by Molly Macrae
“You can read.” Lynsey brought out her phone and jabbed it on with a finger. “When he wasn’t home for tea, I texted the charge nurse and another district nurse, Isla. You’ve met her. There.” She handed the phone to Christine. “Tracey’s the charge nurse.”
“The first question is yours?” Christine asked.
“Aye.”
Christine looked at Janet and Tallie. “I’ll read them out, shall I?”
Lynsey: seen lachy?
Tracey: saw before he left for ardtoe. out of range? lo batt?
Isla: that appt phoned. he was no show
Tracey: news to me
Lynsey: that’s not like him. what about other appts?
Tracey: checking schedule. made his a.m. appts. other p.m. appts cancelled.
Lynsey: then where is he?
Tracey: lucky lachy free afternoon. whoop whoop?
Isla: dinnae fash. he’s lachlann mòr. too big to go missing. he’ll show up
Tracey: dinnae fash
“And that’s the last I heard from anyone,” Lynsey said. “And that’s what they all say. As if dinnae fash ever did anyone any good.”
“Does Lachy ever ‘whoop whoop’? I’m not even sure what I’m asking,” Janet said.
“I’m not sure Lachy would know, either. An evening at Nev’s is about as far whoop as he goes, and that not often. He takes his job seriously, and with all the driving, it wouldn’t do.”
“How long since you heard from him?” Janet asked.
“When he went out the door this morning. I expected him home three hours ago. And really, this isn’t like him. So I waited and I tried not to worry. But then I couldn’t wait any longer.”
“What did you do?” Tallie asked.
“I contacted Lachy’s da and his mate Brian to see did they know anything. Brian said he’d go out along the route Lachy would take to Ardtoe, see if he’d car trouble. It’s a long way to go, but he’s a good mate. He found nothing. And Lachy’s da only asked did I know what was bothering Lachy. Thinks he’s a great psychiatrist. Then I sent a text to Constable Hobbs. Lot of good that did. ‘Sorry to hear that,’ he said. Great eejit.”
“No doubt Constable Hobbs was involved in something that took his full attention and he missed the urgency of the situation,” Christine said.
“Is Lachy’s dad a psychiatrist?” Tallie asked.
“He’s a plumber.”
“Sometimes the same thing,” Christine said.
“Why have you come to us?” Janet asked. “Apart from what Rhona said at Nev’s. What do you hope we can do?”
Lynsey shrank into herself and shook her head. The kitten had abandoned her and gone to curl up with Smirr. Tallie took a knitted throw from the back of her chair and tucked it around Lynsey.
“Would you like a cuppa now?” Tallie asked. “Or a glass of sherry?”
Lynsey shook her head again.
“You said something at Nev’s, too,” Janet said. “Do you remember? We were talking about Malcolm Murray, and you said, ‘I said it would happen.’ What did you mean?”
“I told Lachy.”
“Told him what?” Janet pressed.
“Just that. I said it would happen. He believed me. He always does. He didn’t want me to go on the ride. But it wasn’t me who had to worry. I told Lachy that, too, and I stayed well away from Malcolm.”
Janet felt the hair stand up on her arms.
“Did you know how it would happen?” Tallie asked.
“No, thank heaven. Can you imagine knowing a thing like that?”
“Do you always know when something like that is going to happen?” Christine asked.
“Again, thank heaven, no.”
“Well,” Janet said, stirring herself. “Let’s be practical now, and we’ll try to work through this puzzle. To be completely practical, we probably can’t do much outside in the dark tonight. Not immediately anyway, but we can start with more questions. Is that all right?”
“Aye.”
“Not to worry you unduly,” Christine said, “but have you called hospitals?”
“No. People at area hospitals know him. I’d have heard.”
“We should phone anyway,” Janet said. “But the questions first, and with very good luck, before we’re finished, you’ll have heard from him. A list would be good so we can keep track of everything we cover. Tallie?”
“Pen and paper coming up.” Tallie went into the kitchen and came back with a notebook and pen. “Is a list okay, Lynsey? It might be upsetting.”
