“So it’s really over between you and Mandy?” she said.
“God yes, she was a nightmare.”
“So am I.”
“You have your moments,” he smiled before kissing her, tasting soap suds on her lips. “So what do you say?”
“I say yes,” she replied, treating him to another smile.
CHAPTER 17
Craig helped Freya back into bed and tucked her in. She took some of the painkillers Martin had left then drifted off to sleep. Craig crept downstairs to find Gary and Steve. “How did you get on with the interviews?”
“They all say they were in the pub when Freya was taken, but it’s crammed full of people. Any one of them could have snuck out without the others realising,” replied Gary.
“Except for the doctor, he was sat with a sick patient, Joanie McNab. I went to the house to confirm this but I was told to go back in about half an hour, Joanie was being sick.”
“She’s been unwell for a long time,” said Nora. “But she keeps hanging on in there.”
“What’s wrong with her?” said Craig.
“Cancer, terminal. Fred’s been nursing her for months.”
Craig rubbed at his grainy eyes. He was exhausted but there was no time for sleep.
“I want to speak to everyone on our suspect list. Gary, I want you to sit with Freya. Don’t let her out of your sight.” Craig told him firmly.
Gary nodded and ran a hand down his face, skin rasping against the stubble. He looked as exhausted as Craig felt. “Got it.”
Craig clapped him on the shoulder in a half-hearted attempt at solidarity but they were both too tired for it to work properly.
While Gary went upstairs to begin guard duty Craig went across the road to the pub with Steve and his mum, who needed a stiff drink. The mood was a lot different to the last time he was in there. Rather than shouting and aggression he was greeted with silence and shame.
“How’s Freya?” asked Gordon, white as a sheet with dark rings around his eyes. Silence reigned as everyone waited for Craig’s reply, only this time their eyes were full of sympathy.
“She’ll live, no thanks to anyone in this room.”
“Craig I…” began Bill.
“I don’t want to hear it.” It occurred to Craig that in all the chaos he’d forgotten to ask Bill an important question. “What did you do with the robes you wore to scare Freya?”
“I hid them in the bottom of my wardrobe.”
“So you’ve not used them since or taken them out of the house?”
“No.”
Craig’s eyes settled on Martin. “A word.”
The doctor looked a little startled at being summoned so solemnly but obediently followed Craig through to the back room.
There was no amiability left in Craig. He didn’t care that he’d known this man his whole life. Freya had almost died and he was a suspect. “Where were you between one and three this afternoon?”
“Err, I…I…” he stammered, unnerved by the anger radiating off Craig. “I went to see Joanie, Fred’s wife. All this business has made her ill.”
“Who saw you there?”
“Just Joanie. Fred was there when I arrived but he left to come here. I said I’d sit with her to give him a break, he’s cooped up in that house a lot, he’s her only carer.”
“And they can both testify to you being there?”
“Yes.”
Craig was downhearted. “I will be speaking to them both to confirm that.”
“Okay. Can I go now?” Craig’s aggressive demeanour was making him nervous.
“Fine. Send Howard through. I’ve not finished with him.”
“Will do,” said Martin, glad to get out of the room. A reluctant Howard appeared a minute later.
“Hello?” he said warily.
“Sit down Howard. I want to continue our little chat.”
The little man took his seat and Craig scrutinised him closely to purposefully put him on edge. He couldn’t possibly have taken Freya because he was with him when she was abducted but that didn’t mean he was innocent of killing Catriona, Claire and Brenda.
“Did you kill Catriona?”
“No.”
Craig raised a doubtful eyebrow.
“I didn’t,” he cried, hands starting to shake.
“What’s your opinion of Freya?”
He was disorientated by the sudden change of subject, as was Craig’s intention.
“She’s a very nice woman.”
“That’s not what you said earlier.”
“That was before I knew she wasn’t the killer.”
“You’re the killer, aren’t you Howard? That’s why you tried to cast suspicion on her.”
“No you’ve got it all wrong, I didn’t…I wouldn’t…” His lower lip started to wobble and he buried his face in his hands. “Please, I didn’t,” he said, actual tears forming in his eyes.
“Did you lend the key to the church to anyone?”
Once again he was thrown. “Excuse me?”
“The key for the church?” he repeated.
“What church?”
The muscle at the base of Craig’s jaw throbbed with anger. “The big fuck-off church at the top of the hill. Has anyone borrowed it off you recently?”
“No. Why?”
“Where do you keep it?”
“In a drawer at home.”
“Does anyone know where you keep it?”
“Half the village. We all went up there a few months ago to do some cleaning, it took days because it hadn’t been touched for a couple of years. We thought it shocking it going to rack and ruin like that. Some days I couldn’t be there because of work so I leant the key out to other people.”
“Who did you lend it to?”
“Err, Catriona.” His eyes misted at the memory of her and he gazed into space.
“Who else?” demanded Craig, snapping him out of it.
“Lizzy, Brenda…”
“Any men?”
“None that I can think of.”
“How long did each woman have the key in her possession for?”
“I don’t know, a couple of days.”
