The Drowning Tide (Blair Dubh Trilogy #2) (12 page)

Mandy followed the woman’s pointing finger to the far corner of the churchyard which, despite the sun and warmth of the day, looked cold and neglected. The breeze caressed her exposed back and she stifled a shiver.

“My friend came on this tour last month and she said this village was creepy,” continued the woman. “She said sometimes it feels like it’s alive and she was sure something was watching her, something evil.”

“What a load of crap,” scoffed the man accompanying the bucktoothed woman.

“It’s not,” she retorted. “Two murderers are buried up here along with their victims. That’s got to cause some celestial friction. Can’t you feel it? The tension in the air, the sense that something’s lurking in the bushes waiting to pounce?”

The man shook his head. “I knew we shouldn’t have come here, you always let your imagination run away with you.”

“It’s not my imagination David. Serial killers are rare enough but two in one tiny village, don’t you think that’s odd?”

David shrugged. “Coincidence.”

“Yeah, right,” she scoffed. The woman looked to Mandy. “Haven’t you felt it?”

Mandy recalled the breeze that had touched her while she’d been standing over Logan’s grave and the certainty that he’d been communicating with her, but it had only been for a moment and she didn’t believe in ghosts. “No,” she retorted.

“See, it’s just you and your wild imagination,” David told the woman. He looked to Mandy with interest. “So, first time here?”

Mandy just nodded, flashing him her best smile.

The bucktoothed woman frowned and took his arm. “Come on David, I want to go into the church.”

As he was dragged away he kept looking back over his shoulder at Mandy who preened with pleasure. She was used to men being dazzled by her and women being jealous. That was how things should be but the one man who really mattered didn’t want to look at her and his wife derided her.

That breeze whipped up again as she gazed down the hill towards Craig and Freya, who were still arguing with Toby. Soon the balance would be righted.

CHAPTER 13

“You can’t do this you bloody moron,” protested Toby as Craig ushered him back down the hill towards the village.

“Insults, that’s a good way to get yourself out of this,” replied Craig. “Move it.”

“This is harassment, I’ll make a complaint…”

“Tell it to someone who gives a shit.”

Nora met them at the bottom of the hill accompanied by two figures both Craig and Freya were very pleased to see.

“Steve, Gary, good to see you,” smiled Craig.

These were the two PC’s who had been assigned to help Craig track down Lynch. They’d both done a bloody good job too. Freya noticed the scar on top of Gary’s bald head, put there by Lynch himself after he’d smashed a vodka bottle over his head when he’d tried to stop him from killing her. They’d both come to their wedding in Glasgow but they hadn’t seen them since.

She embraced them both warmly. “It’s so good to see you.”

“You too Sweetheart,” replied Gary, flashing her his best smile. He’d always had a crush on her. “I see you’re making your presence felt,” he said, gesturing to Craig holding Toby by the arm.

“It’s my fault,” said Nora. “I should have warned you sooner but I wanted to break it to you gently. I didn’t realise the time when you went out. He does his evening tours at six.”

“Evening tours? So there’s more than one?” said an incredulous Freya.

“Ten and two every day with an extra six o’clock tour Friday, Saturday and Sunday,” she replied. “None of us approve but he doesn’t care about that, just as long as he gets his blood money,” she hissed in Toby’s face, who remained defiant. “Are you arresting him?” she asked her son.

“I wish I could. I’m just checking he’s got all the necessary permits.”

“I have,” exclaimed Toby.

“We’ll see.”

Toby sighed, shook his head and muttered something uncomplimentary about Craig and all police in general.

They all piled into his neat little cottage, Toby insisting they remove their shoes first. He went straight to a bureau in the corner of the sitting room, opened the drawer and took out some paperwork. “There, see?” he said, stuffing it into Craig’s hand. “Now can I get back to my group?”

“I haven’t looked at it yet. Please take a seat.”

“My group’s waiting for me.”

“The sooner you do as I ask the sooner you can leave,” replied Craig stonily.

Toby huffed, folded his arms across his chest and threw himself into an armchair.

The others tried to stifle their laughs as Craig took his time perusing the documents, making a point of studying each one carefully before moving onto the next, all except Freya, who glared ferociously at Toby. He in turn was growing more and more impatient, foot tapping angrily, until he could contain himself no longer.

“Oh for Christ’s sake, are you stupid or something? How long does it take you to read a bit of paper?”

Craig fixed him with a hard stare. “What have we said about insults Mr Moore?”

“Can’t you two do something?” Toby said to Gary and Steve. “This isn’t even his territory.”

