by Ian Skewis
‘Crow’s beak.’
Colin watched uncomfortably as Jack’s body twisted slightly with the effort to stay awake, his fingers flexing, grasping at thin air. Then he fell back into unconsciousness. It was too much for Colin, and he left with tears in his eyes.
For the rest of the day he was perplexed. What did he mean? What was he trying to tell me? In the end, he decided that it was just the musings of a barely conscious mind.
But what if?
He sat in the Crow’s Beak with Driscoll, watching everyone and everything, looking for a clue. As he did so, he could barely hear his subordinate, who was bitching about everything and nothing.
And nothing was what he came away with.
Chapter Sixty-Four
September 13th
Caroline Baker was sat between her mother and her brother in the back seat of the car as her father drove them out of Hobbs Brae. They sat in silence. There was nothing left to say. Her mother had done all the talking.
‘We’re taking a well-earned holiday in the south of France. You are coming with us. And you can forget about that job in the bookshop.’
‘I’ve probably lost it now, anyway,’ replied Caroline sullenly, but her brother gripped her arm so tightly it hurt, and she relented, much to her parents’ satisfaction. Bullies, all of them, she thought.
It seemed that no matter what she did or tried, she was always destined to disappoint. It had become clear that her parents were more upset about her pregnancy than the fact that she had almost died at the hands of a maniac. She knew from the looks they gave each other that they did not believe her story and that they viewed the doctor’s diagnosis of her trauma with more than a degree of scepticism.
She thought back to what had happened that night, but there were only snatches, glimpses: Alistair desperately, soundlessly shouting something to her; his hand reaching out; the wind and the rain…
The police had tried to jog Caroline’s memory by showing her the car that Alistair had driven to Hobbs Brae – but to no avail. Yet she could still smell his aftershave occasionally, could still feel his presence, as if he was watching over her even now, like some guardian angel. And she wondered what had actually happened that night. And she wondered if she would ever know. The not knowing exhausted her and it was why she had allowed her family to come and take her back home. She didn’t have any fight left in her.
Caroline believed that she had got exactly what she deserved because she had behaved selfishly and cowardly. I took advantage of a woman with a mental illness. Worse still, I betrayed Alistair. She wept bitterly at what she had done. For a time I thought I loved Alistair and I genuinely did, so much so that I was ready to bear his child. But now he’s gone, I feel terrible, because I don’t miss him as much as I should. He loved me and I betrayed him. I don’t deserve anyone.
Naturally, her thoughts turned to Matthew. She recalled how she had deliberately kept him in the background in case things with Alistair never worked out. She was caught between genuine love and love of surface. ‘Deeply shallow,’ she heard Alistair say. But her mother preferred Matthew for precisely that reason. He had better prospects and he looked better. Perhaps I’m more like my mother than I thought. She wept all the more at the admission.
She hated saying goodbye to Alice and Helen, who had been so kind to her, and she prayed that the police had got it wrong somehow – that Alistair was still alive out there somewhere.
With her luggage half-heartedly packed in the boot, she glanced sideways at her mother, who was staring straight ahead, her lips firmly closed, eyes as hard as diamonds; her brother, texting moodily on his phone. She caught her father’s eye in the mirror, but he quickly looked away, mouth set disapprovingly. The silence and the all-too-close proximity of her family were suffocating her. She felt the urge to scream or to run away, anything but this.
And it dawned on her that what she was feeling was displacement. She didn’t belong in the here and now. Her heart belonged in the past and she wanted to go back and retrieve it. Perhaps I will in time, she thought, her head hung low lest her family pick up on what she might be thinking. Perhaps I’ll run away whilst on holiday, make something of myself and one day return home when I feel ready to call the shots.
She paused to consider that perhaps Matthew’s jealousy of Alistair was such that he might have been responsible for his disappearance. But Caroline knew that was not the person she had once loved. Matthew was vain, he was envious, but he wasn’t a bad person. Besides, Caroline felt she wasn’t special enough to make someone feel so passionate about her. My mother made that clear from day one, she thought resentfully.
Alistair loved me. He made me feel special. So why did I betray him? Am I just fulfilling my mother’s ideals?
She thought of the kiss with Matthew in the garden that day. What happened to me? Where did my heart go?
She realised that she never did get to find out what the special surprise was that Alistair had in store for her. It took all her self control to stop bawling in front of everyone. So she sat tight, gripping her knees and looking down, into the past, her heart still lost somewhere in those woods, searching for the father of her unborn child.
Chapter Sixty-Five
September 13th
Jerome Jennings sat in front of the fire with Bessie at his feet, pondering the fate of the detective who had crashed in his car, and wondering why the police had thought that he was responsible. It was true that he disliked the uppity officer, but Jerome disliked most people and most people disliked him. Even the pub landlord had barred him on many occasions, but he spent a lot of money there and in a matter of days he would be allowed back in. Up until now he had never been branded a criminal.
