In Her Secret Fantasy (12 page)

“No, I’d make too much noise, and it’s too bloody cold.” He kissed her with his open mouth, then slid reluctantly off her to look once more at the beach.

Life, she thought, was a bit of an emotional roller coaster around Aidan. But it certainly wasn’t boring.

As spots of cold rain began to patter on her head and hands, Aidan glanced up at the grey sky. “We should go,” he said. “It’ll be dark soon.”

“Don’t you have headlights or something?” she asked flippantly.

He grinned. “Something. From that side of the island, they shouldn’t be able to see either us or the boat, but I don’t want anything to make them suspicious just yet. Come on.”

He’d just begun to wriggle back down from the ridge of the hill, when he paused and raised his binoculars again. Chrissy looked too. A man in a woolly hat and thick jacket was walking along the beach in the direction of the mostly hidden boat.

She found she was holding her breath, listening to the click of Aidan’s phone camera. Eventually, the man disappeared from view, perhaps rummaging in the boat. A few moments later, he reappeared, walking back the way he’d come, carrying something shoe-box sized in one arm.

“Bull’s eye,” Aidan murmured, taking another photograph.

“Can you see his face over this distance?”

“The camera can. Come on, that’s our lot for today.”

They slithered and slid down the grassy part of the hill. As it turned to bare rock, Aidan went first, showing the safe foot and hand holds. By the time they reached the observation post, the seals had vanished.

Aidan, who’d lifted her down the last jump as if she weighed nothing, slid one hand down her arm, over her wrist and took hold of her fingers as they began to walk down the path to the jetty. Above her, a seabird called. Aidan’s thumb stroked the side of her hand. Across the sea, the hills of the mainland stood out stark and spectacular against the red and gold setting sun.

Another of those waves of happiness washed over her. They seemed to have been happening all day.

“I thought you’d have waited to see what else they did,” she said, over the noise of the outboard motor as he guided the boat back out to sea.

“I don’t want word to get back to Ardknocken House that I’m behaving oddly. And I need to get back. Evenings are tough on Louise.”

“She’s got a lot on her plate,” Chrissy agreed.

There was silence, then, “I hate to see her struggling,” he said abruptly. “But she knows I won’t stay, and she won’t hear of a nursing home, even for Dad.”

“It’s not the only solution,” Chrissy said. “I’m presuming you’d be the one paying for the nursing home?”

Aidan nodded curtly.

“Maybe the money could be used differently,” Chrissy suggested. “A stair lift would be a start, and other accessories to let them help themselves.”

Aidan’s lips twisted. He released the wheel and sat down beside her. “That was my plan B,” he said ruefully. “It would help, but it wouldn’t free Louise from the babysitting. I know neighbours offer to help, but she refuses nearly everyone. Including the doctor—who’s old-fashioned anyway and probably sees no good reason why Louise shouldn’t lose her youth caring for our parents. Some of it’s pride with Louise, but not just her own. She’s protecting
them
.”

Chrissy nodded slowly. Although she hadn’t really considered Louise’s plight very deeply until this New Year, she’d come to similar conclusions.

“Even out here in the sticks,” Chrissy said, trying not to feel too ashamed of her selfishness, “you’re entitled to visiting nurses and other carers. Plus…if you’ve money to spare, you could pay someone Louise trusts to come in a few hours a week. They can do a bit of cleaning just so your folks don’t feel watched, but this person being there would mean Louise could go out, stay in, concentrate on her own stuff, whatever she wanted. You can pay people for evening work too. It’s not just nursing home or nothing.”

Aidan turned his head and gazed at her. The slightly stunned look in his blue eyes faded into a flickering smile. “Why did I not think of those things?”

“You’ve never come up against then before. I have. Plus, I have friends in social services, old colleagues too. I should have spoken to Louise before this. But I can find you numbers if you like. The rest is up to you and Louise.”

“That,” Aidan said, “would be brilliant.” He nudged her gently with one shoulder. “Thanks, Chrissy.”

“No worries,” she said breezily.

“One more favour—talk to Louise? I’m still the absent brother who breezes in every couple of years and tries to lay down the law. This stuff will come better from you.”

“And you can stick to catching drug dealers?”

“That’s the way we both like it.” He half rose, leaning over to make a small adjustment to the wheel.

“Who will you catch in Iraq?” she asked.

“Whoever they ask me to.”

“Why will it be better than the police?” she asked.

“I won’t be undercover.”

“Couldn’t you just have got a transfer within the country?”

“Maybe. I wanted out. A change.”

She looked at her hand, trying to talk herself out of saying anything. It was none of her business, and he might doubt her motives as much as she did. But this was beyond her pride. It was for him.

“You might find there are moral dilemmas in Iraq too. Or do you imagine you could keep your distance better in someone else’s country?” She felt his gaze on her face. “You’ll still be following someone else’s orders. You must have many skills by now, but I doubt that’s one of them.”

