The Presence (13 page)

“Don't get any food!” Gina ordered.

Toni closed the refrigerator and looked at her. “Actually, I wasn't, but why not?”

“Because we should go on a picnic.”

“A picnic? Where?” she asked Gina carefully.

“Don't worry. I'm not going to drag anyone into the forest. I'm not sure where to go, but we'll find a meadow somewhere. With sheep.”

“And sheep poop!” David added cheerfully, coming on in behind Gina and taking a seat with them at the kitchen table. He grinned at Toni. “I've already told her, Kevin and I are in.”

“I guess it's just us,” Gina added. “Bruce is gone, and Thayer took off this morning.”

Toni looked at both of them quizzically. “You're not upset?”

“Upset?” David said, looking at Gina, frowning.

“About the bodies having been dumped in these woods, and about Bruce having made the discovery of one of them,” Toni said.

David shook his head. “As long as you and Gina don't…pick up the trade and go running around in the forest, no. I'm sorry, of course. And I understand now why Bruce is so weird about it. But no, I'm not upset.”

“We just need to be cautious,” Gina added. “Women usually need to be smart about what they're doing.”

Toni nodded. “Um. Good.”

“Are you upset?” Gina asked.

“No!”

“Are you coming on our picnic?”

Toni was quiet for a minute. “Mind if I beg out of it myself?”

“Why?” Gina asked, sounding a bit hurt.

“I'll leave it as a romantic outing for two couples,” Toni said.

“Hey, it's never like that,” David protested. “We're all friends.”

“But I'm still the odd man out when we're down to five.”

“We've been five lots! Last trip to Scotland, we were five. And the year before that,” Gina reminded her.

“You guys are all great. I didn't mean that I felt like the odd man—or woman—out when I'm with you. It's just that you should go alone. Besides, I want to go wander around the village a little,” Toni said.

Gina sighed and looked at David. “I guess it's just the four of us, then. And the sheep.”

He rolled his eyes at Toni. “Very romantic.”

“You'll love it,” she told him. “I know you
guys—you'll pack real plates and glasses, you'll sip champagne on a hillcrest, looking out over gorgeous hills and dales, and you'll have a great time.”

“I still don't understand why you don't want to go. We've been in the village,” Gina reminded her.

“Yes, but every time we've been in, it's been with a mission, buying things, getting to know the local hardware store. I'm going to explore like a tourist. They've a centuries-old church and an ancient graveyard… And you know me, I like to dawdle. You guys just get bored,” Toni told her.

“She wants to be an isolationist,” David said.

“You know you hate old churches and musty graveyards,” Toni reminded him.

“I always go to them.”

“Of course, you do. And then I feel guilty when I dawdle too long,” Toni said.

“The sheep are going to miss you,” he said.

“And I'll miss them, minus the sheep poop, of course,” Toni said.

 

Toni had planned on taking her time getting ready, but she discovered, to her dismay, that she found being alone in the castle somewhat unsettling—especially after Jonathan's revelations that morning. Grabbing her handbag, she ran down the stairs, anxious to get out.

One of their rental cars, a minivan, was parked out by the stables. Thayer must have taken the little BMW, she determined. But the van would be fine. Any vehicle would be fine.

She quickened her steps, surprised that she was in such a hurry to reach it. Yet, as she neared the car, she stood stock-still.

A scratching sound was coming from the stables.

Of course, there are horses in it, idiot!
she told herself.

But it didn't sound like the kind of noise a horse would make.

She hesitated, caught between the stable doors and the car.
What would make that kind of a noise? Someone stealing the horses?

She stood for a moment in indecision. If someone was stealing the horses, and she tried to stop them, she might well get hurt. No, the smart thing to do would be to get the hell out, go to town and get Constable Tavish to come back with her.

But as she stood there, the noise stopped suddenly.
She'd been seen.
Absurdly frightened by such a small thing, she started to hurry toward the car.

“Ah, Miss Fraser!”

She froze, then turned. Eban Douglas was standing in the shadowy doorway of the stables. The wizened little man was wearing his customary grin. An eerie grin, she decided.

“Eban!” she said, trying to sound cheerful. She didn't know why, but today, his presence made her uneasy.

“Seein' to the lads, I be,” he said, indicating the stables.

“Yes, thank you!” Toni said cheerfully.

“The rooone…he's lookin' a bit weathered.”

“Excuse me?” Toni said, then realized that he was saying “the roan.”

“Oh, well, Ryan will look in on him later,” she said.

“Y'don't want to give the boy a look yerself, miss?”

Go into the dark stables with only Eban around for miles? Not in a thousand years!

“Um…I'm afraid I wouldn't know if he was ailing or not, Eban. Ryan is the one who knows about horses. If you think he's really ill, though, we could call a vet?”