His hopeless alibi and his hapless young solicitor weren’t enough to convince them, not with the blood found on his walking stick. The red-headed little detective who took over from his predecessor never left him alone after that. Even though he liked to think that he was still as tough as old boots, Jerome was considerably shaken by recent events and was suffering more doubts than ever before. His existence marginalised and his profits diminishing, he wondered if it was time to get off the wheel now, for he was tired of crop rotations and agricultural cycles. In fact, he was tired of life itself. Jerome was lonely. He had no family anymore. His wife long gone. His son now, too.
As he watched the flames licking at the grate, he thought back to the night the barn had burned down. He wondered what it would be like to just torch the entire farm and maybe start anew somewhere else, a long way away.
He looked down at Bessie, who was sleeping soundly – the only member of his family who remained. He smiled sadly. He knew in his heart of hearts that he could never commit to such destruction.
He found himself visiting Elspeth’s grave, the wind racing through the ruins of the old abbey and ruffling his shirt, the waves crashing in the distance. The roses in front of her headstone were wilting.
He looked around at the walls. Stoney. Cold to the touch. The bed equally so, despite the mattress. He snapped out of his fantasy and saw his situation for what it really was – a prison cell inside a police station. The reality of it all was finally beginning to sink in.
‘They think I killed someone, Elspeth,’ he declared despairingly. ‘What’s going to happen to me? To the farm, and Bessie?’
He wiped away a tear and tried to regain his composure, thinking to himself, I’ll do it tomorrow, Elspeth. Tomorrow is the day I begin again. Tomorrow I’ll bring you sunflowers.
Chapter Sixty-Six
September 13th
Rachel had murder on her mind.
She was mulling over the situation. The latest gossip was that her husband’s crash was a suicide attempt because he had killed his son in a car accident. She knew instantly who the culprit was.
She sighed dejectedly, for despite being married to him for all these years, Jack had kept his thoughts locked away in an undisclosed place. God knows what was going through his mind
now, if anything. The nurse had explained to her that the results of his progress were encouraging, but the intricacies of the Glasgow Coma Scale faded into obscurity, because all she could think about was the injustice of it all.
As she watched over him, and saw how decent professionals looked after his needs without prejudice, she began to defend herself, in small ways at first. Staring back for just a fraction longer than usual at whoever she caught eyeballing her. Not that they were. It just seemed that way. She felt almost as if the entire world was against her. Rachel soon realised with a heavy heart that without Jack she no longer amounted to much. Their lives were now so inextricably linked. This made her sad. She always thought that she was the stronger one, looking after her husband like a mother to a child, but now she realised that she needed him as much as he needed her. Rachel soon lost patience – never one of her virtues – and decided it was high time she fought back against the lies that had been perpetrated against her family.
Being married to a high-ranking detective had its advantages, for she had contacts she could call upon. Rachel thought long and hard about just who she needed most, and finally got in touch with the one person she could guarantee would help her.
She had arranged the meeting at a park in Inverness, not far from the hospital where Jack was being looked after. It was sunny – a nice day to be outside – and she needed the fresh air. Besides, it was good neutral territory. When she arrived to meet her contact, she wasn’t surprised to find that his two henchmen were with him, too.
Christ, they’re like a boy band, she thought, as she looked at the terrible trio: DCI Clements, flanked by his two officers. The one with the greasy black hair and sharp nose she knew as Driscoll. His dark, almond-shaped eyes upturned at the outer corners, giving him an almost feline disposition. Though more of a leopard than a tabby, she thought derisively. When she had encountered him on previous occasions, she had noticed that his eyes were always scanning everyone and everything, watching all the time. It was no different today, for he clocked her immediately, nudged Clements, and his stare turned predatory. She made her way across the grass in her flat, sensible shoes, catching sight of Campbell, the other henchman – hands in pockets, as if posing for a fashion catalogue. His constant desire to attract the opposite sex was humorous, but like Driscoll he appeared to have a constant agenda on his mind. She didn’t like or trust any of them, and she had no idea what Campbell and Driscoll’s forenames were. Right now she didn’t really care because she had an agenda of her own.
‘Well, well,’ said Colin, smiling inscrutably, the light bouncing off his spectacles. ‘I didn’t think you’d ever come out to play again after recent events.’
‘Well, I thought it’s such a lovely day today, so why not?’ she replied, smiling broadly and holding his gaze.
‘Why not indeed,’ he answered. ‘So how can I help you?’
‘I’ll get to that in a moment. First, I wanted to congratulate you,’ she said smoothly, offering her hand, which he accepted after only the slightest moment’s hesitation. The physical exchange was brief, however, for his palm was clammy, and by withdrawing her own hand sharply, she wanted to get her point across – that this was a mere formality and she was now intending to run the show. She stepped a little closer to him and said, ‘I need someone who can help fight my corner. Someone who will stand up for Jack and me.’
Colin’s smile remained fixed in place, but she could see his cohorts were looking awkward. Indeed, Colin himself had begun to fidget a little, rubbing his palm against the side of his thigh – an age-old tell that he was uncomfortable around her. But, then again, he always had been. She knew the dislike was, and always had been, mutual.
‘I know you have powerful contacts in the police force,’ she stated.
Colin laughed a little. ‘Well, hardly…’ he began.