“On the contrary, I’m
great
at following orders. Try me. Tell me to do something, anything at all.”

“I told you to fuck off once. That didn’t work.”

“But I did fuck. Half marks.”

Unexpected laughter caught in her throat. She turned her face up to his. “Do you turn everything into a joke?”

“Only things that matter,” he said and dropped a kiss on her lips. As if reminded of how good she tasted, he came back for another, and she lifted her hand to his face. Kissing was so much sweeter than she remembered.

It was almost completely dark when Aidan tied up the boat in Ardknocken’s tiny harbour, and helped her to jump off.

“I’ll give you a lift up the hill,” he offered.

“No, get off home. I want to walk.” She did. She wanted the time between this and walking into the houseful of people, time to remember and savour this day. Kissing Aidan. Sex with Aidan. For her, these things loomed much larger than drug dealers who were killing people. This was one reason she wasn’t a cop.

He hesitated, then, “You do know our day trip will be all round the village before morning? By tomorrow evening, you’ll probably be the reason I had to leave the police.”

“Better give them something worth gossiping about, then,” she said.

He smiled. “Oh, I hoped you’d say that.”

She threw her arms around his neck, and he held her close against his body while he kissed her long and thoroughly.

“Thanks for today,” she said unsteadily, when she could speak at all.

“Thank
you
. Couldn’t have done it without you.” Which made it easy to laugh and break free and wave to him over her shoulder as she strode away from the harbour and headed for home.

Chapter Eleven “There you are, Aidan,” his mother greeted him with something like relief. She was setting the dining room table while Louise carried plates in from the kitchen. “Where have you been all day?”

“On the boat,” he said mildly, adding, since he was fairly sure they already knew, “Took Chrissy over to the seal island. I’ll wake Dad up.”

In this way, amid the effort of dragging his dad from slumber and persuading him it was time to eat, he glossed over Chrissy’s presence on the boat and avoided, with luck, interrogation. But Louise was nothing if not single-minded.

“Chrissy have a nice time?” she asked when they were all seated. She reached for a slice of bread and butter.

“Think so,” Aidan replied noncommittally. His phone buzzed, and he checked the message in case it was a response to the picture he’d sent in with a request for identification and a list of known associates.

At least that was what he told himself, but in fact he wouldn’t have minded receiving a text from Chrissy saying…well, anything to show she was happy and not regretting what they’d done on the boat. But the text was from his old friend Dan MacDonald, so he dropped the phone back into his pocket and carried on eating.

“Just wondered,” Louise said, “since you didn’t bring her back for tea. She could have defrosted here before going home.”

“She wanted to get back,” Aidan said. He wished he’d asked her, drawing their day out another couple of hours. But despite what he’d learned from the island, a nagging guilt consumed him that he’d been taking time out with Chrissy when he should have been working. Someone in Edinburgh was now in hospital from contaminated heroin. He had to stop any more getting through.

“Hmm.” Louise caught his eye. “I like Chrissy.”

He raised one eyebrow. “So do I.”

Louise sniffed. “Well, try not to hurt her feelings. I don’t know her story, but you’re leaving, and I’m pretty sure she’s a lot more vulnerable than she lets on.”

His lips twisted. “We’re all vulnerable, Louise.”

And Chrissy had a pretty wise head on her shoulders. She’d said he had skills, that he didn’t take to orders—which was true. It was one reason he’d been seconded to various forces for undercover work where he had to think on his feet and deliver in his own way. Chrissy herself was using her skills and training in a unique way, reporting only to…who? Herself? Brody? It was a co-operative, but Brody was the boss, he was sure of that. And if his photograph led to Brody or any of the other ex-cons up there, Chrissy would be devastated.

After tea, he washed up and then retreated to the flat upstairs. He’d just opened the laptop when his phone buzzed again to tell him to read his emails.

He did, and there was his photograph, blown up to reveal a face he’d seen before, a known criminal to the Scottish police, who hired himself out to various gangs. James Black by name.

Holding his breath, Aidan scanned the long list of his associates—about as unsavoury as you could get—until one name leapt out at him. Although it didn’t actually surprise him, he read through the rest of the list, looking for any other Ardknocken names. Then, stupidly relieved that there were none, although the list was hardly conclusive proof, he scoured the database for details of the association.

It was tenuous, and there was never enough evidence for it to be used in court. But the police were sure Black had been paid to beat up if not murder one of the chief witnesses in the trial.

It was the link he needed. He knew who to watch.

By mutual if unspoken consent, they swam past their usual rock. Runi suspected Dyrfinna was avoiding him. Certainly, they hadn’t spoken about what had happened at sea this afternoon. Originally frustrated and more than a little annoyed to have boarded the boat only to find the wretched humans making love to each other, he’d begun to see the funny side, although he doubted Dyrfinna did.

