Her Missing Child

by Kerry Watts

  Jessie was struck by the calmness of his tone.

  ‘OK, I won’t, if that’s what you want,’ she replied, and pulled her gloves from her pocket to warm her icy-cold hands. ‘But could you bring your legs back over, Darren, so we can talk? It’s going to be difficult to have a proper talk at this distance if you’re facing away from me. Especially in this wind.’

  Darren stared down into the raging current below. It would be so easy to just lean forward and let go. As soon as he was swallowed into her icy grip, then all the pain would be gone. All of his mistakes would be paid for. Claire had her parents to take care of her, and they would take good care of her, despite what they’d done. They loved their daughter. She even had Theresa to support her, and of course Dianne. Darren owed Dianne so much for what she’d done these past few months. He was sorry he’d got so angry when the police took her in to question her, but he was hurting and scared, not knowing what had happened to Finlay. Finlay, his precious boy. The police had told him he hadn’t suffered, but that wasn’t true. That lie ate Darren up inside. The pain was physical. He’d even blamed Claire. How could he do that to her? She didn’t deserve that. But the truth? The agony of the truth was too much to bear, and it was all his fault. Finlay died because of his sordid, secret, stolen moments with Maggie. She was so still when he left her lying there. What if he’d killed her and her baby? That baby would be another innocent victim.

  ‘Maggie is going to be fine,’ Jessie explained. ‘She’s going to be sore for a while, but she’s OK, Darren.’

  Darren turned to face her. ‘And the baby?’

  ‘I’m sorry, I don’t know anything about her baby, but Calum is with her.’ Jessie paused as she watched him turn away and stare back down to the water below. Her stomach lurched. ‘You don’t have to do this. Please – come back over this side.’ Jessie exhaled. ‘I can see you’re hurting, and I want to help you.’ She paused. ‘You and Claire.’

  Darren spoke without turning back this time. ‘Where is Claire?’

  ‘She’s still at the station answering some questions, but I can take you to her. Please, Darren, I can help you.’

  ‘Claire didn’t do anything, DI Blake.’

  ‘OK.’ Jessie’s heart almost stopped with fright when Darren shuffled forward. She stretched her arms out in front of her and her body ran cold. ‘Please, Darren, don’t do this. Claire needs you. Your dad needs you – please.’

  ‘Claire will never forgive me.’ Darren shook his head then rubbed his palm roughly over his eyes to rub away the tears. ‘And I can’t blame her. What I did was...’ He dropped his head into his hands as he teetered on the edge. ‘I am so sorry. Tell her I am so sorry.’

  Jessie was horrified as he shuffled further forward.

  ‘Darren! No! Move back. Let’s talk. You don’t have to do this.’

  ‘I can’t expect forgiveness for this, for causing all this.’

  ‘Of course she’ll forgive you. It might take time. Whatever it is, Claire loves you.’ Jessie pleaded with him. ‘Come on – please. Come back over this side.’

  A huge gust of wind ripped through Jessie, chilling her to the bone.

  ‘Not this, she won’t. She can’t. My weakness caused all this suffering, and this is the right thing to do. An eye for an eye.’

  Jessie thought her heart would stop when she saw him move again. Darren was now standing on the outside of the footpath that ran along the vast structure, barely holding on with one hand.

  ‘No, Darren. Nothing is unforgivable.’ Jessie searched desperately for the right thing to say. Then she just blurted it out. ‘I’ve lost a son. A long time ago. I know the pain you’re going through.’

  Jessie’s words seemed to hit Darren hard. He glanced at her, frowning. ‘I’m sorry, I didn’t know that.’

  ‘Yes, it’s still hard some days to think of Ryan.’ Jessie could feel tears straining to burst out, but this was not the time or the place to lose control. ‘You won’t stop loving Finlay, or stop missing him, and you certainly won’t ever forget him, but we do find a way to live with our loss over time.’

  Darren’s shoulders straightened as he braced himself. Then he exhaled, turned and climbed back over the barrier.

  ‘It was Maggie,’ he whispered. ‘She killed Finlay.’

