Stranglehold

by Rena George

  Nick was frowning at him. 'We're not all bagpipes and tartan shortbread tins up here, you know. Inverness is probably the fastest growing city in Scotland.'

  A slow smile spread across Drummond's face. He was being put in his place and Nick Rougvie was probably right. Most Glaswegians regarded the Highlands as a place for the tourists, somewhere to go skiing in the winter and drive around checking out the scenery for the rest of the time. If he was going to get on with this Highlander, he'd have to ditch the notion that locals were simple folks who spoke with a quaint lilt and lived in remote croft houses like the gillies and shepherds.

  He was beginning to accept that most Highlanders didn't live like this. This man, Nick Rougvie proved that. From the short time he'd so far spent in the man's company he'd got the impression he was nobody's fool.

  Drummond put his hands up in a mock gesture of self-defence. 'Sorry,' he said, beckoning the barman over to replenish their glasses. But Nick put his hand over his. 'Not for me, thanks. I have to get off.'

  'Not even another quick one?' Drummond was using his most persuasive voice. 'I'd appreciate a bit more background on Emily Ross.' He could see Nick was relenting.

  'Well, just the one, although I'm not sure what else I can tell you.'

  Their glasses were filled and both men took a swig. Nick wiped the foam from his mouth. 'I would have done more nosing around if I'd known you were investigating these murders.'

  Drummond said nothing. The link to Inverness was so tenuous there hadn't seemed much point in involving the local plods. But he wasn't so sure now.

  'What would you do, Nick, if you were investigating this family?'

  Nick raised an eyebrow. 'Are you thinking they might be involved?'

  Drummond shrugged. 'We can't rule anything out, but no, I have no reason to suspect the family. It would just be helpful to know more about what drove Emily away from home.'

  'Maybe she was being bullied at school?' Nick offered.

  It was a possibility, but Drummond didn't think so. Since Emily Ross and Evie were the same girl, he knew she could give as good as she got.

  'Or a boyfriend,' Nick continued. 'What if she was running away from a bad relationship?'

  Drummond thought about that. He supposed it was possible. But would a failed romance turn a seventeen-year-old girl to drugs and prostitution? He turned back to Nick. 'What can you tell me about this school Emily went to? Does it have a drugs problem?'

  Nick pulled a face. 'Nothing special that's come to our notice. That doesn't mean it's not happening. Why do you ask?'

  Drummond sighed. He'd been wondering how much to share with the man, but he'd quickly decided he could be trusted. 'The girl we knew as Evie had a drug problem…a serious drug problem.' He didn't mention he'd been trying to help her overcome it.

  'I see what you mean,' Nick said. 'Our girl was probably on drugs before she left home.' He looked up. 'Maybe that's your answer. She probably thought it would be easier to follow her habit if she moved to the big city. Or she could just have been desperate to hide her drug taking from her parents.'

  Drummond nodded. He would no doubt discover more once he'd interviewed the family. He wasn't looking forward to it.

  Nick finished the dregs of his pint with an eye on the clock. 'I really do have to go this time.' He produced his card. 'This is my number. Ring me if there's any more I can do.'

  Drummond took the card and nodded as Nick left the pub. He wondered vaguely what the man had to rush off for. There was probably a hot meal and a loyal wife and family waiting for him. It wasn't often that he felt he was missing out on a family life. The only thing waiting for him was a solitary takeaway fish supper and probably several more pints and a few too many whiskies.

  Seventeen

  No police officer enjoys making the death call and Drummond was definitely convinced this is what it was. The girl he'd known as Evie Walker was Emily Ross. He had to share the grim news of her murder with her family.

  There was a faded prettiness about the middle-aged woman who opened the door and gave him a questioning smile. Drummond produced his warrant card. 'I'm DI Drummond. Are you Mrs McLeod?'

  The woman nodded. 'Rachel McLeod, yes.' He saw the flash of hope spring into her eyes as her hand went protectively to her bulging stomach. 'Is it Emily?' She searched his face. 'Have you found her?' A child's cry came from somewhere inside the house and the woman cast an anxious glance back.

