The Tears of Angels

by Caro Ramsay

  Batten nodded. ‘That’s right. When Jimmy demonstrated, it was like an overarm bowl.’

  ‘So why are there no injuries to the top of the skull? They are on the side; the fractures run inwards, not downwards, so the blows were horizontal. From someone roughly the same height. Not from someone much taller.’

  Batten and Wyngate looked at each other.

  ‘I don’t think for a minute it will stand up to vigorous cross examination, but it’s a starting point. This is a “definite” in a maze of supposition.’

  ‘Wait a minute,’ said Batten. ‘Mitchum said it right at the start. Anderson has quoted it to me, “Jimmy’s testimony never wavered.” Word for word. We took the boat up the shore. Warren pulled it high on the beach, in case the weather turned, he said. And he repeats exactly the same words. The interviewer interrupts but Jimmy soon gets back to the agreed script. Until he gets to the bit where he pulls Callum up … but I couldn’t save him … I couldn’t save him. At that point he always dissolves into tears. Because at that point the story breaks down. I was looking for escalation from Warren. I was looking in the wrong place. It explains what happened to all those Dewar family pets. Cassie the dog, the mice, Petra the cat. I’ve read the emails from the vets. Chilling.’

  ‘So these injuries happened when they were with Jimmy, not Eoin?’

  ‘Just forget what you’ve been told and ask yourself who had injuries that were never that serious. Because they were self-inflicted. Who discovered Grace’s body? Who got off the island? Who could get to the Dreamcatcher? Where is he now?’

  ‘With his gran,’ said Wyngate.

  ‘Do you have authority to send somebody out to sit with him?’ O’Hare asked.

  ‘I’ll try.’ Batten looked at the clock. ‘Wyngate, how long would it take you to drive us out to Inchgarten?’

  O’Hare put his hands up. ‘Count me out. I’m still suffering from the last time I was in a field with DCI Anderson.’

  Batten stood up and tightened the thong round his neck. ‘Might be best. It could get nasty.’

  ‘Nasty? We are looking at a twelve-year-old triple child killer. How much more nasty can you get?’

  ‘It’s only half the story, isn’t it? The boy is a psychopath, can’t help it. But somebody is doing all this stuff with the cards. And that is evil.’

  Anderson looked round, trying to gauge where everybody was. They had kept the news of the discovery of the life raft to themselves. He had kept the enhancement of the second part of the video to himself. Only Vik and Elvie knew. One firecracker to spark off a few memories.

  ‘OK. So can you all remember where you were the night of the incident?’ Anderson flicked a look at his watch. It was five past eleven. ‘Fergus, you were sitting right where you are now. And Tony, you were over there?’

  ‘Playing the pipes,’ added Tony.

  ‘Then you stopped. Did you put the pipes away up at the house, or in the Boathouse?’

  Tony looked about. ‘I just leaned them against the log there. I was passing some drink round and …’

  ‘You were. Daisy was coming down with another bottle?’

  ‘That’s right. I was standing up, here.’

  ‘For part of the evening I was standing here with my back to the fire,’ said Tony.

  ‘We have been over this a thousand times,’ Isobel complained.

  ‘So bear with me. Eoin was sitting beside you.’

  ‘We were arguing about something, so what?’

  ‘Well I joined in, we were arguing about wind farms,’ said Tony. ‘I was about here. Daisy at some point sat down in front of me, nearer the water, I mean.’ He pointed and Daisy moved.

  Isobel then added, ‘I stood up and moved away over there.’

  ‘Why?’

  ‘Because the smoke was blowing this way.’

  ‘You’re right. I came round because the smoke was in my eyes,’ said Daisy.

  Costello circled the bay like a hyena, watching them. Anderson poked at the fire a little, sending out a rush of sparks. He looked at them through the smoke that burled into the night sky, a midsummer night. It was never really going to get dark.

  He looked at the line-up sitting opposite him …

  Isobel, Fergus, Ruth, Eoin, Daisy, and Tony standing slightly behind them, looking down over the water. He looked to the left, the small curve of Roonbay, the Rocking Stone. The dark mass of Inchgarten Island sitting low in the water. Through the smoke it looked ghostly dark and threatening.