“Sorry, he’s a sergeant, he outranks us both,” replied Steve, amusement dancing in his eyes.

“I thought one of you would have been promoted to replace Craig,” said Freya.

“No,” replied Steve. “We both put in for it but they gave it to someone else.”

“A real wank,” interjected Gary. “’Scuse the language Nora.”

“That’s alright, I agree with you. Sergeant Hughes is a wank.”

Craig looked up from the paperwork with a raised eyebrow. It was unusual to hear such language from his mother. Hughes must be bad.

“Well he is,” she retorted when she caught her son’s look. “I know his type - nose stuck up his superiors’ backsides, that’s how he got your old job and he’s not up to it. Steve or Gary would have been much better, especially after how they conducted themselves during the Martin Lynch episode. It’s a scandal they were overlooked.”

“I hate to interrupt this truly touching moment of appreciation but I need to leave,” said Toby.

“Just a few more minutes please Sir, I need to call the Council and check this documentation is in fact genuine.”

“Course it’s fucking genuine,” exploded Toby, shooting to his feet, face turning beetroot.

“Now now Mr Moore, I recommend you calm down,” said Craig. “Outbursts like that will not help your situation and do not use language like that in front of my wife and mother.”

“But she…”

“She what?” glowered Craig when Toby pointed at Freya.

Toby had been about to remind him of the foul language she’d thrown at him in the graveyard but thought it wouldn’t help. Beneath the force of Craig’s challenging stare he released a growl of frustration then threw himself back into his chair, hyperventilating.

As Craig waited for his call to be picked up he winked at Freya, who gazed back at him adoringly.

An hour later Craig had completed his checks and finally he allowed Toby to leave.

“About time,” he yelled, storming out the front door.

They all followed to watch as he was confronted by a group of angry people at the end of his garden path, pointing at their watches and demanding their money back.

“Have a good day Sir,” Craig called as they left.

Freya linked her arm through her husband’s and rested her head on his shoulder. “You were magnificent.”

“Thank you,” he smiled proudly.

“Aye, that was bloody hilarious,” said Gary. “I wish you were still Sarge here.”

“Sorry boys, we’re happily settled in Glasgow, aren’t we babe?”

She smiled up at him, feeling wonderfully content. So what if they didn’t have a baby? They already had so much.

DCI Gray was briefing his stunned team. Some of them had worked here for donkey’s years, as a result they’d actually served with Docherty and remembered the pain and mayhem he’d caused.

“Its been confirmed by fingerprint comparison that the patient under guard at Glasgow Royal is William McMillan, one of the guards from the seg unit Docherty was on. Docherty is unaccounted for.” He raised his voice over the angry murmurs. “Which means he has a head start on us.” He turned to the board on which were pinned photos of Sally and Anita’s mangled bodies. “These two women testified against him and helped put him away. Thirty six hours after his escape they were both murdered. That’s the thanks they get for their bravery.” Next he pointed to an image of Freya taken from one of her many mug shots. “This is the third woman who had the courage to testify against Docherty, Freya Donaldson nee Macalister. Married to one of our own, DS Donaldson with Glasgow West End. Both were involved in The Elemental murders in Blair Dubh two years ago. Freya barely survived. She’s next on Docherty’s list and he’ll be going after her as we speak. We need to find her before he does. Unfortunately both Freya and DS Donaldson are bobbing about on the Clyde somewhere in a hired boat. We can’t assume Docherty doesn’t know this. Until we find Freya we keep the news of Docherty’s escape from the media.”

“Surely we need the public’s help locating him?” said the braver of his DI’s.

“There’s a good reason,” retorted Gray, giving him his harshest glare. “So far he thinks his escape has gone unnoticed and he can move about freely. If we start flashing his photo up on the telly the bastard’s either going to go underground or panic and kill Freya. Don’t forget he used to be one of us, he knows how we operate. This way we maintain the element of surprise. I want a discreet search coordinated throughout the city. I would like to have the coastguard on the lookout for Freya’s boat but thanks to the fucking stupid Government cutbacks the nearest station is Belfast. So this search will have to be conducted entirely on land. Get to it and not a word to anyone outside this room. This is the last briefing we will have on this matter. If anyone turns up anything you come directly to me. This has been agreed on higher up the food chain than me. There will be no talking to the press and no leaks. If anyone blabs I will nail their testicles to my office door.”

“What if we blab Sir?” grinned a female detective constable.

Gray wished he was one of those people who could come up with witty retorts in a an instant but whenever he tried his mind went blank, so he went for grumpy instead. “We don’t have time for arsing about. Now get to it, the clock’s ticking on a woman‘s life.”