  It took Jessie a moment to process Darren’s shocking revelation, but she couldn’t dive in with questions straight away. ‘I’m sorry, Darren, but you can’t blame yourself for that. You can’t control what other people do. None of this is your fault, so please, come with me. I’ll take you back to Claire, and you can explain what happened with Maggie on the way.’

  Darren’s eyes searched Jessie’s for the help he craved. He wiped his arm across his face to clean himself up.

  ‘Thank you,’ he whimpered.

  Jessie took hold of one of his arms and smiled, then led him back towards her car.

  Watching Darren and Claire reunite brought a lump to Jessie’s throat. She wasn’t lying when she told him that she understood his grief. She understood it completely. After she’d taken Darren’s statement, she left them in an interview room to talk in private, and caught up with Dylan.

  ‘Here you go, Jess,’ Dylan handed her a mug of coffee and a Kit Kat. ‘Thought you might need a chocolate hit as well. You certainly deserve it.’

  Jessie didn’t feel like a hero. She was utterly drained, physically and mentally. Battling against the freezing temperatures hadn’t helped the situation either.

  ‘Cheers, but we can’t sit back for long. We need to get to the hospital again. I feel like I’ve never been away frae that place recently.’

  ‘I know. Maggie McBride. Bit flipping Fatal Attraction, isn’t it?’ Dylan suggested. ‘I’ve spoken to Maggie like you asked. While you were on your way back with Darren.’ He took a breath. ‘She did it. And she’s lost her baby in the attack by Darren. When she was told that she broke down again, said she was being punished for killing Finlay. She told me everything, Jess, but we’ll need to talk to her formally once she’s been discharged. She’s bruised, but nothing’s broken at least. This case. What a mess, eh? Obsession turned to murder, I guess.’

  ‘Aye, that’s one explanation, I suppose. Like you say, we need her in as soon as she’s fit to be discharged,’ Jessie added. She was too exhausted to discuss it much more.

  ‘I don’t envy the person who has to tell Maggie’s husband, and I wouldn’t want to be in Darren’s shoes when Calum finds out he’s been screwing his wife. Christ, he’s going to lose it big time. He’s a flipping big lad, too.’

  Jessie sighed. ‘Aye, well, we’ll try to avoid that, but Darren’s made his bed and will have to lie in it. With Claire, too, when she finds out, because she will have to live with it, as well. He could be telling her now. I feel so sorry for her.’

  Jessie’s mind drifted back to Father Paul McKinnon. It seemed they now knew what had happened to Finlay – smothered by Maggie, then his tiny body shaken and spirited away by a distraught, distressed Theresa. Now they had to figure out why someone thought they needed to kill Father McKinnon, and whether that had anything to do with Finlay Lucas at all.

  Ninety-One

  Jessie woke with a start. Smokey was standing on the bottom of her bed, hissing, with his back arched. She ran her hand down her soaking-wet nightshirt then through her damp hair. It was just a nightmare, she reassured herself, but it had felt so real. The images were as vivid as if they were happening in real time. The pain in her stomach felt genuine, too, and the blood. Jessie could even smell the blood when it had oozed out from her body. Dan had been standing over her, his fist clenched, with his other hand tugging on a large clump of her hair, pinching the edge of her hairline at the back of her neck. Jessie allowed her fingers to slide around to the spot, and she pressed down her hair. It wasn’t real, she repeated to herself. It wasn’t real.

  ‘Come here.’ She reached out to Smokey, who curled himself onto her chest and purred. Jessie realised she must have scr
eamed out, startling him. ‘I’m sorry, wee man.’ She pulled him closer and nestled his smooth grey fur close to her chin, inhaling his smell, letting it soothe her racing pulse. She felt his heart beat next to hers and smiled. No other living thing on this planet meant as much to Jessie as he did, and she hoped the feeling was mutual. After all, they’d been through her marriage to Dan together.

  It had been a while since she’d had a dream like that, but talking about Ryan probably triggered it. Losing Ryan was something Jessie would never get over, but she had to find a way to live with her grief, and she’d been doing fine until recently. Finlay’s death and Dan’s unwanted attention didn’t help. Dan. Why can’t he just accept that it’s over? They’d been divorced for a long time. His drunken lunge outside his cell had scared her. It was a terrifying reminder of what her life once was. If she’d stayed with him, how long would it have been before Jessie’s mother would have been burying her? Is it even me he misses, Jessie wondered, or is it having someone to control and bully?