  'Could we step inside for a moment?' Drummond said gently, his eyes falling to the bump. This was going to be even more traumatic than he'd imagined. He should have brought Rougvie with him. Somehow, he knew the man would deal with this better than him. Drummond was more effective with his fists than dealing with the emotions of bereaved families.

  Rachel led him into a spacious back room where two identical-looking toddlers glanced up from the multi-coloured bricks they were constructing into a wobbly tower and stared at him with interest. Another younger child was sitting in a wooden playpen yelling its head off. The woman stooped to scoop the child up. 'There, there, Archie,' she soothed, cradling him close as she lowered herself onto the sofa. There was excitement in her voice. 'You have news about Emily?'

  Drummond's glance went around the room. 'Is your husband here, Mrs McLeod?' Rachel shook her head. 'You've found her, haven't you?' she said, her eyes glued to his face. 'Where is she? Is she coming home?'

  Drummond swallowed. He'd already seen the framed school photo on the mantlepiece. It was Evie. There was no way he could sugar-coat this pill. 'We've found a body, Mrs McLeod,' he began. 'The body of a young woman…in Glasgow.'

  He saw the fear flash into the woman's eyes. 'It's not Emily?' She stared at him, her voice rising. 'Tell me it's not Emily!'

  'We haven't had an official identity.' His eyes went back to the photo. 'Is that your daughter, Mrs McLeod?'

  Rachel's glance flew to the mantlepiece and back to Drummond, her eyes pleading. 'Please don't tell me Emily's dead.' She was shaking her head. 'She isn't dead!'

  Drummond resisted the urge to look away, to glance anywhere other than into the face of this distressed woman.

  'Look, can I call someone for you?' he said. 'You shouldn't be here on your own with the children. I can get one of your neighbours to come in.'

  'Our childminder, Mandy next door.' Her voice was so distant Drummond could barely make out the words. 'She'll be wondering why we're late.'

  'I'll ask her to collect the children,' Drummond said, but as he turned to leave the room the doorbell rang. He glanced back at Rachel, but she didn't appear to have heard it. She was still nursing the child and staring vacantly into space.

  The caller had apparently let themselves in, for he could hear the front door opening and closing.

  'Only me, Rachel,' a voice called from the hall. 'Is everything OK?' The woman came into the room and stopped, staring in surprise at Drummond. 'Sorry, I didn't realize you had a visitor.'

  Rachel turned huge, confused eyes on the woman. 'They've found her, Mandy. They've found Emily.' Her voice broke. 'She's dead!'

  'No!' The woman's shocked stare went from one to the other. She rushed forward and gathered Rachel and her child into her arms. 'What happened?' She shot Drummond a shocked look.

  'They found her in Glasgow,' Rachel interrupted, her voice trembling.

  Mandy was shaking her head in disbelief. 'I don't think the children should be here. Let me take them next door.' She gently eased the child from Rachel's arms.

  'Can I help?' Drummond asked, stepping forward.

  'No, we'll be fine.' She smiled down at the twins. 'Come on, Logan…you too, Daniel. Let's go next door and play some more.' The idea obviously appealed to the twins for they scrambled to their feet and toddled after the childminder.

  Rachel was still in a daze as she stared across the room, a fistful of tissues in her hand.

  'Her husband should be here,' Mandy said quietly to Drummond as she passed. She nodded to the mobile phone by the bo
ok case in the corner. 'Angus's number will be on it.' She cast a worried look back to Rachel. 'He probably won't like being disturbed at work, but that's his problem.'

  Drummond took a couple of strides across the room and picked up the phone as Mandy shepherded the children out. Angus was the first name he found on the list of contacts. He tapped the number and it was answered immediately. An irritated voice was barking at him, 'I've told you not to disturb me at work, Rachel.'

  'This is DI Drummond, sir. I'm a police officer. I think you need to come home.'

  'What? Why? What's happened?' The man was still sounding more irritated than concerned. 'Has something happened to the children?'

  'Your wife and children are all fine,' Drummond said. 'I'll explain the rest when you get here.' He disengaged the call and turned back to Rachel. She was pacing the room.

  'How did Emily die? Was it an accident?' Her voice sounded distant.

  Drummond hesitated, trying to find the least shocking way of telling her, but there was none. 'We'll know more once the post-mortem has taken place.' He cleared his throat. 'But we don't believe she died from natural causes.'