As they all jumped to it Gray gave the female a detective a hard look, who studiously avoided his eyes as she picked up the phone. Satisfied he’d put her in her place he turned to face the whiteboard. It broke his heart what had been done to Sally and Anita. He just prayed they were in time to stop the same thing happening to Freya. He also feared Docherty had already found her. Who knew what tortures she could be enduring at that very moment?

“Craig,” moaned Freya as the orgasm shook her body, her fingers tightening in his hair. “Oh God, yes.”

He lifted his head from between her thighs and grimaced, rubbing the top of his head. “I’m sure you pulled some hair out then.”

“Stop being a jessie,” she replied with a languid smile.

“There’s a bald patch, I’m sure of it,” he said, probing the area with his fingertips.

“Let’s take a look,” she said, pushing herself up to a sitting position. “It’s all there, stop panicking. It’s your own fault for being so good at that.” Despite how pleasurable his attentions were he hadn’t made love to her yet. In fact he hadn’t made love to her since that time on the couch at their flat after the doctor had dropped a bombshell on them. She could see the trepidation in his eyes. It was vital they nip this in the bud before it escalated and destroyed their sex life.

“I’m done in babe,” he said when she started to unzip his jeans.

“You don’t feel tired,” she purred, cupping his bulging crotch.

“I really am. Its been a long day.”

Her green eyes narrowed. “You’re afraid, aren’t you?”

“No.”

“Aye you are.”

“No I’m not,” he insisted.

“Then prove it,” she said, pulling down his jeans and underwear.

“Freya really, I’m tired…oh jeezo,” he gasped when she took him in her mouth. “I…I…”

All thoughts of objecting went out of his head as the pleasure enveloped him and he gazed down at his wife, running his fingers over the flames tattooed on her back and just let go of his fears and worries until the mind-blowing sensations reached a crescendo. He called out her name and fell back onto the bed with a smile. He wasn’t impotent.

“See, I knew you could do it,” smiled Freya.

“Come here you bloody amazing woman,” he said, pulling her down to him for a kiss.

Docherty was extremely pissed off. He’d driven past the single track road leading down to Blair Dubh four times before he’d even realised it was there.

“Stupid fucking villages,” he snarled, banging his fist down on the steering wheel of the stolen Volvo, accidentally hitting the horn and eliciting a loud beep that made him cringe. So much for a subtle entrance. He looked around to see if anyone had heard but the road was deserted. He’d lived just over an hour’s drive from this village his entire life but he’d never been before, always driving past it on his way to more interesting places, so he had no idea where he was going. On the bright side, getting lost for so long meant the sun was just starting to set. This was one of those places where in summer there were very few dark hours, the sun setting very late and rising early.

He was forced to slam on the brakes when his entire body shook with excitement as the village opened up before him, the boats moored at the dock floating about on the water. Freya was on one of those.

He released a groan as he recalled what he’d done to Sally and Anita and imagined doing the same to her, the one he hated most. His fingers clamped down on the steering wheel and his breath came out in ragged pants. How satisfying it would be to see her blood leak out of her, hear her screams and smell her fear. She’d always been one of his favourites. Yes, she’d been afraid of him but she’d fought back too. Those cat-like green eyes full of fury and insolence had only made him more determined to beat her into submission. Freya had never understood why he’d picked on her so much and it was because he enjoyed her struggles. She’d landed a few blows on him too, which had not only fuelled his rage but had made it all the more thrilling. She’d been so pretty with that mop of blond hair and those eyes, but he’d liked her even more when she’d started wearing the black clothes and dyeing her hair. Unwittingly her attempt to disguise herself had only made her more attractive to him. Back then she was a much different prospect to Sally and Anita and she still was. This one had a life worth fighting for and she’d be his toughest challenge yet.

He was still pondering on what to do about the husband. Ideally he would like him out of the way so he could take his time with Freya, but she loved him. Perhaps he could use him to hurt her? Torturing him before killing him right in front of her would be very satisfying. She would beg him to stop, to kill her instead but he would keep going, revelling in her pain and tears. However DS Donaldson had taken down two serial killers. He couldn’t believe the jammy bastard’s luck. A lot of coppers didn’t encounter one serial murderer in their entire careers but he’d already got two under his belt and he’d only just turned thirty. His name was famous and he was at the start of a glowing career. Docherty smiled to himself. Little did DS Donaldson know that a third was about to cross his path because when he’d killed Freya that would be three. Then he’d be an official serial killer.