  She was pleased to have another couple of hours before she had to get up. It was going to be a long day. The doctors had told her that Maggie McBride was lucky. Her injuries were only minor, despite the beating she clearly took. It had saddened Jessie to hear about the loss of her pregnancy. The baby might have been Calum’s, but what state their marriage was in right now Jessie didn’t know. She had court in the morning, too. It was Phil and Bridget Moran’s day before the judge, and although she’d been told they intended to plead guilty, Jessie wouldn’t believe it until she saw it with her own eyes. Theresa was yet to be assessed by the psychiatrist, so Jessie had to wait for that outcome.

  She couldn’t get back to sleep, and this time it was Father Paul McKinnon’s face that kept creeping into her mind. Not just his face, but the numerous stab wounds to his chest. She was certain Phil had claimed responsibility in the belief that he was shielding his wife, but the more she thought on it, the harder Jessie found it to believe that Bridget had killed McKinnon to keep him quiet – she knew he wouldn’t betray the sanctity of the confessional, surely. Jessie was only now truly looking past her feelings towards the bitter, unpleasant woman. Something Wilde had said jumped into Jessie’s thoughts. Why was Lisa McKinnon in such a hurry to bury her uncle? And why had she lied about how long she’d been in Scotland? That thread was hanging loose after the chaos of the previous day. Paul must have refused her the money she so desperately needed, because she’d also asked for permission to search the house for a will and apparently was not happy when told she’d have to wait. Not happy at all.

  Jessie reached for her phone and noticed an unread text from Ben. He was persistent, she’d give him that. His text had been sent at 1 a.m., and she wondered if he’d been drinking. His mistake had crushed his confidence immensely, and he wanted to remind Jessie how sorry he was – and that he was looking forward to meeting her for coffee. Jessie liked Ben. She couldn’t deny she was attracted to his tall, dark, handsome and brooding Latin looks. She didn’t text him back though, hoping he was asleep at this time. She put her phone back down and snuggled under her duvet with Smokey curled up close to her, his body warming her against the cold of her bedroom. The sound of her neighbour Dave’s motorbike drifted into her mind as she dozed. If that was him leaving for an early shift, Jessie still had another ninety minutes to snooze.

  Ninety-Two

  Jessie sat in the High Court in Perth and watched as Bridget admitted her part in concealing her grandson’s body. Jessie respected the strength it must have taken for Bridget to plead guilty, knowing her like she did. Then again, she had no choice if she wanted to avoid a lengthy custodial sentence. Jessie and Dylan didn’t wait around to find out what punishment the Morans would face. It was enough for her to know they’d pled guilty. There were no winners here. How the family was ever going to heal after such a trauma Jessie had no idea. She’d given Darren details of a counsellor for both him and Claire to use. She really hoped they could make it work. Darren wasn’t a bad person – he’d made the mistake thousands of people make all over the world every day, and he seemed genuinely sorry for it. Sorry enough to sacrifice his life, although others may have called that running away from his guilt. Leaving Claire alone in her grief. He, too, would have his day in court over the assault on Maggie.

  ‘What did you make of that?’ Dylan asked as they headed towards Jessie’s car.

  ‘I admire her for it.’

  ‘What?’ Dylan was unable to hide his surprise.

  ‘Bridget Moran.’ Jessie clarified. ‘Couldn’t have been easy, when you consider the way she is.’

  ‘Aye, but it was either that or go to jail for who knows how long,’ Dylan pointed out.

  ‘I know, but still. She knew we were sitting there watching her. She clocked me as soon as I sat down. I know how she feels about me. Poking around in her family’s business. Picking through their secrets and dirty laundry.’ Jessie waved a hand, as if dismissing Bridget Moran for now. ‘Come on, we have a date with Lisa McKinnon. She didn’t take too kindly to being refused access to her uncle’s house. She wanted to look for a will, and is extremely keen to organise a funeral – claims she needs to get back to work.’

  ‘What about Maggie McBride?’ Dylan asked. ‘What’s the score with her this morning?’

  ‘She’s being discharged later today, all being well. I called the ward early this morning. She’s being brought straight to the station.’