Hauling himself onto the beach among the seals, he didn’t look for her. But eventually, she spread herself silently beside him. He could see the big house, and if he concentrated, he could sense
her
, her sexual excitement no longer of the frustrated variety—in that, he and she seemed to have swapped places—and her deep unhappiness slowly dissolving under an emotion he recognized all too well.

“That was farcical,” Dyrfinna said abruptly.

“The timing was wrong,” Runi said. “Most humans won’t go directly from the arms of one lover to another. It was stupid to even go aboard. We should have waited.”

Dyrfinna turned her beautiful head towards him. Her liquid eyes were wetter than usual, and his heart turned over for her, melting his jealousy like a spring thaw.

She said, “My chance is gone, isn’t it? As is yours.”

“I don’t know. Their love is new and their path still rocky. They’re more likely to fall than not. We could be there to pick up the pieces.”

“It wouldn’t be the same.”

“No,” he agreed. He swept his gaze around over the sea to the horizon. Sudden wanderlust spiked; he longed for an escape from the unhappiness they seemed to have swapped with the humans. He turned back to Dyrfinna. “Do you want to leave these shores? Go north?”

She shook her head. “No. Not yet. Let’s stay awhile.”

“Why?” he said helplessly.

“I don’t know,” she whispered, gazing along the beach to the village, waiting, yearning for a glimpse of the man who’d rejected her. She had it badly.

On Sunday morning, Chrissy alternated between the urge to sing and the need to squash the rise of unreasonable and unspecific hope. Both centred on Aidan. She compromised by humming to herself and going for a solitary walk in the rain. Later, maybe in the afternoon, she’d walk down to the village and visit Louise. She’d already found the names and numbers she’d promised Aidan.

At the front door of Ardknocken House, she encountered Izzy and the dog Screw, who’d just come home from the opposite direction.

“We’ve swapped,” Izzy said with a grin, grabbing Screw by the collar and drying him vigorously with an old towel she kept by the front door for the purpose. “I walk the dog, Glenn walks Jack.”

Izzy stripped off her dripping coat. “They’re still out there?”

“Fishing,” Izzy said, wrinkling her nose. “Not that Jack will be able to sit still for long enough, but he likes being with Glenn doing boy things.”

Chrissy smiled. Glenn’s growing relationship with his new family warmed her heart. Their happiness together reminded her such things were possible. She felt as if she herself was on a precipice, a knife edge from which she could fall either way. But even that was stupid. There was only one way this thing with Aidan could go. They’d been helping each other, that was all. Aidan was leaving. The only real question for Chrissy was how much it would hurt when he did.

“You all right?” Izzy asked.

“’Course. Want some coffee?”

“Sure,” Izzy said.

Screw trotted with them into the kitchen, where Rab and Charlie were comparing hangovers and, she thought, girl experiences, although they adroitly left off that line of conversation when Chrissy and Izzy walked in.

By way of finishing, Charlie said only, “I was totally wasted at New Year. No idea how I got to my bed.”

Which struck Chrissy with the beginnings of understanding. While she made coffee, thoughtfully, Izzy filled the dog’s water bowl and Screw left off slavering over Rab to drink and beg for a treat.

Charlie drew a crumpled piece of paper out of his pocket and spread it on the table. “What do you think of this, Chrissy? Me and Rab were talking, came up with a bit of a joint venture. A table with a painting—or maybe small picture panels at each corner.”

Chrissy looked down at the sketch which bore Rab’s distinctive style in the shape of the coffee tables, and the outline of some landscape art on the tops.

“Muted colours, we thought, only we can’t work out whether I should paint right onto the wood or use tiles or something. Tiles’d be more practical for cleaning.”

“You could do both and price them differently. If you pay big bucks for original art, you’re not going to spill hot coffee over it.”

“You reckon they’d sell, then?” Charlie asked.

“Easily,” Izzy said, peering over Chrissy’s shoulder. “That shape is gorgeous, and with one of your paintings on it, Charlie, I reckon the rich and famous will scramble to own one.”

“Izzy used to hang out with people like that,” Chrissy said. “She knows.”

Rab and Charlie both grinned with delight, and Chrissy and Izzy left Screw with them to go up and drink their coffee in Chrissy’s room.

Like most of the rooms in the house, it was large and light. Chrissy had made a little sitting area within it: a two-seater sofa and a couple of colourful beanbags. Not that she entertained much. Her mother and sister had come to see it once when she’d first arrived, and an old friend from Glasgow a few weeks later. Apart from them, Izzy was her only visitor.

Sprawling in the bean bags, they drank coffee and talked a bit about Rab and Charlie’s new design, and how well both were doing individually. Both had had pieces in exhibitions before Christmas, and Chrissy was in negotiation with an Edinburgh gallery for a showing devoted to Charlie’s work.