“I'd not feel right, mum, callin' in the doc withoot one of ye seein' to the boy.”

“Eban, trust me, you have my permission to do so,” she said. She felt as if he was pressuring her.
Pressuring her to go into the dark of the stables.
If he didn't look so strange, would she have thought anything of it?

Yes! Because women had been murdered around here. Their bodies had been found in the forest. And like it or not, this little man was weird!

Bruce MacNiall and Jonathan had done a fair job of scaring them all, she thought. Still, she wasn't going into the stables.

“Eban, I'm asking you to please call the vet out. And thank you so very much. I've got to get going.”

Whatever it was that unnerved her, she was hard put
not
to run to the car. With a forced smile and a friendly wave, she hurried her footsteps.

Old habits died hard. She raced for the left-hand door, then felt like a fool, remembering that she was in Great Britain.

She grimaced foolishly as he watched her, and walked around to the right door.

“Mind ye, keep yer eye on the roads!” Eban called to her.

“Yes, I will, thanks!”

In the car, she switched on the ignition and started down the rocky driveway. Angry with herself, she stopped the car near the point in the forest where they
had gone into the canopy to find the stream and wade in the water.

Her hands were shaking.

She put the car into Park, telling herself that she was being ridiculous. So much for priding herself on the fact that she didn't have a prejudiced bone in her body! Eban had frightened her—because he had such a strange look.

Then again, she didn't really know Eban. He was just…around.
Caretaking.
He'd helped them out several times when they'd been working. They'd seen him…and they hadn't seen him. Yet, when they hadn't seen him, he still must have been around, watching them.

She took a breath, ready to put the car back into gear, really beginning to feel a bit ridiculous.

Eban worked for Bruce MacNiall, keeping an eye on the castle. It would have been his job to report to MacNiall, they just hadn't known it.

Then something caused her to look toward the forest.

Bruce was there, on his huge black horse, right at the point where they had entered to reach the stream. She shaded her eyes from the morning sun, trying to get a better look at him. He was waving to her, beckoning, and he looked impatient.

“What?” she murmured aloud. “He insists we stay out of the forest, and there he is, waving me into it!”

And then, there had been Jonathan's words that morning….

Frowning, she got out of the car, wishing that she'd remembered her sunglasses. He waved again. The great black turned and went down the path.

“What the hell…?” she muttered aloud.

He'd disappeared down the trail, expecting her to follow.

“All right. Great!” she said. Maybe it was safe to go into the forest as long as she was with him. But he'd found one of the two bodies dumped in the forest! she reminded herself.

“I'm only going so far!” she said, and realized that she was still talking to herself. But even as she approached the first canopy of trees, she felt again the strange hesitance she had felt the day before. And she had been with a crowd of people then! And that was before she knew about the bodies!

This was insane. She shouldn't trust him. And yet…she did. Somewhere in her heart, she'd felt a deep unease regarding Bruce. But even as she'd felt it, some thing in her soul had rebelled.

And now, for some reason, she was compelled to follow him.

As soon as she came into the field of trees, she was blinded again, having gone from surprisingly bright sunlight to a dark expanse of green.

“Bruce!” she called out, irritated. “I am not coming any farther—”

He had dismounted and was in front of her again.

“Bruce, dammit!” she told him.

Come, please.

She thought he said the words softly, yet she questioned her own sanity because she wasn't certain that they had been real words.

She thought about just turning and running, but for the life of her right then, she couldn't do it. Nothing had changed. She had to follow. She was drawn.

“Stop, then, wait up for me!” she said, her words
angry. She was starting to feel like an idiotic teenager in a bad B horror movie, who's in the very spot where the maniacal killer always strikes.

But that was insane. Bruce was right in front of her. Sanity be damned. Instinct assured her that he'd never hurt her.

She didn't want to rely on instinct; she didn't want to dream. She never, ever wanted to admit that she hadn't shut down the visions that had haunted her with such vivid brutality…

“Bruce! Damn you, wait!”

But he wasn't waiting. And she couldn't turn back.

She started to hurry, walking quickly to catch up, stumbling slightly as she reached the soft, rocky embankment of the brook. She stubbed a toe and stopped, swearing. She rubbed her foot, really angry then, ready to tell him to go right to hell. Yet, when she looked up, he was nowhere to be seen.

And she had come much farther into the forest than she had imagined.

The trees seemed to be surrounding her, massive, so deeply green, in an eerie darkness. And there was a sudden hush all around her. No birds chirped, no insects buzzed.

It was as if the world was waiting.

“Bruce!” Her voice wavered, shocking in the stillness.

