None but the Dead (41 page)

‘What the fuck?’ The stupid look he gave her suggested he was still half asleep.

‘Go on,’ she urged him as she dripped in the porch.

He registered her request and went to fulfil it.

The knife secured now inside the bag, she demanded a towel. A cheeky grin on his face, McNab fetched one as bid. Rhona shut the door and began to strip off the wetsuit.

‘It’s not as though I haven’t seen you naked,’ he reminded her, through the intervening door.

Rhona ignored the jibe and, wrapped in the towel, headed for the shower.

McNab, his interest now focussed on the exhibit she’d brought back, called through. ‘Where the hell did you find this?’

‘In the water, just off the beach,’ Rhona answered.

When she returned, she found McNab busily taking photographs of the bone-handled knife.

‘I’ll send these to Hege. See if she can identify the knife as the one Millar was carrying.’

Last night, it hadn’t seemed appropriate for McNab to interrogate Claire about a visit from her former partner, when she’d just been reunited with her daughter. At a nod from Erling,
they’d bowed out, shortly after establishing that ‘Daddy’ had been there, but ‘Mummy hadn’t wanted to go to the boat because the weather was too bad’.

McNab had openly played along with the charade, despite Claire’s cut lip and frightened eyes, realizing, as they all did, that she was shielding her daughter from the reality of what had
happened there.

‘Assuming the knife is his, how did it end up in the water?’ McNab said as he refilled his coffee mug. ‘And where’s Millar now?’

This was the first time she’d visited the Ranger’s home. Viewed from a distance, it looked very like the cottage. One-storey high, thick grey walls, flagstone roof,
a small walled garden tucked in behind, with various outbuildings on the seaward side. In this case, the outbuildings were all in good repair, although at least one of them was obviously being used
as a home for stray cats, which caused McNab to give it a wide berth.

The boat they’d used to cross to Start Island wasn’t in evidence, and Rhona wondered initially whether the Ranger had gone out in it. But as she and McNab approached, the door was
opened and Derek Muir stepped outside to greet them.

He looked much better than the man who’d addressed the assembled company at the strategy meeting, and he now seemed able to meet her gaze. He welcomed them inside, where a fire blazed in
the hearth.

‘Can I offer you tea or coffee, Dr MacLeod? Detective Sergeant?’

She thanked Muir, but declined the offer, as did McNab.

‘I see your boat’s gone?’ McNab said.

The Ranger nodded. ‘I didn’t get a chance to secure it before the storm hit.’

‘How are Claire and Inga this morning?’ Rhona asked.

‘I thought it better to give them some time alone together, so I haven’t gone over yet.’

Eventually, McNab posed his question. ‘Did you see Joe Millar last night?’

The Ranger met McNab’s eye without hesitation. ‘No, he’d left by the time I arrived.’

‘And how was Claire?’ Rhona said.

‘Distressed.’

‘He’d hit her?’ McNab came in.

‘You saw her face.’

‘Did she say why he left in the middle of a storm?’

‘He heard my pickup, and thought it was the police.’

It was a plausible enough explanation.

‘Is there any chance he could have taken your boat?’

Rhona watched the Ranger’s face as McNab posed the question. She thought he was surprised by it, then, as though it had caused a little spark of intuition, he gave a half-smile.

‘I hadn’t thought of that, but yes, I suppose it’s a possibility.’

‘Did Claire mention a knife?’

The Ranger’s expression grew grave. ‘No, why?’

‘No reason,’ McNab lied.

They spoke then of his transfer to Kirkwall.

‘DI Flett gave me permission to attend the bonfire tonight. I’ll be taken to Kirkwall tomorrow.’ He appeared resigned to his fate, probably made more bearable by Inga’s
safe return.

McNab indicated they were about to leave. The Ranger rose to see them out, but McNab said it wasn’t necessary.

At the door Rhona turned to find Derek Muir staring out of the window at the calm waters of the bay.

‘What d’you think?’ she asked as they made their way towards the Sinclair place.

‘It’s a minute’s walk. Why did he drive there in the pickup?’

‘It was blowing a gale, remember?’

‘Something’s not right,’ McNab pronounced.

‘You feel it in your waters, as Chrissy would say?’

He grinned at her then, his face lighting up. ‘Christ, I miss Chrissy.’