  ‘So at the critical time, what happened? It was Fergus who raised the alarm, wasn’t it?’ asked Anderson. ‘Then Eoin saw Jimmy coming back. But it was Ruth who was looking out over the water.’

  Ruth shrugged.

  Costello pursed her lips.

  ‘At some point I was sitting with my back to the fire slightly and didn’t see. I wasn’t watching. Not all the time. But I was right here.’

  ‘No, I bet you were busy having a laugh with my husband. That’s why you didn’t see your own son, Ruth!’ said Isobel. ‘Your son!’

  ‘And you?’

  ‘I went to get a blanket. I was coming down the path when I heard,’ spat Isobel.

  Anderson noted the vitriol in her voice. ‘And when you all saw Jimmy, what happened?’ he asked calmly, daring them to look at each other as the terrible memories began to surface. ‘So what happened then?’

  ‘This is bloody worse than Agatha Christie,’ muttered Isobel.

  ‘I think I went over there, as Fergus was already on his feet,’ said Eoin, pointing to the far side of the log. ‘And when I got to the sand I noticed it was only Jimmy.’

  ‘How far out was the Dreamcatcher?’

  ‘Close enough for us to see that it was only Jimmy. Ruth grabbed my arm, she was shouting for Callum. I remember thinking that it must be OK as Robbie wasn’t in the boat either …’

  ‘OK.’ Anderson picked a branch from the fire and waved it in the air, sending sparks dancing in the gentle swirling wind, sending a clear signal. He checked the time again; it was still earlier now than it had been on the night the boys died. But even with this light he would have found it difficult to see until the Dreamcatcher was close. ‘Were all the others up by then?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘All looking that way?’

  ‘Yes.’

  ‘Can you recall where you all were, even approximately?’

  They shuffled into position, Tony giving Fergus a helping hand. Daisy pointed out that Tony had stood on the log. All of them were down on the bay side of the fire, all of them had a good view of the water.

  ‘And none of you saw anything? Although you were all looking?’ asked Anderson, incredulous.

  ‘No, Fergus walked on to the shore. Eoin started to wade into the water, he pulled his top off, and he started to swim. Daisy was beside him. Then Tony ran for the Scoob …’

  Daisy closed her eyes. ‘The boy was screaming, Tony ran back …’

  Anderson recalled the original statement to the police. It all fitted. Jimmy was rowing over. He was completely hysterical. They would have been alerted by his screaming, the sound carrying well over the water. A wee kid out on the ice-cold water alone. Eoin fit, able to swim out to help. The pragmatic Tony going for the Scoob then coming back as the Dreamcatcher approached. Eoin in plain sight. Nobody saw the life raft. They were caught up in the terror of a twelve-year-old boy.

  ‘Fergus was standing, right there, in the water.’ Daisy pointed. ‘I was standing beside him.’

  ‘Costello, can you be Fergus—’ He was cut off by a scream, a blood-curdling screech in the night air.

  It was Ruth, shrieking, pointing. Out over the water.

  ‘Jesus,’ said Costello, clutching at Anderson, who told her to be quiet.

  ‘What the fuck!’

  Anderson couldn’t tell who said what as the Dreamcatcher floated into sight, a lone figure paddling. The boat seemed to glide above the water. Daisy nervously stood in her position, then reversed a lit
tle.

  It was then that Anderson noticed Ruth was moving now. Ruth, the one who had recognized the sight of the life raft. So, on the actual night, where had she been? Surely, the concerned mother would have been on her feet, searching the skyline.

  ‘Had you all had a drink by this time?’ he asked, waiting for Ruth to do something. She didn’t.

  Anderson noticed that Tony had also not moved. He was standing biting his lip, his hand running up and down his arm. He was looking round the assembled company.

  ‘We have seen a film, a film taken on the night the boys were killed, and on that film we can actually see the murder take place.’

  ‘So you know who murdered the boys then?’ Tony asked. His hands spread in wonderment. ‘Jesus.’

  ‘Not the murder of Callum McCardle or the murder of Robbie Dewar. But the murder of Warren McAvoy.’

  There was an audible intake of breath then somebody, Fergus maybe, said, ‘That’s shite.’