And then…

She had followed the trickle of the brook, but not even that sound seemed to be able to pierce the stillness. Ahead of her, water dashed and jumped over little rocks and fallen branches. She tried to remember playing in the water with her friends, how they had soaked one
another, how they had laughed. She tried, desperately, to keep that vision in her mind.

But she could not.

She saw the large, downed branches, the blanket of green that was oddly out of place on the water. It was out of place. It was a piece of the forest, yes, but…set as if by human hands.

No!
A voice inside her shrieked out.

Fear gripped her. The silence remained, as if all the forest, trees, bushes, fish, fowl, insects and even the air itself stood still and waited. And watched.

She knew, long before she actually found the strength to propel herself forward, what she would find. She knew, yet she didn't want to know. Then a calm settled over her and the blind fear abated.

She walked purposely, steadfastly forward and lifted the branch. It was heavy, heavier than she had expected. She dragged it but inches.

A scream formed in her throat, but it never left her lips.

Bones. She had found bones.

“A
h, a hill full of long grass and flowers, a delightful breeze and bubbly! What more could one ask?” Kevin said, leaning back on the blanket.

Ryan sipped his champagne, wishing that he could feel as relaxed as the others seemed to be.

“A beer, maybe. A Bud. Cold,” Ryan said.

“Aren't we grouchy,” David said.

Ryan shrugged and rose, stretching. “I wish Toni had come with us,” he murmured.

“Well, of course, I wish she'd come, too,” Gina said. “But…why?”

“I don't know. I guess I'm worried about her. Rambling around in that castle alone…and going to the village alone,” Ryan said. “Who knows what she's up to? Maybe she's asking too many questions…irritating people.”

Kevin laughed aloud. “Oh, my God, Ryan! You're making it sound like the Village of the Damned, or something of the like!”

He turned and looked at them. “Maybe it is.”

“Oh, Ryan! I thought you loved it here,” Gina said.

“I do.”

“Then…?” David demanded.

Ryan shook his head. A restlessness was sitting upon him. He gazed at Gina. She knew him, knew his moods, and she didn't look happy. She touched his arm. “We're out for a picnic with friends now, Ryan,” she said.

“Right.”

“And everything is going well—as well as can be hoped, under the circumstances,” David reminded him.

“Yeah, great! A tall guy on a fantastic, huge horse rides in and we discover we've been gypped out of our life savings. Then we find out that this same guy has found the body of a murder victim in the woods. And now Toni is alone at the castle. What if MacNiall returns before we do? We don't really know a whole hell of a lot about him,” Ryan finished.

“He's the laird,” David said.

“Yeah? And Countess Bathory sliced up virgins and bathed in their blood,” Ryan said.

Gina was staring at him hard. Warning him? he wondered.

“The laird has been damned decent,” David said.

“What? Do you think he'd chop us up in his own castle?” Ryan said.

“Oh, Ryan, stop! Please,” Gina begged.

“I like the guy, honestly like him,” David said. “And Ryan, you've been riding with him, have talked horses with him. You seemed to be his biggest fan.”

“Yeah, that's true. He came on like a warrior lord of old that first night, but, hey, we were in his castle. And he's damned good with horses. Sure, I like him,” Ryan said. “Respect him,” he added thoughtfully.

“Me, too. He demands a certain respect, but he's been damned decent to us,” Kevin agreed. “Look, he
probably wasn't even in the country when those girls disappeared.”

Gina shivered violently. “Maybe he wasn't, but…”

“But what?” Kevin demanded.

“Nothing,” Gina said. “Nothing, really.”

“I know what you were going to say,” David said, staring at Gina. “
We
were in the country, probably, during the time of…well, at least two of the disappearances.”

“What the hell does that mean?” Ryan demanded.

“It means I'm damned glad that we stick together,” David said. “That we watch out for Gina and Toni.”

“Well, it probably helps that we're not street walkers,” Gina said pragmatically.

“True,” David agreed.

“Hey, can we get back to the beauty of the day, the champagne and all that?” Kevin demanded.

Ryan was still tense, but he joined Gina on the blanket, sat back, closed his eyes and let his wife work the knots out of the muscles in his shoulders.

 

Toni could see the skull protruding from mud and rock, and bits of flesh, she thought, blackened by the soil. There was also a length of hair and pieces of cloth, all but glued or fused with the bone, or plastered to it by the mire, the very dark muck that formed on the banks of the little brook or stream.

Get away!
a voice of self-survival cried in her head.
Scream, just start screaming, and run as fast as you can!

And still, she didn't scream. There was no need to look farther. Whoever this victim had been, she had been here some time. There was certainly no need to feel for
a pulse, to attempt to drag her from the water. None at all.

Get away!
the voice repeated.

Yes! Now!