“Can you imagine what’s already been running through my head? Here’s part of it. You can start the list with these: phone died, car died, he died.”
“From benign to horrifying in six words,” Tallie said.
“Aye. So whatever else you put on it, this list can’t be much worse than that. You can add he ran off on his own or with someone, but I don’t believe that one at all.”
Tallie added “ran off” to the list anyway. With suggestions from each of them, the list grew:
Phone died
Car died
He died
Ran off
Still with a patient, unable to phone
Car trouble on side road or farm track, unable to phone
Went off road, can’t be seen, unable to phone
Health crisis, unable to phone
In hospital, unrecognized, no ID, unable to phone
Met up with friends, unable to phone
Fell asleep at a movie
Took a hike, fell, unable to phone
Kidnapped
Held captive by patient
“Let me see it,” Lynsey said. Tallie handed it to her and they watched her read it over. She flicked it with a finger when she’d finished. “These two—movies or a hike—they don’t sound like my Lachy. Still with a patient is more like him.”
“Could that be what’s happened?” Janet asked.
“Of all of these, that’s what I want it to be. He’s that committed to the job. But after all this time? All afternoon and evening? I reckon it’s possible, and I still like that better than the other. These last two make me laugh, but.”
“That was partly my intention in adding them,” Christine said. “Mind, truth is sometimes stranger than fiction.”
“You’ve not met him, have you?” Lynsey’s eyes lit up in a way they hadn’t since she’d arrived. “He’s Lachlann Mòr. Have you ever been to the games? He’s champion at all the heavy events—caber, stone, sheaf. Kidnap Lachlann Mòr? I’d like to see the numpty who’d try.” She thought for a moment and then asked Tallie to add something else to the list. “Attacked by gang.”
“Does he know gangs?” Christine asked.
“He’s a nurse. He carries medications. They might know him.”
“When was the last time you tried texting or calling him?” Tallie asked.
“Just before I knocked on your door. In case I could turn my bike round and ride back home and find him there. I left another message, too. He’ll think I’ve gone mental if he gets them all.”
“He’ll thank you for your worries,” Janet said. “But you rode here in the dark?”
“We’ve only the one car.” Lynsey picked up her phone from where it lay next to her on the couch. She swiped and tapped the screen, held it to her ear. “Ringing, ringing, ringing.” She let the phone drop to her lap and hugged herself.
“Where was he last seen?” Tallie asked. “Where was his last appointment?”
“I dinnae ken. Before he left this morning, he said something about a visit on Achnamuck.”
“We’ve heard that name recently.” Christine looked at Janet.
“When you were asking about the Mull Eigg Road the other morning,” Janet said. She felt funny being secretive about the circumstances of that discussion with Hobbs, but also didn’t want to get sidetracked.
“I remember,” Christine said. “I can’t say I’m familiar with the place, though. Where is Achnamuck?”
&nb
sp; “Not a place,” Lynsey said. “A road. Out of the way for traveling on to Ardtoe, if that’s where he was going next. That’s the way the job is, though. Lachy didn’t mind.”
Janet wondered if Lynsey realized she’d just said didn’t instead of doesn’t. And what did that mean? Christine was looking at Janet. She’d noticed the slip, too.
A knock came at the back door, and Janet nearly shot straight up to the ceiling.
“What’s Ian Atkinson doing here?” Lynsey asked.
The others stared at her, and Janet felt the hair on her arms rise for the second time that night. “How do you know it’s Ian?” she asked.
Lynsey pointed. “There’s a gap in your curtains there. He’s looking in. He just waved.” She waved back. “He knows Lachy. He was kind when he came and interviewed him for one of his books.”
“Ian?” Christine said.
“Aye. About veterans and the problems of suicide. Some of Lachy’s patients are vets.”
“I keep forgetting Ian’s only an ass in real life,” Christine said. “Get him behind a pen or a typewriter and the man has a brain in his head.”
“Maybe he’s heard something,” Lynsey said. “Shall I let him in?”
