The Drowning Tide (Blair Dubh Trilogy #2) (23 page)

When Freya didn’t reply Craig said, “I think so.”

“And she stabbed Craig in the woods.”

When Freya failed to respond for a second time Nora looked to her son, who stared back at her with a troubled gaze.

“At least it’s over now, you’re safe,” she continued, undaunted. “I’ll make some tea,” she added, bustling into the kitchen and shutting the door behind her, hoping some privacy with Craig would snap Freya out of it.

“I’m so sorry Babe,” said Craig, gently stroking her back, careful to avoid her wound. “Freya, can you hear me?” he said when she failed to respond again.

She gave one slow nod.

“Why won’t you look at me?”

She shrugged.

He realised she was cutting herself off from everyone around her, retreating into the self-preservation techniques she’d learned as a child. She would sever all the bonds she’d built up, determined to rely on just herself and he would lose her.

“Freya talk to me, please,” he said, grasping her hand. “If this is about what I said you know I didn’t mean it.
You
are the most beautiful woman I’ve ever seen. I love you. I hate Mandy.”

“The wind’s dying down.”

“What?”

“The wind’s dying down,” she replied in a quiet dreamy voice.

Looking out of the window he saw the trees weren’t being blown about quite as much, the birds able to actually fly in the sky and not just hover. “That’s good.”

“The danger’s gone.”

“Yes it has. You’re safe. After what Mandy did today they will lock her up and throw away the key. She can’t ever hurt us again.”

“Maybe,” she replied before retreating back into her own world.

Craig was scared. Freya had already endured so much trauma in her life and he feared what this fresh shock would do to her.

The kitchen door opened and Craig looked to his mum for help. “I don’t know what to do.”

“It’s okay, just give her a bit of peace. She’s in shock.”

Her words didn’t reassure him but he went silent, slumping back in the couch, regarding his wife with worried eyes. He took Freya’s right hand, the knuckles bruised from punching Mandy, but she didn’t appear to notice.

“Freya?”

She ignored him, continuing to gaze out of the window.

“Leave her be Craig,” said Nora gently. “Leave her be.”

CHAPTER 24

DCI Gray was amazed. He’d been able to keep the news of Docherty’s escape quiet. He’d felt sure someone at the hospital or in the prison service would have blabbed to the papers but so far so good. Perhaps they all realised the importance of getting someone as dangerous as Docherty back under lock and key as soon as possible.

He’d wasted time on Arran checking Brodick harbour to make sure Freya and Craig weren’t moored there. They weren’t. He’d felt sure he’d find them safe and sound but after flashing their photos around the local pubs and restaurants he found there was no sign of them. The two detectives he’d sent to Turnberry had turned up nothing either.

Now he was on his way to Blair Dubh in an unmarked car accompanied by a detective constable, their last chance at finding her. He’d just had a call from DS Donaldson’s area command. His superior had finally told DS Muir - who Craig had hired the boat from - that his colleague was in danger, although no one at their station knew what that danger was. Muir had said he’d spoken to Craig only yesterday, who had been concerned his stalker of an ex-girlfriend was causing problems. Freya and Craig were in Blair Dubh. They’d been unable to contact anyone in the village, something to do with a fallen telegraph pole caused by high winds. With a bit of luck Freya and Craig would have already moved on, which would mean they were out on the water somewhere well out of Docherty’s reach.

He was keeping this visit to Blair Dubh low key, accompanied by an officer Docherty had never met. Going into a village as small as Blair Dubh with an armed response team would have attracted a lot of unwanted attention. This way was subtle and if Docherty was there he wouldn’t panic and do something stupid. He didn’t really believe Docherty was in Blair Dubh anyway, he was still lurking in Glasgow. Davey had told him nothing and not even the neighbours knew the Donaldsons had gone away. He’d no way of knowing where she was. Gray was here to warn her of the danger and send her away on her boat where Docherty couldn’t reach her, then she’d be safe. When he couldn’t find her hopefully Docherty would come after him instead and he’d be ready. The prospect of putting that bastard away for a second time was a very satisfying one.

Davey slammed his old Ford Capri into gear, cursing under his breath when it whined and protested.

“Come on girl, you can do it,” he told the car.

Unable to relax until he knew Freya was safe he’d decided to take a few days off work himself and look for her. He couldn’t stand the thought of Docherty getting his hands on her again.