Ample time for someone to have a copy made, thought Craig. Someone could have taken it from them without them knowing, which didn’t help him get any closer to the killer.
“You can go now,” he said with a dismissive wave of the hand. “Send Toby in.”
Toby wasn’t as easily intimidated as Martin and Howard and he sat across from Craig and glared at him.
“I want to press charges against Freya,” he opened.
Craig’s expression darkened. “You’d do that to a woman who almost died today?”
“She could have severely injured me.”
“But she didn’t.” Craig leaned across the table. “You push this Toby and I swear you’ll suffer for it.”
“You’re threatening me?”
“Yes and there’s no one to hear it. As far as I’m concerned that’s an end to the matter.”
“Then I’m not talking,” he said, getting to his feet.
“This is a police investigation and you will cooperate.”
“Up yours.”
Craig jumped up and slammed the man back down in his seat. “I’m not finished.”
Toby looked up at him warily, still defiant but much less lairy. “Alright, get it over with.”
“Thank you Sir,” smiled Craig, retaking his seat. “Where were you between one and three this afternoon?”
“At home. I read for a bit then had a nap.”
“How can you nap with all this going on?”
“I’ve not been sleeping well at nights, I never do when there’s a storm. I was reading and nodded off. It wasn’t intentional.”
“Did you kidnap Freya and dump her in the oubliette?”
“Certainly not.”
Craig sized him up. Toby was certainly physically capable of being the killer and he was arrogant enough. His conceit remi
nded him of the Bellfield Monster and it was well known that a huge ego was all part of a serial killer’s make-up. But why would he commit these crimes? He was an outsider.
“Have you heard of Father Alexander Logan?”
“Of course I’ve heard of him, it’s all anyone’s talking about but I never met the man. I saw him a couple of times just after I moved into the village but I never spoke to him. If you want to know who’s obsessed with him then you should talk to Adam, he knows all about him.”
“What are you talking about?”
“Adam’s a ghoul, he knows all the gory details of the original murders, even some I’ve never heard before.”
“Such as?”
“Now I don’t know how accurate this is but apparently Logan buried another woman alive in the churchyard before Lorna MacDiarmid, the first victim. He buried her then returned to the Parish House to watch the grave, knowing the poor woman was slowly suffocating. Sick stuff.”
“What?” exclaimed Craig, thinking about how Freya said her attacker wanted to watch her die.
Toby frowned. “You didn’t know?”
“No, no one does. That woman’s body has never been found. Why have you never mentioned this before?”
“I didn’t see how it was relevant. He’s just a young lad with an interest in serial killers.”
“Excuse me, he’s interested in serial killers?”
“You’ve obviously never been in his room. It’s full of weird posters and books.”
“What were you doing in his room?”
Toby frowned. “I accidentally spilled coffee over my laptop a few weeks ago. Adam said I could use his to check my e-mail and his computer is in his bedroom, it isn’t portable. It was perfectly innocent, not what your disturbed mind’s thinking.”
“Where’s Adam now?”
He shrugged. “How should I know?”
Craig shot to his feet. “Do not leave this pub,” he said before rushing out of the room.
As he sped through the bar Steve entered by the front door. “Sarge, I spoke to Fred and Joanie, they confirmed the doctor was at theirs when Freya was taken.”
“Thought they might,” he said, eyes jumping about the room, seeking Adam, but he wasn’t there.
“Gordon, have you seen Adam?” he asked quietly.
“Not for a while.”
“When did you last see him?”
He thought hard. “Just after Freya had been locked in the cellar.”
“Come on,” Craig told Steve.
“Where are we going?” he said, following him outside.
“Adam Michie’s. Apparently he’s got a morbid interest in serial killers, especially Father Logan. He knows something about the original case that no one else does.”
“What’s that?”
“That there was a victim before Lorna MacDiarmid, who was thought to be Logan’s first victim.”
“Christ.”
“I know.”
The rain was easing up and weak sunshine was starting to break through. The storm was finally beginning to blow itself out, thank God. Soon the cavalry would be able to come through.
“Which house is it?” said Steve.
“Two doors down,” replied Craig, pointing to a white cottage with a yellow door.
Craig burst in without knocking to find a little old woman sat in an armchair knitting by the fire. The boom boom boom of a drum and the deep warble of a bass guitar drifted down from above.
“Who’s there?” she called, fear in her voice.
“It’s alright Betty it’s just me, Sergeant Donaldson and PC McKay.”
“Oh thank the Lord for that, you scared me Boy.”
He watched her fingers deftly moving the needles, so practiced they fortunately had no use for her sightless eyes. “Sorry. Is Adam here?”
“He’s in his room. That bloody music’s been playing all day, it’s giving me a headache.”
“Can we go up and see him?”
“Fine by me. Can you convince him to turn that racket off before I lose my mind?”
“Will do Betty.”
Craig nodded at Steve and the two of them raced upstairs and into Adam’s bedroom. The heavy rock music was so loud they had to clamp their hands over their ears but the room was empty.
“Shit, where is he?” said Craig, switching off the stereo.