Tallie got up. “I’ll go. I’ll bring him up to speed so you don’t have to go through it all again.” As she passed Janet—with her back to Lynsey—she growled a whisper through clenched teeth, “I’ll warn him not to spill about Norman being here.”
They heard Tallie open the back door and Ian’s greeting, but over the top of him they heard Tallie. “Oh my gosh, the stars! Ian, come on, you have to see. They’re astounding!”
They heard confused noises from Ian and the back door close. Janet pictured how Tallie must have grabbed his arm to drag him back outside for a rundown on the situation with Lachy and a fierce warning not to mention Hobbs’s visit. She also thought Tallie had leaned on the first syllable of astounding with more force than strictly necessary, but with obvious satisfaction.
The back door opened again and a slightly wary Ian followed Tallie into the living room. But he rallied at the sight of Lynsey, and the bestselling novelist, who yet saw himself as a leading man, went to her with his hands out to take both of hers, and with a catch in his voice, said:
“Linda, my dear, I saw you arrive on your bicycle, and I would have been over sooner, but I had something in the oven. How are you holding up? We’ll hope for the best rather than the worst, shall we?”
The cats, either reacting to the approach of Ian’s hands, the catch in his voice, or the cologne he’d used rather liberally, left the couch and slunk from the room. Lynsey reacted the way a young woman under a great deal of stress and faced with sudden, smarmy, tone-deaf solicitude might be expected to. She fell apart. Ian froze, alarm on his face, then shrank back, and Janet found herself feeling sorrier for him than Lynsey. The tears would do Lynsey good, but Ian’s leading man visions must not have factored in being faced with the raw emotions of real life.
“Sit here, Ian. Take my chair.” Janet got up and shooed him toward it.
“But what did I do?” he whined. “Was it something I said?”
“For starters, her name is Lynsey, not Linda.”
“Is it?”
“Yes, Ian. And she thought, hoped, you might have heard something helpful about her husband. If you hadn’t mentioned ‘the worst,’ you might have helped. She’ll be all right, though. She’ll settle down. She’s strong and Christine knows what she’s doing.”
Christine had scooted across the couch. Lynsey now sat with her head on Christine’s shoulder. Tallie had brought her a box of tissues.
Janet’s sympathy for Ian trickled away with his continued clueless gaping. With the last of her goodwill, she finally got him to sit. “It’s the most comfortable chair in the house. And it’ll be best if you don’t say anything more, don’t you think? You can observe and Lynsey will appreciate the support of your continued presence.” Having run her reservoir of sympathy dry, Janet leaned close and cowed him further with a reminder. “Not a word about seeing Constable Hobbs here earlier or you’re out the door. Got it?”
Ian mimed zipping his lips. He resettled the shoulders of his camel jacket with a couple of shrugs, tugged his sleeves and cuffs into place, flipped lank hair from his forehead, and crossed his legs—and he’d made a complete return to authorial elegance. Janet would have laughed but for the circumstances.
Tallie gave Janet her chair and sat on an ottoman. Christine had made good progress calming Lynsey—speaking quietly, letting the tears finish, and then letting her pull herself together. When Lynsey was ready to talk, Christine scooted back to her place again to give Lynsey space.
“What now?” Lynsey asked after wiping her nose one last time.
“Have you tried contacting Isla or the charge nurse again?” Janet asked.
“I told you. The texts were the last I heard from them.”
“You did tell us that, but have you tried contacting them again?” Janet asked.
“Or are there other nurses who might know something?” Tallie asked.
“Not Isla. I left a message for Tracey.”
“You haven’t tried Isla or you don’t think she’ll be able to help beyond ‘dinnae fash’?” Christine asked.
“Aye, that’s about right.”
“Which one?”
“Both.” Lynsey looked at her phone again, put it down, and clutched the top of her head.
“Is Lachy’s dad right about something bothering him?” Tallie asked.
Lynsey’s hands moved from the top of her head to her cheeks. She spoke to her lap. “Lachy’s conscientious. He cares for his patients. Above and beyond. He’s the best thing that’s happened to some of them in years.”