Izzy couldn’t have been more pleased for them if they’d been her own brothers. The wary young woman Chrissy had interviewed for a cleaning job only a few months ago, who’d been so determined not to have her son contaminated by ex-con presence, had undergone quite a sea change. It came with understanding, of course, and an appreciation of the unique individuals involved in this project. Chrissy wondered if Aidan, the disillusioned cop, would ever acquire such an appreciation. Of course, he was half-villain anyway, according to his own thoughts, so perhaps…

Stop it, Chrissy!

“I went sailing with Aidan Grieve yesterday,” she blurted. If she didn’t tell someone something, just say his name, she felt she’d burst.

If Izzy knew already, she gave no sign of it. “Fun?” she asked.

“Yes. Surprisingly.”

Izzy smiled over her coffee cup. “Why surprising? He seemed a charming kind of guy to me. Not to say
hot
.”

Oh God, you have no idea…
“I’m sure Glenn told you,” Chrissy said quickly. “Aidan thought I’d killed that bloke in Oban. Or at least he seemed to, on account of finding my fingerprints on the murder weapon. Turns out he never really suspected me at all.”

“Of course he didn’t,” Izzy said bracingly. “He has a whole house full of ex-cons to provide much better suspects.”

Chrissy shifted uncomfortably and set her mug on the floor. “He’s not a fool. He couldn’t be and have done the kind of work he has.”

“I know. For what it’s worth, Glenn likes him. Reluctantly.”

“So do I,” Chrissy said with a twist of her lips. “Even more reluctantly. Izzy… You clean the boys’ rooms. Ever seen a metal detector in any of them?”

Izzy blinked. “A metal detector! No. Why?”

“Because I buried that gun I should never have had in the woods, and someone dug it up.”

“Bit of a long shot, isn’t it? Wouldn’t we have seen someone scanning the place with a metal detector? It must have taken ages to home in on just the right spot.”

“Not if they knew where to look,” Chrissy said bleakly.

Izzy stared at her. Being perceptive, she’d have picked up the implications along with Chrissy’s reluctance to believe in such a betrayal.

Izzy said, “I wouldn’t see a metal detector if they kept it in a cupboard. And I don’t clean all the rooms. I don’t do Archie’s or Jim’s—or Rab’s now that he’s in the cottage.”

“What about the new guys?”

“Len does his own. As do Thierry and Nick in the caravans. But how would they even know about the gun?”

“Someone could have told them.”

“Oh no,” Izzy said definitely. “These guys keep secrets for Britain.”

“Not deliberately,” Chrissy agreed. “But when do you blab stuff you’d normally never dream of telling anyone?”

“When you’re pissed,” Izzy said slowly.

“And when do you get even more ratted than usual and believe everyone in the world is your friend and a good guy?”

“New Year… The new guys were all here for the bells. You really think one of them…?”

“I’m beginning to.” Chrissy picked up her mug again. “It just struck me when I heard Rab and Charlie in the kitchen just now.”

“Shit,” Izzy said, frowning. “This is bad. For everyone.”

“I know.” Chrissy swallowed her coffee. “So I’ve been thinking. Not today—everyone’s movements are too uncertain and you never work weekends—but tomorrow, while you’re cleaning, will you keep watch for me so I can search the rooms?”

Aidan, who’d done a lot of thinking during the night as to motive and mechanics, crouched down in the rain by the disturbed earth where Chrissy had buried her illegal handgun. Taking the trowel from his backpack, he began to dig. When he struck something hard, he used his hands until he uncovered the foreign object. He photographed it in situ before pulling it from the ground.

Sealed inside a plastic freezer bag was an automatic handgun. Aidan unwrapped it, removed the ammunition and replaced it where he’d found it. He was reburying it when he picked up the sound of a child’s voice over the pattering of rain on his hood. Probably Jack, Izzy’s son. He hoped the dog wasn’t with him. He worked faster, shoving the trowel in his bag out of sight, and using his hands to shovel the dirt back into the large hole.

In the wet, twigs didn’t provide warning snaps, but feet still made a soft, squelchy sound. Aidan knew he was rumbled and made a point of rising slowly. This way, his discoverer would feel unthreatened and Aidan could spin his story about a dropped contact lens. Not that he wore them, but it was the best he could come up with. And he still made sure he was poised and balanced. If it came to a fight, he’d no intention of losing.

Glenn Brody stood very still in the rain, holding two fishing rods and looking every inch what Aidan knew him to be: a dangerous man who was no stranger to violence. He said, “There’s a sand pit closer to the house.”

“But Chrissy doesn’t play there,” Aidan pointed out.

“She did once,” Jack said, emerging from behind Glenn. “What are you doing?”