had, and she was determined to feel him inside her again. He’d come back to her once the witch was dead.
It had all been perfect until she’d overheard that conversation just outside the door, which explained why Freya hadn’t returned home and everything had gone wrong. Enraged, Mandy picked up the knife and hacked at the settee, which of course was black too, opening up a large gash in the leather, the innards pop
ping out, making it look like a gutted animal.
As she raised the knife again she hesitated. Thanks to the men’s conversation and the ridiculously thin door she knew where they’d gone; back to Blair Dubh, that shitty little village. She’d been there before, she knew her way around. If she set off now she could be there by mid-afternoon.
A plan began to form in her mind and she smiled. She could disguise herself, they wouldn’t expect her to turn up there. She could follow them about and they wouldn’t even know until she found the perfect time to strike. The plan thrilled her. Maybe if she killed Freya in Blair Dubh she might not be suspected? There were plenty of men who would give her an alibi. She could count at least five off the top of her head who would be willing to brag to the police about how they spent the day in bed having sweaty athletic sex. Her aunt in Inverness, where Mandy was supposed to be, would lie for her too. Since she was a little girl her Aunt Regina had gone out of her way to protect her. Craig would be distraught by Freya’s death, he’d want comfort and she’d make sure she was there to provide him with all the comfort he needed then they’d pick up right where they’d left off. She wondered who the man at the door was, she hadn’t recognised him through the peephole and she couldn’t recall Craig ever mentioning a friend in England. Something in the man’s tone had told her he’d been lying to the maintenance man. If she saw him in Blair Dubh she would watch him closely. He might be a useful ally.
She slid the knife into her handbag and strode for the door, carefully locking it behind her, leaving the devastation in her wake. As she exited the main door she had to press herself against the wall to avoid being knocked down by a cross-looking man with a funny monkey walk. Mandy sneered as he passed her, despising him for his ugliness. She felt sorry for whoever he was going to visit.
Gray hammered on Freya’s door but got no response. When the door to the flat opposite opened he held up his warrant card. “DCI Gray, Greater Glasgow Police. I’m looking for Freya Donaldson.”
“Why, what has she done?” said the eager-eyed young blonde.
“Nothing. I’ve reason to believe she’s in danger.”
The woman’s eyes widened with excitement. “Really?”
“When did you last see her?”
The woman shrugged. “I don’t know, we keep ourselves to ourselves.”
“Do you know where she is?”
“She works as a counsellor, maybe she’s at her office? She was involved in those Elemental murders in that village in Ayrshire. Is it something to do with that?”
Gray refused to give the ghoul any more information. “If you see her please could you ask her to call me urgently?” he said, handing the woman his card. “I can’t stress how important it is that I speak to her as soon as possible.”
“What’s it about?” she said, but he was already hurrying back down the stairs, almost tripping over a skinny man with crooked yellow teeth repairing a cracked tile in the downstairs hall.
“Careful,” frowned the man.
“Sorry,” muttered Gray before barging his way out the door.
CHAPTER 10
“How are you feeling now?” Craig asked Freya.
“Okay. I’m getting used to it,” she replied with a small smile.
Once he’d steered them out of the marina Craig had just let the boat drift to give her time to acclimatise. They’d been aboard almost an hour and they’d only just reached Wemyss Bay, the next village after Inverkip. He hadn’t banked on Freya being so nervous on the water.
“Oh my God Craig. Look,” she cried, frantically pointing.
“What is it?”
“The Rothesay ferry.”
“Yeah, so?”
“Do we have to cross its path?”
“Yes,” he replied, unsure what she was getting at.
“What if we crash into it?”
“I’ll try not to.”
“Don’t joke. Look at the size of it then look at the size of our boat.”
“Freya it’s fine, honestly. There’ll be miles between us and it.”
“What if its waves capsize us?”
“They won’t. Loads of boats use this estuary every day and not one of them has ever been capsized by a ferry.”
She sighed. “You’re right. I’m being silly, aren’t I?”
He smiled and pecked her on the lips. “No, you’re being a right daftie. I know what I’m doing. Have a little faith in me.”
She ran her fingers along the line of his jaw. “Of course I do. Sorry.”
“It’s okay. Remember, this holiday is about relaxing and so far we’ve not done much of that.”
“You’re right.”
“Just let go,” he whispered before kissing her.
When Freya’s eyes widened and she pointed at something over his shoulder, Craig rolled his eyes.
“There’s two big ships coming at us.”
He turned to see two tugs chugging their way up the estuary, engines rumbling noisily. “They’re so far away they’re nearly in another time zone. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. We’re still quite a distance from Arran. Do you want to go home?”