Rhona agreed wholeheartedly.

The door of the Sinclair house stood open. Outside was a collection of vehicles, and from within came excited chatter and children’s voices. It seemed all the neighbours had come to
register their delight that Inga was back safe and well.

‘It’s too busy in there. You can’t question Claire just now,’ Rhona said. ‘I don’t think she’ll talk about it anyway. She’s got Inga back.
That’s all she cares about.’

‘Let’s go find something to eat,’ he said. ‘You can contact Chrissy from the hotel.’

The drive south bore no resemblance to the one that had brought them north the previous evening. High visibility and a clear sky gave spectacular views across the flat landscape to the calm sea
beyond. It was difficult to believe, with no evidence of debris, that such a storm had ever happened. Had such a wind hit Glasgow, Rhona doubted whether it would have left the city unmarked.

As they approached Cata Sand, they saw a couple of pickups, and some men replenishing the bonfire.

‘They don’t give up, do they?’ McNab said.

‘You’ll go tonight?’

He glanced round at her. ‘You’re fucking joking?’

‘I’ll be there,’ Rhona declared.

‘Why?’

‘Because Inga will be, and everyone else who searched for her.’

‘You’re going soft,’ McNab said in disbelief.

Rhona laughed. ‘Unlike you, you mean?’

Tor was in the kitchen when they entered. He looked a little surprised by their sudden appearance, but immediately offered to cook them breakfast, which McNab accepted.

Rhona took herself into the bar and downloaded three messages from Chrissy, who’d also attempted to phone her three times.

Glancing at the contents of the texts, Rhona immediately called Chrissy back.

‘He didn’t die of a broken neck,’ Chrissy said when she answered.

‘I saw that. What killed him?’

‘The pathologist found evidence of a wound to the brain, inflicted he believed by a long thin blade, via the right ear.’

Rhona quickly brought Chrissy up to date on Inga’s safe return.

Her pleasure at the news was evidenced by the whooping sound at the other end of the line.

‘Have you found the bastard?’

‘No, but I have found what I believe is his knife,’ Rhona said. ‘A fisherman’s blade with a spike attachment.’

She rang off as Tor appeared with two stacked plates and a pot of coffee, which when tasted, proved to be extra strong. McNab obviously had him well trained.

Depositing the food, Tor scurried off, surprising Rhona, who thought he might have hung around to try and find out more about the previous night’s proceedings.

She told McNab the latest news as he tucked into his breakfast.

‘So we might have Millar on a murder charge?’

‘If the spike on the knife’s a match to the wound. And other forensic evidence from the schoolhouse places Millar there.’ She paused. ‘He might have been at the
cottage.’ She explained about the smell of diesel.

McNab looked thoughtful. ‘I had the feeling someone had been in my room at the hotel.’

They finished up and headed for the community centre to meet Erling. McNab’s mood was upbeat, a smile playing the corner of his mouth, and he was humming a tune that sounded like the theme
of
Star Wars
. Rhona wasn’t sure whether he was picturing himself as Darth Vader or Luke Skywalker.

‘Why so happy?’ she said.

‘I’m heading home tomorrow. As are you. First flight out of here.’

‘And the hunt for Millar?’

‘That’s DI Flett’s job now.’

The community centre car park was busy. It seemed those who weren’t visiting Claire at home had come here to get the news.

Hege was at the coffee machine and McNab headed straight for her, keen to establish whether she could identify Millar’s knife from the photographs he’d sent.

Rhona made her way into the meeting room, where Erling, Magnus and the remainder of the team were gathered.

The atmosphere was one of elation. For the officers gathered here, this would have been their first and hopefully their last search for a missing child.

PC Tulloch gave her a big grin.

‘Dr MacLeod. You okay?’

‘Thanks to you, yes.’

Erling, composed as always, called them to order, just as McNab appeared.

The knife was produced and McNab indicated that it had been identified by Hege Aater as the one shown to her by Joe Millar.

Rhona explained where she’d found it, and added the news regarding the results of the post-mortem on Mike Jones.

‘So Millar is in the frame for his death and this knife could prove to be the murder weapon?’ Erling said.

‘Yes.’

Rhona recognized the assembled company’s relief at the news. Jones had been badly dealt with by the local community, but the possibility that someone from Sanday had been involved in his
death had obviously caused concern.