‘Nevertheless, I need you to find out who has been instigating this barrage of deceit about my family. Can you do that for me?’
‘Well, I can try – but I can’t promise you anything,’ he said, still smiling like the Cheshire cat.
She inched closer and, almost nose to nose, looked right at him. ‘Don’t try. Just do. Jack has looked after you very well over the years and I know about some of your indiscretions. Jack has never said anything to anyone about that and I don’t intend to start talking about it now. You see, unlike a certain someone, I can keep my mouth shut. Of course, I know I can call upon you, because I feel it in my bones that we, I mean, Jack and I, can trust you implicitly.’ She gave him a firm smile and he stared back at her, his facade crumbling, for he knew a threat when he heard one.
‘How is he?’ he asked, more to break the silence than anything else.
‘Tell Mrs Clements she will be glad to hear that he’s rapidly improving,’ Rachel lied. ‘Down, but certainly not out.’
Mr Clements smarted, and his eyes narrowed a little behind his spectacles.
And that was that – for the time being. They parted company and she returned to the hospital. Rachel knew that he knew she was on to him, but that was precisely her point: face the enemy and tell them that you know what they are up to. Ensure their co-operation. Silence them. Destroy them if need be. All she had to do was to say a few carefully chosen words and let him read between the lines, for she believed that the unspoken word could be just as easily coercive as its spoken or written counterpart. She learned that from Jack, or perhaps he learned it from her; she could no longer remember. Either way, it was a passive aggressive masterpiece and it would get him to heel.
As she sat beside Jack’s bed, Rachel suddenly felt a dead weight lift. She was now free from all the dirt that had clung to her, burying her judgement under sediments of years past. It was time to move on, time to forget about Jamie. Their son was dead and nothing was ever going to bring him back.
For the first time she did not have any guilt about that. And it felt strange. A habit had been kicked. Now it seemed so easy. She could see clearly for the first time in years. There were possibilities now where previously there had been none. She still loved him, and always would, but he no longer occupied her whole heart the way he had done for so many years. He was still there, though: an eternally unruly teenager – now held firmly in place – a small splinter of pain and love, somewhere in the corner of her heart.
She stroked her husband’s forehead, and she wondered just how much he would remember when he woke up. Would he even remember Jamie at all? She found herself hoping that he would not, for she now believed firmly, and with the benefit of far too many years of hindsight, that sometimes forgetting was actually a very good thing…
Chapter Sixty-Seven
September 13th
‘A long time ago there was a man. A bad man.
And there was blood. Blood in extraordinary quantities.
I was an apprentice fisherman, eighteen years old. I worked for William Smith. On his boat. I went to the same school as his son, Alistair, though he was a good few years younger than me. Our lives have run in parallel ever since. At different times we both moved to Glasgow. At the same time we both went a-courting with Caroline.
It was fourteen years ago when it happened. There were five of us. Quite a rowdy bunch – they all drank a lot. Not on duty you understand, but, well, that’s the life of a fisherman, I suppose. We used to set out at three in the morning and catch fish off the coast. It was hard work but… well, I don’t need to tell you all this now, do I? You just want me to get to the meat. So I shall, in a moment.
But first of all let me tell you that, yes, I was looking for Alistair that night, as I had been every other night. And I did see a man in the woods, too. I followed him all the way until we reached the other side – and there was a field. I could see him walking across it, so I climbed the fence after him. I grabbed hold of the branch of an overhanging tree to steady myself, but it snapped off in my hand. I managed to land safely, but the man had heard the noise and turned round to see where it had come from. I sto
od my ground, hoping I couldn’t be seen in the shadows. Just then he made some kind of threatening gesture with his fists, so I prepared to defend myself by taking a step forward and raising mine. I hoped that this would be enough to deter him, but he started to advance towards me. I thought he might attack me, so I picked up a heavy branch that lay at my feet and was prepared to use it as a weapon. But then the man advanced closer and shouted something. I didn’t hear what it was, and didn’t want to stay to find out, so I bolted back over the fence and made my way as quickly as I could through the trees. But when I looked over my shoulder, I saw that the man was following me. After a while I lost him.
A short time later, I was relieved to see him getting back into his car. I’d escaped. This, and the fact that the sun was rising, made me feel a little better about coming out into the open. But just as I was about to, I saw something odd – an old man with a walking stick, who appeared to be trying to run away from the man in the car, who was now revving up his engine as if he intended to run him down. I had no idea what, if anything, had occurred between the two men prior to this, but to all intents and purposes, it looked like I had stumbled upon an attempt at murder.
The man gave chase in his car, driving at high speed, and the old man seemed to be running for his life. They both disappeared over the hill. There was a screech of tyres, followed by a loud crash. I ran as fast as I could to help, and when I reached the top of the hill I saw the car lying upside down in a ditch. I never faltered, but when I got to the vehicle I saw that the old man was gone. I looked around but I couldn’t see him. And to be honest there wasn’t a moment to waste because I intended to rescue the driver, who must have been in a bad way – but then the police arrived and, well, you know the rest.