Davey’s expression was troubled as he cast his mind back several years to when Freya had first come to him for help with her addiction. A shockingly pale and thin woman with a mass of black hair and thick black eye make-up that made her look even more ill had slunk into his office and thrown herself into a chair. He’d never encountered such resilient mental armour before and it had taken him a while to get her to open up, naturally she’d been very mistrustful, used to relying on no one but herself since she was eleven. But Freya had wanted to get well and that incredible inner strength and determination of hers had seen her through.

Gaining her trust had been a very gradual process. She’d begun with letting slip a few details about her nightmares, which led to her discussing what had happened to her mother, being taken from her home, the abuse in care, living on the streets. She’d told her story in a quiet detached voice but when she’d finally got to the part about Docherty she’d broken down, shaking with fear and a considerable amount of rage too. She’d explained how good DCI Gray had been to her, believing her story, encouraging her, giving her the courage to get through the trial. After she’d spoken about Docherty she’d been much more relaxed in Davey’s company, she’d trusted him. He’d spotted her potential early on, recognised her strength and knew here was a person he could really help, and he had. His greatest success. Whenever he had a bad day, depressed by the endless parade of damaged, abused humanity and he got the urge to pack it all in he just spent some time with Freya, revelling in how happy she was, how well adjusted and content with life. Then he’d roll up his sleeves and plunge back into the fray. She gave his life meaning and he’d wring that bastard Docherty’s neck before he let him hurt her.

Hughes was amazed by their prisoner’s transformation. As they’d left Blair Dubh Mandy had calmed right down, staring out of the window serenely, flashing him the occasional stunning smile and he found himself smiling back.

“This is all a big misunderstanding,” she said sweetly. “I only wanted to scare Freya, she’s taken so much from me.”

“You stabbed her,” barked Gary from the front.

“I didn’t mean to. She moved just as I came up behind her.”

“You stabbed Craig in the woods,” added Steve, who was driving.

“Wasn’t me,” she cheerfully replied.

“Yeah, right,” said Steve.

“I’m an innocent woman,” she said, voice cracking, tears welling in her eyes. She flapped her cuffed hands before her face, which was swollen and bruised from Freya’s fists. At a calculated moment she crossed her legs, her already short shorts riding up her thighs and Hughes’s eyes bulged. “Freya has destroyed my life and she’s still doing it,” she sobbed.

“What a load of bollocks,” muttered Gary.

“PC Reid you will refrain from using such language in front of a lady,” chided Hughes.

“That’s no lady. She tried to kill Freya after making her life a misery and she’s going down for it.”

“There’s two sides to every story and I think it’s time Miss Allan’s was heard,” said Hughes.

“Jeezo,” huffed Gary, scowling out of the window.

When a call came through about a car accident on Irvine Road Hughes told them to respond.

“We’ve got a prisoner,” protested Steve, “and we need to get her checked out at the hospital after the pounding Freya gave her.”

“That was great,” smiled Gary.

“PC Reid I will not tell you again,” said Hughes. “You are acting very unprofessionally. Now hit the siren. You two can deal with the accident while I interview Miss Allen.” As Hughes spoke his eyes flicked to Mandy’s thighs then slid up her body.

“She’s a dangerous prisoner,” said Steve.

“Don’t be ridiculous. You’ll behave, won’t you Miss?”

“Of course I will,” she smiled. “And please call me Mandy.”

“Mandy,” he replied dreamy-eyed, making Gary tut.

“Looks like a nasty one,” said Steve as they approached the scene of the accident. A black Audi had smashed into a small white car on the opposite side of the road and shunted it into a hedge.

“When will people learn not to overtake in stupid places,” sighed Hughes. “Find the driver of the Audi, if they’re still breathing, and do them.”

Steve parked up and the two constables jumped out, slamming the doors shut so hard the car rocked and Hughes scowled at their retreating figures.

“I do apologise for that pair Miss Allen,” began Hughes.

“Mandy,” she purred.

“Do excuse me, Mandy. How did you come to be in Blair Dubh?”

“I came to put all this nonsense with Freya to rest. She keeps accusing me of stalking her when in truth it’s the other way around. She’s mad, she thinks there’s still something going on between me and Craig. I keep telling her Craig’s very sweet but it’s over. She never listens. She attacks me then says it was the other way around. I don’t know what to do,” she said, more crocodile tears spilling down her cheeks. “She’s making my life a misery and I came here hoping I could talk to her and Craig and sort it out once and for all. As usual she wouldn’t listen. She went mad and I was forced to pull a knife to defend myself.”

“Why were you carrying a knife in the first place?”

“I’ve been camping out and I use it for cutting wood. It’s a practical tool, I never intended to use it on a person but you’ve seen how violent she is, look at my face.”