  'Suicide?' Rachel's horrified eyes bored into him as she rose and faced up to him. 'Are you saying Emily took her own life?'

  'We don't think so.'

  'Not suicide, then what?' Rachel cried, her voice rising. Her eyes flew wide. 'You think Emily was murdered, don't you?'

  Drummond caught her as her legs gave way and he guided her back onto the sofa. She sat there, staring at some distant spot across the room. Drummond watched her, not sure what to do. To his surprise, Rachel squared her shoulders and stood up again.

  'I'll make some tea,' she said. 'Angus will want tea.'

  Drummond frowned. Grief and shock affected people in different ways. Making tea for her husband was probably her coping mechanism. He still felt a flash of dislike for the man even though he'd never met him.

  He followed her into the kitchen. 'Can I help?' There was no response. She was moving around the kitchen like a robot, filling the kettle, putting tea things on a tray – and then stopped, a soft, faraway smile on her face.

  'I used to make her a mug of hot chocolate when she came home from school. We'd sit here at this table and she would tell me about her day.' She looked across at Drummond. 'Emily loved school. She played the fiddle in the school orchestra.' Rachel's expression darkened. 'Then everything changed,' she said, her voice almost a whisper as though she was talking to herself. 'Emily would go straight to her room when she came home. She wouldn't talk to me. I knew something was wrong, but it was like I couldn't reach her anymore.'

  The kettle boiled and switched itself off, but Rachel didn't notice. She was in another place. 'I let her down,' she said slowly. 'This is all my fault. I should have tried harder.'

  'I don't believe for a minute that it was your fault Emily left home. You can't blame yourself,' Drummond said.

  'Why not?' She swung round to stare at him. 'I'm her mother. It's my job to know what's going on with my children.'

  The front door opened and slammed closed again. Drummond heard the footsteps in the hall. 'Rachel?' The man's shout was urgent.

  Rachel blinked and brushed away sudden tears. 'We're in here, Angus.'

  The man who came into the kitchen wore the same smart suit he'd been in when Drummond saw him arrive home the previous night. The glare he flashed to Drummond, as he put an arm around Rachel, was accusing. 'You've upset my wife.'

  Rachel raised huge shocked eyes to her husband. 'They've found Emily, Angus.' Her voice was shaking. 'She's dead!'

  Angus McLeod's frown went to Drummond. 'Is this true?'

  'We've found a body, sir. We believe it might be your daughter.' He held the man's eyes.

  'Emily was my wife's daughter, Inspector, my stepdaughter. Where was she found?'

  Drummond blinked. It wasn't the response he'd expected. Why would the man ask that and not how the girl had died? 'I've come from Glasgow, sir,' he said. 'That's where we found her.'

  'Glasgow? What was she doing there?'

  'That's what we need to find out. Do you work locally, Mr McLeod?'

  'What?' He sounded distracted. 'Yes, in the town centre. Alba Bank. I'm the manager.'

  'They think Emily was murdered, Angus.' Rachel's voice was trembling.

  Angus McLeod frowned. 'Murdered? Why would anyone murder Emily?'

  'I can't confirm Emily was murdered. We're still investigating her death,' Drummond said, meeting the man's eyes. 'When did she leave home?'

  Angus McLeod went back to his wife's side and put a protective arm around her again. 'We don't know, Inspector. She'd been acting oddly before she went away.'

  'Oddly?' Drummond repeated. 'In what way?'

  'She spent a lot of her time in her room,' Rachel said. 'It wasn't at all like her. She always chatted away with me when she came home from school. I looked forward to our little chats. When she stopped doing that, I thought it was something I'd done. She said it wasn't and that she was fine, but she wasn't.'

  'We suspected she was being bullied at school,' Angus McLeod broke in.

  A picture of the defiant, spirited young woman he'd known as Evie came into Drummond's mind. She was the last person he felt who would have allowed herself to be bullied. But then the girl in the photograph didn't look like someone who would swap a comfortable life here in Inverness with a family who loved her for the unforgiving streets of Glasgow's red-light district.

  'Did you ever suspect Emily was taking drugs?'