She appeared torn before resolution filled her eyes. “No, I’m not giving up. We can at least get to Blair Dubh. That’s closer than Arran.”
“Are you sure you can cope with the village as well as the boat?”
Although Craig had been back to Blair Dubh since The Elemental incident to visit his mum Freya hadn’t, unable to face it. Nora had travelled to Glasgow to see them instead.
“Yes. I want to see Mum and Dad’s graves.”
“Okay.” What a cheerful holiday this was going to be. “If you’re up to it later maybe we can go on a bit further down the coast?”
“Sounds nice. Now would you mind looking forwards? We’re getting close to that bloody ferry.”
With a wry smile he rested his hand on the wheel, although there was no need to. The most danger they experienced as they passed the ferry was a slight rocking and Freya breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’d no idea you were such a wuss,” said Craig.
“I am not.”
“You are.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. “I’ve got an idea that will help you relax,” he said with a lascivious wiggle of the eyebrows.
“Yeah, that’s great. Please keep your hands on the wheel.”
Craig released her with a sigh and returned to his post, sulking.
“Marcus darling, I don’t know how to thank you for this,” purred Mandy.
“Anything for you,” he smiled, holding her hand to assist her to step aboard. Not that she needed any help, she knew all about sailing thanks to an ex-boyfriend with his own luxury yacht, but she let him help because he enjoyed it. The boat was a neat little cabin cruiser, nothing too flash, which had initially disappointed her because he’d always bragged about his expensive boat. She’d soon realised this was a good thing, the situation required subtlety. For the first time in her life she didn’t want everyone staring at her.
“Need any company?” said Marcus.
“Tempting offer but I need some time alone to think.”
“Shame because it’s very cosy down there. We could have a lot of fun,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.
She allowed his lips to lightly brush hers before turning her head away. She didn’t want him at all but it was good to keep him dangling, make him think there was some hope so he would continue to jump at her every command.
“I’ve a lot to think about, including you,” she said huskily. She leaned in closer. “Especially when I’m tucked up in bed all alone wearing next to nothing” she whispered, just allowing their lips to touch one more time before pulling away.
Marcus beamed. “I’ll be thinking about you too sweetheart, make no mistake about that,” he said, slapping her on the backside.
Mandy forced herself to smile, although inwardly she considered stabbing him in the chest with the knife hidden in her handbag then
pushing him over the side, but he might come in useful one day. Marcus was big and handsome with an adorable grin. They’d met on a photoshoot, he’d been the model she’d had to pose with and she wanted to like him but no one could compare to Craig. Sometimes she wished she could find the part of her brain that couldn’t stop thinking about him, pull it out and start over again, but that was impossible. He’d left her. No one had ever done that before and she needed him back. If she failed she didn’t know what she would do, she couldn’t face life without him. She needed him back under her spell, obedient and compliant, eager to fulfil her every whim like he’d been when they’d first met.
“See you in a week darling,” she told Marcus as he stepped off the boat.
He remained on the dock to watch her steer the boat out into the estuary. She’d driven like a demon to Largs marina, which wasn’t far at all from Blair Dubh. Half an hour down the coast and she’d be there.
She waved at Marcus until she rounded a bend and he finally disappeared.
“Thank God for that,” she said, relieved. She reclined back on the comfortable cream leather bench seat and tilted her face to the sky, enjoying the sun. Despite her red hair she rarely burned. It had been a while since she’d last been out on the water and she’d almost forgotten how much she loved the peace and the sense of freedom.
This was her last chance to forget about Craig and Freya and carry on past Blair Dubh and just have some fun. Even as she thought it she knew it wouldn’t happen but she’d promised to give herself the option. Her solicitor had explained to her that one more strike and she was out. If Craig and Freya went for a non-harassment order and she broke that after breaking the interdict then she would be sent down. She had to do this right. Get Freya out of the way without anyone realising she was responsible and Craig would come back to her, she was certain of it. Problem solved.
Before she arrived within sight of Blair Dubh she went down into the little bedroom in the boat to put on her disguise. First she hid her distinctive hair beneath a black bobbed wig then changed into a baggy yellow vest and khaki shorts. Not the sort of clothes she would normally wear, in fact she loathed them. At least her fabulous figure still looked good but then her body looked good in anything. A pair of sunglasses and a floppy sun hat completed the camouflage and she smiled at her reflection. Her own mother wouldn’t recognise her, never mind Craig.
The Drowning Tide (Blair Dubh Trilogy #2) Page 8