  ‘I’ve said it before and I’ll say it again. It’s so Fatal Attraction, isn’t it?’ Dylan scratched at his stubbly chin.

  ‘Surely you’re a bit young to remember that film?’ Jessie tapped him playfully on the arm. ‘Even I am. I was only nine when it came out.’

  Dylan grinned. ‘It’s a classic. Everyone knows that movie.’

  ‘Aye, well, this story ends in much more tragic circumstances.’

  Ninety-Three

  Jessie was surprised to be greeted in the hotel doorway by Lisa McKinnon.

  ‘I saw you through the dining room window, Detectives,’ the young woman said, evidently interpreting Jessie’s look. ‘While I was trying to have a late breakfast,’ she added pointedly.

  ‘Good morning. We have one or two more questions for you. We can talk here, or would you prefer to come to the station? It’s your choice.’

  That didn’t sound like much of a choice to Lisa, exactly. More a veiled threat.

  ‘Of course.’ She forced a smile. ‘We can talk in my room, Detective.’

  Lisa slid the key card in and invited Jessie and Dylan inside. She lifted the clothes from the chairs by the window. ‘Sorry about the mess. Please sit down. What else is it you need to know?’

  Jessie unzipped her jacket in the heat of the room. ‘Thank you. My colleague informed me that you’re very keen to get into the chapel house. Why is that?’

  Lisa perched herself on the edge of her bed and stared from Jessie to Dylan and back again, then dropped her head.

  ‘I’m not going to lie to you. I was hoping to find my uncle Paul’s will.’

  ‘I see.’ Jessie nodded. ‘I’m sorry, but the house is still an active crime scene at the moment.’

  ‘I know, I know. I don’t expect either of you to understand, but I told you about my financial difficulties. I just needed to know whether I would inherit or not.’

  Jessie was shocked at her honesty. Impressed, but shocked. ‘Like I said—’

  ‘I’ve found it, though, the will,’ Lisa added, her face serious, a single tear teetering on the edge of her eye. ‘Bishop Menzies contacted me to express his condolences, and said there was a will and he had it, or rather that it was with a solicitor for the Church.’

  Jessie knew nothing about this. ‘Have you read it yet?’

  The sombre nod of Lisa’s head told Jessie that the contents did not please her.

  ‘He’s left pretty much all of it to a homeless charity he set up a few years back, and the rest…’ She hesitated, attempting to control her t
ears. ‘I’m sorry. I guess he figured I didn’t need it.’

  ‘Don’t worry,’ Dylan tried to be sympathetic. Poor woman, he thought. Grieving and bankrupt. Can’t be easy, on top of finding out her husband-to-be had been lying to her.

  ‘Miss McKinnon, that doesn’t explain why you lied about your arrival in Scotland. We know you were here when he was killed,’ Jessie said, boldly.

  Lisa’s tears flowed more freely now. ‘I know what you both think of me,’ she continued, once she’d composed herself. ‘Yes, I came here to ask for money, and he turned me down, he said until Anders straightens himself out. Well, what Uncle Paul actually said was something like “fights the demons inside him”.’ She scoffed. ‘He said that he prays, and suggested we should pray together.’ She gave a short laugh at the memory.

  ‘I didn’t leave him on good terms – I said some things I regretted,’ she went on, unburdening herself. ‘I decided to apologise, and yes – beg once more for help, but it was too late. I went round there and there was police tape everywhere, and the neighbours talking about what had happened. I was scared someone had heard us arguing and how that would look, so I panicked and went straight to the police station, acting like I’d just arrived. It was stupid, I know. But I did not kill my uncle for his money. I’m guilty of lots of things, but murder is not one of them. I’ve already shown you my call log – I was talking to – well, pleading with – Anders on the phone, like I said. Arguing, perhaps, is more accurate. He was threatening to leave the rehab unit, you see. He says he can’t hack it. The hotel should be able to confirm I was in my room, and can’t you pinpoint my phone signal location, or something?’

  ‘It’s possible,’ Jessie said. ‘I’m sorry, but you said most of the money was left to charity. Who else benefited as a result of your uncle’s death?’

  ‘She hasn’t told you?’ Lisa said, taken aback. ‘Gertrude Laing.’