  Rachel's eyes flew open. 'Drugs? No!' She was enraged. 'Emily didn't take drugs! Why would you suggest such a thing?'

  'Yes, why, Inspector?' McLeod demanded, his brow wrinkling. 'Is that how she died? First you tell my wife our daughter was murdered and now you're suggesting she took an overdose?' He moved closer to Drummond, a hint of threat in his stare. 'Are you telling us Emily committed suicide now?'

  Drummond put up a hand to calm the man. 'That's not what we're saying, sir. We have to check every possibility.'

  The man turned his back on them. Drummond could see his shoulders shaking. Rachel put up a hand to touch her husband's arm. 'They'll need us to identify Emily,' she said softly.

  Angus nodded.

  'I can take you to Glasgow today if it helps,' Drummond offered.

  Angus McLeod shook his head. 'That won't be necessary but thank you. We have the car. Just tell us where to go.'

  Eighteen

  Drummond knew he was in for a roasting from Joey Buchan next day as soon as he arrived back in the incident room.

  'Good of you to join us, Inspector Drummond.' She had interrupted the morning briefing to throw him a sarcastic smile.

  Drummond responded with a hard stare. What was she talking about? He'd almost broken his neck rising at dawn and leaving the Riverside Inn without the breakfast he'd paid for to get here this early.

  Joey raised an eyebrow and he wondered if she'd regretted the narky comment. Not that he was all that bothered what she thought. He was here for the McLeods, but mainly Rachel McLeod. Her distress yesterday had got to him. He'd accompanied many relatives to the mortuary to identify their loved ones. Why was this one going to be any different?

  The McLeods must have left Inverness shortly after him for he'd just been told they were waiting for him down in reception. If anything, Rachel loo0ked even paler than yesterday. Her dark eyes sparkled with unshed tears and her hair had been drawn back from her face. Drummond could see she was desperately trying to hold herself together.

  'Can we do this now?' Angus McLeod said abruptly. 'We have to get back for the children.'

  Rachel was staring at the floor.

  'Of course,' Drummond said. He'd beckoned Gail Swann to accompany them. 'We can take my car. It's not far.'

  Rachel McLeod drew back, her face deadly pale as they approached the mortuary door. 'I can't do it,' she said. 'I can't go in there.'

  Angus put a hand on her shoulder. 'Let me, Rac
hel. You don't have to put yourself through this. That's what I'm here for.'

  Drummond turned to hide a frown. It seemed all too clinical between this couple. Why couldn't the man see his wife needed a hug, not a hand on her shoulder? It didn't take a lot of imagination to understand how Rachel would be feeling right now. Drummond was having enough trouble dealing with his own feelings. He should have made a better job of looking out for Evie. The weight of guilt still sat heavily in the pit of his stomach.

  He shot Gail a look and she nodded in response, moving to the distressed woman's side. 'We can wait here,' she said gently, guiding Rachel to one of the chairs in the corridor.

  As Drummond led Angus into the mortuary, the man turned back to his wife. 'Courage, my love. Remember the whole congregation is praying for us.'

  Rachel lifted her tear-stained face and nodded, but it was clear she took no comfort from the words.

  Evie's body – Drummond was still having trouble thinking of her as Emily – lay under a sheet. At his nod a member of the mortuary staff lifted the sheet from her face. Viewing bodies was nothing new to Drummond, but he felt himself wincing as he glanced down at the girl. He looked away quickly, reminding himself he was here to study Angus McLeod's reaction to seeing the body of his dead stepdaughter. Until they caught this killer, everyone was a suspect.

  Drummond wasn't sure what he'd been expecting from the man, certainly not what was happening now. Angus McLeod was sobbing, loud uncontrollable sobs. He turned away, his shoulders heaving.

  Drummond swallowed. 'The death of a loved one affects everyone differently,' he said, not sure if he was expected to comfort the man. He didn't feel inclined to offer more than words. He was wondering how Rachel would have felt if she had witnessed this.

  'It's just the shock,' Angus McLeod said. 'She looks so perfect lying there.'

  Drummond thought the girl looked far from perfect. She had the haggard pale look of an addict and the angry dark bruises on her neck were more than obvious now.