  ‘Oh no, you can see it clearly. He is on the raft, paddling with one knee on the wall of the inflatable craft.’ The light of the flames moved around, creating shadows where there were none. The sky was grey, blending into the dark hills. Somebody moved – he didn’t see who. ‘Something hits him in the chest and he doubles up. He’s in the water, he dies.’ The night air had now closed in round the fire; the wind snatched at the flames, causing them to dance one way then the other.

  ‘He died that night, trying to get off the island, trying to raise the alarm. He was shot while he was in open water by somebody here in Inchgarten Bay. The film is very clear, he grasps at his chest and is thrown into the water. Whatever hit him, hit him with great force. And you don’t have any guns round here, do you, Tony?’

  He shook his head. ‘I certainly do not.’

  ‘I’ve had enough of this.’ Eoin was the first to break.

  ‘Maybe a drink would calm everybody down,’ suggested Fergus with some humour.

  Daisy looked to Anderson for permission. He nodded.

  ‘I’ll give you a hand,’ said Ruth, standing up.

  ‘Thanks – that would be great. Come on then.’ The two women walked up the slope to the Boathouse, Mr Peppercorn trotting behind them. ‘It’s good to see you, Ruth. It’s good for you to be here, lay the ghosts to rest.’ They hugged and walked off.

  Isobel sat still, arms folded. She got up and walked slowly round the fire towards Anderson.

  ‘DCI Anderson,’ she said, her voice quivering. ‘I don’t think she was there. Eoin is lying. He’s lying.’

  ‘Who wasn’t there?’

  ‘Ruth.’ Isobel’s face crumpled. ‘I never realized it until now. But I wasn’t there when Eoin shouted. When I heard Jimmy, I was coming out the lodge. I went back in to get a blanket, I brought it down here. I passed Ruth when I was coming back. She was on her way up. She said something to me, something about Fergus being drunk again. And I know that I’m right because I went down to stand beside Eoin in the water.’ She raised her arms. ‘I was the one holding on to Eoin. She wasn’t there.’

  Anderson nodded thankfully, ‘Thanks, Isobel. Can you sit down as you were and say nothing?’

  Isobel looked very pale as she walked away, her eyes following the way Ruth had walked.

  Anderson walked casually round to Costello who was still on the shore, looking across the loch. He explained what she had told him.

  ‘So she was not here then,’ said Costello. ‘And she is not here now.’

  ‘Eoin, where has Ruth gone?’ asked Costello.

  ‘She went up there somewhere. Behind the Boathouse, with Daisy,’ his jaw fixed, a tic flicked on his cheek.

  ‘Daisy’s back. Where is Ruth?’

  Eoin bit his lip. ‘She’s away because she is too vulnerable for this, too scared to face it. Of course she needs to get away.’

  ‘Eoin? Come on,’ pleaded Anderson.

  Eoin’s face froze, he looked haunted. ‘Why would any woman return to the place where her only child was murdered?’

  ‘No, none of that. You can stop this,’ said Anderson, his hand out, warning Costello to be quiet.

  ‘Yes, I can. If you let me.’ He pushed Anderson out the way, charging up the path to follow Ruth.

  Anderson moved his eyes to Walker and the two uniformed cops on the veranda of the lodge. ‘If she is going to top herself then we are not going to help wading in, are we?’ he said.

  Costello looked out into the falling darkness, just able to make out outlines, shadows and shapes. ‘If.’

  ‘What do you mean, “if”?’

  ‘It might be them. Two sets of footsteps in, only one set out. The way he lifted Ruth over the log. The easy way she allowed herself to be lifted. Ruth said she never saw Eoin these days. She’s the one Sammy was talking to, passing on all sorts. And there is no way Ruth sat still while all that hell broke out last year. Daisy and Fergus would have blocked her view, if nothing else, especially Daisy. Need a wide angle lens to see round her.’

  ‘Ruth and Eoin?’

  ‘Bet my career on it. We have everybody here. So call in back-up and get those two picked up. What’s that smell? Burning?’

  ‘Something on the bonfire.’

  But Tony was on his feet, sniffing the air. ‘Something is on fire.’ He was looking south towards the Roonbay. ‘The smoke is drifting from over there. Oh God, the wood is on fire.’

  ‘Well, Ruth went over there.’ Anderson pointed in the opposite direction, but he could see clearly now the plumes of smoke rising, acrid and billowing. ‘And a flaming arrow can set anything on fire.’