Erling then revealed that Derek Muir’s boat had been discovered by the coastguard on the rocks north of Start Point.

‘The boat was spotted by Rognvald Skea last night. He thought there was a man on board.’

McNab interrupted him ‘You’re suggesting that man may have been Joe Millar?’

‘In view of the fact that Dr MacLeod found Millar’s knife in the water, that must be viewed as a possibility.’

McNab looked bemused. ‘Why would Millar take to the water in a storm?’

‘Claire Sinclair confirmed this morning that Millar had been at her house, but had left when he heard Derek Muir arrive, assuming it was the police.’

McNab pondered this.

‘Okay, I buy the fact he would have left if he thought we were arriving. I just don’t buy why he’d take to the water, especially in high seas.’

Rhona saw McNab’s point. Millar was an experienced fisherman and no doubt used to bad weather, but to launch a small boat in the seas they’d witnessed last night seemed unlikely.

‘Maybe because it’s the last place he thought we would look?’ she tried.

McNab wasn’t convinced. ‘The guy evaded us for days and kept the girl hidden. Why would he do something so stupid?’ He paused, a light in his eye. ‘Unless?’

‘Unless what, Sergeant?’ Erling said.

‘Unless someone was actually chasing him.’

One thing for certain, after today, he wouldn’t be travelling this fucking road again. Ever.

Seeing an approaching car, McNab made no attempt to draw into the nearby passing place. The black pickup didn’t look as though it planned to stop either, the result being that they just
scraped past each other, thanks to the sandy verges.

The other driver, who stared straight ahead, was revealed to be Rognvald Skea, grandson of old Mrs Skea, who McNab had attempted to interview without success because of her strong Sanday accent.
Rognvald Skea was also, he remembered, wee timid Nele Skea’s dad.

And the man who’d spotted the Ranger’s boat with its unidentified passenger on board.

‘They’re all fucking related,’ McNab muttered under his breath, while aware that he was wrong, and that at least fifty per cent of the island’s current inhabitants came
from elsewhere.

Still, that knowledge didn’t meet his current mood.

Despite Rhona’s advice, he had every intention of speaking to Claire Sinclair and Inga. And he wasn’t officially off the case until tomorrow. He’d left Rhona at the community
centre (he still couldn’t attempt the name Heilsa Fjold), without revealing his plan, aware that she would try and dissuade him from it.

And I promised Inga I would come.

Passing Cata Sand and the bonfire yet again, McNab felt he was in his own particular version of
Groundhog Day
.

But tomorrow I’ll be back in normality.

The other vehicles had gone from the front of the house. McNab pulled up and cut the engine.

When he knocked, it was Inga who answered, her face lighting up at the sight of him.

‘I thought you weren’t coming,’ she said in a whisper.

‘I promised I would,’ McNab said with a smile.

‘Do you want to speak to Mum?’

‘If that’s okay?’

Claire was in the kitchen. There was a rich scent of meat cooking and she was chopping vegetables at the table. Seeing McNab, her expression moved from welcome to caution, then she mustered
herself.

‘Detective Sergeant. Can I make you some coffee?’

He nodded, because it would make things easier between them, and he didn’t want to spook her. The bruising had coloured a little from last night, the cut to the side of her mouth crusted
over. Seeing the injuries brought his anger back.

His main fear when he’d confronted DI Flett this morning was, if they assumed Millar had drowned, they wouldn’t take account of the fact he might reappear to hurt Claire or Inga
again.

‘I thought they would have posted an officer here with you.’

‘They offered,’ she said quickly, ‘but I don’t think I need one.’ She looked as though she might explain why, then thought the better of it.

The kettle having boiled, she spooned coffee into the cafetière.

‘I’m sorry I can’t make you an espresso,’ she said.

‘It seems everyone on Sanday knows my likes and dislikes.’

‘It’s the price you pay for living on a small island.’ She glanced at him. ‘You hate it here, don’t you?’

‘I’m not good with open spaces,’ he admitted. ‘I prefer the city.’

‘I did too, for a while.’

As she pressed down the plunger he noted the long thin cuts on her wrists. Seeing his concerned look, she shook her head, intimating she didn’t want him to mention them in front of
Inga.