“Those bruises do look nasty.”

“They are. Do you know she has a history of violence?”

“No,” he frowned.

“She was locked up for assault, attacked some poor woman in a nightclub. She’s not fit to be on the streets but she’s clever. She wants me put away so she won’t feel threatened by me anymore. I mean, I’m not one to brag but look at her then look at me.”

“There is quite a contrast,” he smiled.

“At last, someone who understands,” she exclaimed. “I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to meet someone who actually listens to me.”

“I like to think I’ve got an open mind,” he said proudly. She batted her eyelashes at him and he positively beamed.

She leaned forward to pat his knee. “You are a very nice man Sergeant Hughes.”

Nervously he cleared his throat. “Call me George, please.”

“George, what a strong masculine name,” she said, sidling up to him, closing the gap between them. “I feel safe with you George.”

“I…I’m glad you feel that way Miss…I mean Mandy,” he stammered. “I think a serious miscarriage of justice has occurred and I assure you I will do all in my considerable power to see it put right.”

Her hand slid higher up his thigh, his eyes widening as it continued on towards his crotch. “I really appreciate that George. There must be something I can do to show you my appreciation.”

He swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry. It wasn’t often he was so close to a woman, especially one as phenomenal as this. Even with her bruises she was incredible. He thought there must be some truth in her story, he couldn’t imagine any man knocking her back.

She removed her hands from his leg and he appeared disappointed.

“These handcuffs are so painful,” she said, lower lip trembling. “Look at my wrists, they’re bruised.”

“I’m so sorry Miss,” he said, appalled to see marks on the tender white flesh.

“They’re so restricting too. How can I move my hands properly without them,” she said, her fingers brushing the top of his thigh again.

“I’ll…I’ll remove them, we can’t have you in pain.”

“Thank you George, you are too kind.”

As he unlocked the cuffs Mandy glanced out the window and saw the other two officers were being kept busy redirecting traffic and trying to get the ambulance through the tailback.

“Better?” he smiled, removing the cuffs.

“Much, thank you George. It feels so good to be able to move freely again,” she smiled.

While her left hand kept Hughes occupied, his eyes riveted to her long white fingers half an inch from his crotch, her other hand crept up to his utility belt, closing over the end of the baton.

“I suppose you could…,” he began.

When the baton connected with the side of his head he was knocked unconscious and fell to one side. Mandy checked the window again to make sure the other two were still busy, which they were, so she rolled Hughes into the footwell on his front and tethered him with the limb restraints from his own belt, wrapping one around his legs and the other around his wrists, binding his hands behind his back then used the attachment to join them together. She smiled with satisfaction. There was no way he was getting out of that and with the noise of all the car engines his colleagues wouldn’t hear him shouting when he woke.

“As if I’d ever be attracted to you, you ugly pig,” she hissed.

Mandy opened the door and ducked down the side of the car, closing it as quietly as she could. She waited until both officers had their backs turned to her then she vaulted the hedge and ran through a field. They’d only been driving a few minutes, they couldn’t be far from Blair Dubh. All the jogging had paid off because it meant she flew through the fields, following the road back the way she’d come, only having to pause a couple of times to scale fences.

This time she wouldn’t make the mistake of trying to kill Freya in front of Craig. If she hadn’t wanted to extract what he really felt from him Freya could have been dead by now. But he’d said it, he really wanted her. The hard bit was done. Now she just had to kill Freya and they would be back together and everything would be perfect. She’d grown bored of waiting for the bald man to make his move, he seemed to be more concerned with petty vandalism than any decisive action. If you wanted a job done properly, get a woman to do it.

Docherty had watched the circus from an elevated spot outside the church and it had been torture. For one horrible moment he’d thought the redhead - who he assumed was the same woman he’d seen crouching in the graveyard with the knife - was going to kill Freya, but she’d fought back and seen her off. Actually she’d kicked the living shit out of the woman although she’d had a knife to her throat and Docherty felt a begrudging respect. It seemed she hadn’t forgotten what she’d learned on the streets. He became aroused at the thought of taking her on. No matter how hard she’d tried she’d never been able to beat him and she still wouldn’t. The time to strike had come, after that experience with the madwoman she would probably want to leave the village as soon as possible but he couldn’t get to her yet, she’d gone into her mother-in-law’s cottage with Supercop.

He sighed and lowered the binoculars. Now it was a waiting game. He would remain up here and watch the house. When she left he would make his move then he would leave this awful village and head back to Glasgow to finish off DCI Gray.