  Smoke rose on both sides of the bay. And his heart chilled as he saw the flames licking at the Dreamcatcher.

  They heard a rush of quick feet moving through the undergrowth, a shadow passed over the fire. A sudden scream chilled their blood, echoing round the night air. The echo continued as the scream was cut to silence.

  ‘Who was that, Colin?’

  ‘No idea.’ But he started walking. ‘I think we have fucked up big time. Isobel? Fergus? Get into the lodge. Vik, you keep them there.’ Tony helped Fergus up, and a very pale Isobel hurried in, closely followed by Daisy. The breeze changed direction, causing the flames of the bonfire to swirl and flare. The crackles of the blaze in the woods were carried away and a stillness fell on the campsite. Once the door of the lodge had closed with everybody else inside, there was only the crackling of the bonfire.

  ‘And now what?’ said Walker, coming down the stairs, holding on to the handrail. He was shaking.

  ‘We get our ducks in a row,’ said Costello, looking at the sky that was starting to spot with rain. ‘Back-up is parked round the corner.’ She spoke into her phone, then swore. ‘Well, keep trying. They can’t get through the smoke, either way. Somebody has set their fires very carefully. We are cut off.’

  Anderson watched the horizon. The air was still and deadly silent, broken by a howl. A primal wail that went on and on. Then stopped abruptly.

  ‘What the fuck was that?’ asked Walker.

  Anderson was already pulling them both back into the cover of the trees. ‘That, I fear, was Mr Peppercorn.’

  ‘So what do we do now? We’re trapped.’

  ‘This is not a good situation,’ said Walker.

  Anderson put his phone away. ‘I can’t raise Cusack or Dempsey. We have been outmanoeuvred. We have water in front, a fire on either side and Eoin on the loose with Ruth under his spell.’

  ‘Or vice versa?’ said Costello. ‘You got any ID …’ At that moment something in the boat shed blew up. The pressure wave hit them in the stomach just before the sound wave rattled their eardrums. ‘Walker, you get in the lodge, don’t want to be responsible for you.’

  ‘And you?’ Walker asked. ‘What about you?’

  ‘I’m going after her,’ said Costello.

  ‘Her?’

  ‘Oh yes, definitely her.’

  ‘I suppose a joke about you knowing a mad woman would be inappropriate?’ sai
d Walker, trying a smile through his fear.

  ‘As in takes one to know one?’ Costello smiled back. ‘Come on, Colin.’

  They had had a daft moment, bumping along the track. Claire laughing as she was thrown about in her seat. Helena beyond caring.

  ‘Yahhhhh hoooo,’ shouted Claire, a kid again as the car hit a pothole in the track.

  Helena had smiled and put her foot on the accelerator. It was all a bit Thelma and Louise. She started to shriek along with Claire.

  Helena had noticed the smell of petrol in the air. She had stepped over dry grass on the path, cut dry grass, like somebody had been gathering it. Colin had said something about them having a bonfire here.

  But now, walking along the darkening track with the swirling, deceitful wind … Claire was getting nervy.

  ‘So why are you bringing me all the way out here?’

  ‘I know you want to see your dad, Claire.’ Helena kept walking, trying to stride out confidently. She was angry. Angry that somebody had threatened a child. Welcome to Colin’s world. Was it not the death of a four-year-old that had sparked all this off?

  ‘But he might not be here.’

  ‘He’ll be here.’ Helena kept walking. She was part of this. Right at this moment Helena wished she wasn’t, she wanted to stop to catch her breath for a moment, but Claire was now ahead of her, walking away confidently down the path to the holiday village, looking for her dad.

  Helena heard an animal yelp, like it was in pain.

  ‘What was that?’

  ‘Nothing, keep walking. The country is full of things killing other things.’ She could see the light smoke of the bonfire curling into the sky. The walk seemed to take forever. She slowed up. Claire would appear then disappear as the path twisted and turned in front of her, shouting bits of conversation over her shoulder, then too far ahead for Helena to hear.

  Claire was already down at the lochside by the time Helena walked out from the cover of the trees. She was standing by the water in a perfect silhouette, looking at the top of the Ben, shrouded in clouds, Payne’s, indigo, all kinds of blue and grey rolling in. She saw the smoke rolling in, crackling and gnawing.