Which either is or isn’t an answer, Janet thought.
“You said some of his patients are veterans,” Tallie said. “Is one of them Gerald Murray?”
“He takes their privacy seriously,” Lynsey said. “I know a few. It can’t be helped. But I’m not sure I should tell you who they are.”
“At a time like this, it might make a difference. Gerald is a vet. He just lost his brother. If he were having a bad time, would Lachy stay with him, help him through?”
“But why wouldn’t he let me know? Or answer a text or call? Or let Tracey know there’s some kind of emergency?”
“You know him better that we do,” Christine said. “Better than anyone. Maybe he’s there and hoping you’ll understand. Is that a possibility? If not with Gerald, maybe another patient?”
“What’s Gerald like?” Lynsey asked. “I saw him come into Nev’s, but I don’t know him.”
“If I may?” Ian asked quietly. “Gerald Murray is a fine man. I’m glad to know him. If he needs help, and if that’s where Lachlann is, then they’re both in good hands.”
“Thank you for that,” Lynsey said.
“I think,” Janet said, “that we’ve come to a point where there’s not much more we can do this evening—except call Constable Hobbs again.”
Lynsey nodded.
“There is one thing, though,” Janet said. “This might sound rather odd, but did Malcolm Murray carry anything with him during the ride on Sunday, or at any other time, that someone else would want? That someone would take or look for?”
“I told you. I stayed away from him during the ride.”
Bagpipes started playing “Flower of Scotland” on the phone in her lap. Everyone but Lynsey jumped. She stared at it.
“It’s not Lachy. Not his ringtone.”
“Go on and answer it,” Christine said. “Or shall I?”
Lynsey picked it up and answered and then put a hand over it and whispered, “It’s Constable Hobbs.” She put the phone back to her ear. “Sorry, aye. Can you not wait there? I can be home in ten minutes.” She listened and then disconnected, looking confused. “He said not to bother. Then he rang off.”
Immediately after, someone gave the wolf’s head at the front door
three banging knocks. Before anyone could get up to answer, they heard the door open and a familiar constabularial tread. At the sound of a second set of feet, Janet felt a flood of relief—Lachlann Mòr. But wouldn’t he have phoned himself?
She looked at Lynsey, expecting to see hope there, too, maybe spilling over into relieved tears, but then Norman Hobbs stepped into the room. Janet had only a moment to register his somber face before he moved aside and she saw the man with parade ground posture behind him—Inspector Reddick.
Janet, Tallie, and Christine knew Reddick and liked him. He was quiet, personable, and the dark circles under his eyes were a testament to his professional dedication. He was also a member of a Major Investigation Team from the Specialist Crime Division of Police Scotland. Whether Lynsey knew it or not, Reddick’s presence shut down most avenues of hope for a happy reunion with her husband.
“Good evening. We’re sorry to intrude,” Reddick said. He held up a leather wallet with his warrant card. “Are you Mrs. Maclennan?” he asked Lynsey. “I’m Inspector Reddick. I believe you know Constable Hobbs. We’d like a word in private. Would you like to come with us?”
“No.” Lynsey’s anguished syllable clearly wasn’t directed at either Reddick or Hobbs. She turned her face away from them, drew her legs up, pulled her knees to her chest and started rocking. “No, no, no, no, no, no, no.”
“Whatever news you’ve brought, she needs someone to lean on.” Christine moved over again and put her arm around Lynsey.
“Mrs. Maclennan, can we call anyone for you?” Reddick asked.
Lynsey burrowed into Christine. Christine wrapped the throw around Lynsey’s shoulders and stroked her back. “You’ll get through this, hen. We dinnae ken what it is, though, do we?” To Reddick, she said, “You need to tell her.”
Hobbs went through to the kitchen and brought back a chair. Perhaps he and Reddick had made a plan before arriving. They exchanged slight nods and then Reddick stepped back. Hobbs placed the chair in front of Lynsey and sat so that if she let her knees go, they might have touched his. He leaned forward with his elbows on his knees and his chin resting on his fists, and waited for a moment before speaking.