“Good thing about small villages, there’s only so many places you can hide,” replied Steve. “But it breaks his alibi. His gran thought he was up here and he isn’t, so it’s possible he wasn’t here when each of the women were killed.”
Craig nodded in agreement, eyes wandering about the room. “This is just weird.”
Every spare inch of wall was covered in posters, mainly films; Clockwork Orange, Texas Chainsaw Massacre, Silence of the Lambs, Psycho, if it involved murder Adam liked it.
“Look at these books,” said Steve, peering at a shelf clinging to a wall. “Bundy, Gacy, Tobin, Dahmer, they’re all about serial killers.”
Craig snapped on a pair of latex gloves. “Let’s search it.”
The only thing they found was a scrapbook about the original Elemental Murders hidden under the bed, newspaper clippings photocopied from the original editions. There was even a photograph of a young Freya with her long blond hair, the sympathetic figure as the only child of the last victim. There wasn’t one mention of Logan because the Procurator Fiscal at the time made sure his name was kept out of it.
“If he is the killer it makes sense why he went for Freya, but why the others? If he idolised Logan then surely Claire should have been sacrosanct to him?” said Craig. “Why kill her? She would have been an endless font of information about her son. And why choose Brenda and Catriona, out of all the women in the village? Surely Betty and Joanie would have been much easier targets, less able to put up a fight.”
“Did they have anything to do with the original victims?”
“No, they weren’t related. Other than the fact they were neighbours there was nothing. Dammit, something’s linking these four women, just like they did Logan’s victims, there’s a pattern to it that we’re just not seeing.” He thought back over Freya’s past, the only one he knew. Drugs, drink, violence, none of these things affected any of the other women, he was sure of it. He pulled out his mobile phone and called Gary, relieved when it connected, a sure sign the storm was on its way out.
“How’s things?” Craig asked him.
“Quiet. Freya’s just woken up, I made her some toast.”
“That’s good news,” he said, relieved. “We’ve got a suspect. Adam Michie.”
“The young blond lad?”
“That’s the one. We’ve found a lot of creepy serial killer stuff in his bedroom and he knows something about the original crimes that no one else does. If he comes to the house do not let him in, it’s vital he doesn’t get near Freya and it’s possible he’ll try for her again.”
“Understood. Want me to nick him if I see him?”
“If at all possible but your priority is protecting Freya.”
“Got it Sarge.”
“Good. The storm’s on its way out. I’ll call the DI. This nightmare will soon be over.”
“Thank Christ for that,” he said before hanging up.
“We need to find Adam before he gets to Freya,” Craig told Steve, slipping his phone back in his pocket. “You keep searching the room, I’ll have a word with Betty.”
“Okay.”
“Betty, Adam’s not in his room,” he said as he entered the sitting room to find her still knitting.
“Funny, he went up but I never heard him come back down.”
“I’m not surprised with that music playing. Could he have gone out without you knowing?”
“I suppose he could have gone out the back way. My hearing isn’t what it was.”
“He’s certainly interested in serial killers, isn’t he?”
“I know, it’s really quite morbid. I always encouraged him to find he
althier pursuits like stamp collecting or bird watching, but if it didn’t involve blood and guts he wasn’t interested. He’s been like that since he was a bairn.”
“Why do you think that is?” he said, trying to sound casual.
“I blame the television, all those violent programmes. He was always questioning me about The Elemental Murders, I mean the original ones. He was only wee when it happened, he doesn’t remember it.”
“And what did you tell him?” he said, wondering if Adam’s knowledge about the alleged first victim came from her.
“Just what happened and about poor little Freya. No one else believed her about Father Logan but I did.”
“Why?”
“That man had a dark side. Do you know he believed in witches?”
“No,” he replied, thinking of the books he’d found.
“You probably don’t remember but before my eyesight went I ran the library at West Kilbride. He was always asking me to order in bizarre books, I couldn’t even read some of the titles because they were in Latin. I used to dread it when he handed over another request. He arranged for a few speakers to come to the Community Centre claiming it was of local historical interest. Funny how that interest was always about witches. He once asked me if I believed in them. When I said no he told me he did, that they existed right here and now and were making him do bad things. I told him he was ‘aff his heid. He didn’t appreciate that and tried to give me one of his lectures. He soon stopped when I said the Archbishop wouldn’t approve if he found out what he liked to read. Never had a civil word for me after that, always tried to intimidate me with his big staring eyes but I was never afraid of him. Unlike everyone else I thought he was ridiculous. Your dad came to see me one night a few days after poor Rose Macalister died and I told him about that strange conversation with Father Logan. He said he thought Logan was having an affair with Rose then swore me to secrecy. I haven’t told anyone that in fifteen years, I always keep my promises, but I think Pete wouldn’t mind me telling you.”
Craig smiled. “I’m sure he wouldn’t.”
“We came to the conclusion that Father Logan thought every woman he’d been sexually attracted to was a witch, casting a spell on him to make him stray from the path of God, it was his way of atoning for his sin.”
The Elemental (Blair Dubh Trilogy #1) Page 22