She thought that she would run then, able to scream and shriek at last, in the darkness of the eerie forest. But she didn't. Instead, she stayed, trying to ingrain every detail of the moment in her mind. It might be important.

The water was no more than two feet deep here, and the skeleton was lodged against a large rock. Until she had moved it, the huge branch had all but hidden the corpse. People could have walked right by without seeing it, for a very long time. How long had it been there? Had the rains carried it from elsewhere, or caused the earth to shift so that they were dug up after a long period of time?

She turned then at last, slowly. Running could cause her to trip on the underbrush and hurt herself. She was deep into the wood, having followed the brook quite far in her attempt to catch up with Bruce. But she didn't think she'd get lost. All she had to do was follow the water.

She didn't dare think about fear. Fear could cause panic. If there was one thing she didn't want, it was to fall, sprain an ankle and remain in the forest as darkness fell.

She'd been shouting before, convinced that Bruce was ahead of her; now she was silent, careful in her foot steps.

She still felt…watched. Yet, strangely, that sense didn't create a rise of…terror. The trees would not come
to life, branches like arms, and suck her into themselves. She was simply being watched as she left.

That woman had been hidden long before they'd come to Tillingham.

She kept her eyes looking forward, afraid of what she might see gazing out at her from the green darkness.

Straight ahead! Look straight ahead. Walk, don't run. Steady, steady, follow the brook, get out!

And at last…she did, emerging in the same area where she had entered.

She half expected her car to be gone, but it wasn't. And as she crawled into it, she realized just how frightened she'd been. Other bodies had been found in Tillingham Forest. Had she just stumbled upon the first of the killer's victims, perhaps? A woman never reported as missing? Someone lost to society, and then life?

Fear began to seep through her then, a very real fear. This was a killing ground. Yes, women were abducted from other places. But they were brought here.

Did that mean the killer knew this area very well? Knew that disposing of a body here meant that chances of discovery were small, or that this type of environment would play such havoc with a body that no clues would ever be left?

Her hands were shaking as she gripped the steering wheel, trying to decide what to do. It would be quickest to go back to the castle and call until she got some one on the line.

But Eban was at the castle! She felt a surge of hysteria at the thought of the man. Could he have done some thing like this?

He never seemed to leave. And if he did, she didn't think he ever went far.

But what if, when no one knew, he silently took a car and drove off, drove out to the big cities, where no one knew him. Where women who worked the streets for their income were accustomed to servicing men who were sometimes less than attractive?

Suddenly remembering that her cell phone was in her purse, she turned to scramble for it, only to hear a tapping at the driver's window.

Startled, she turned.

It was Eban. Face pressed far too close to the window. Macabre through the glass.

Fear, blind and, perhaps, unreasoning, let loose within her system and she let out a scream at last. She tried to twist her keys in the ignition, but they weren't there! Staring at the man, she fumbled on the seat for them. He backed away, looking puzzled.

She found the keys. After three tries, she got them into the ignition.

When she floored the gas pedal, he literally hopped away.

Without looking back, she sped all the way into the village.

 

Detective Inspector Robert Chamberlain was thirty-five, tall and wiry, with dark hair already showing signs of serious silver—brought on by his work, he had long ago told Bruce.

They had known one another forever, having met in the service. For a while they had worked for the Lothian and Borders Police in Edinburgh together, until Bruce had left and Robert had moved on. Throughout the years, they had remained friends. A year ago, when Bruce had found the body in the woods, he had been
appalled by the lack of technique displayed by Jonathan and his men upon their arrival at the scene. Granted, they had never dealt with such a situation before. But since they hadn't, the proper steps to take would have been to alert the authorities with more expertise. De spite the fact that Bruce had long ago left the police force, Robert often discussed cases with him. On occasion, he had been able to trigger the right hint, clue or information to help Robert solve a case. And both were now deeply concerned about the disappearing girls and the murders.

Robert sat with Bruce in a pub in Edinburgh close to the Greyfriar's churchyard where the famous Bobby—the terrier who came to his master's grave to sit vigil for a decade—now lay buried alongside the man to whom he had been so loyal. Robert looked particularly glum.

“Jonathan has told me that he's had men out,” Robert said, referring to the Tillingham constable. “They've combed the woods, but not discovered a body.” He ran his fingers through his graying hair. “'Tis difficult. So far, we've a woman missing for about a week, we think. In fact, she might well have disappeared just after you reached Edinburgh. I knew I needed you back here. And I'm grateful that you came.”

Bruce shrugged. “I was restless. Needed to come anyway,” he told Robert. “And, as it happens, it was a good thing I did return.”

Robert nodded. “With Annie we're just guessing. We don't really know when she disappeared, because none of her ‘friends' kept tabs on her.” He pushed the file on the table between them toward Bruce. “Annie O'Hara. Northern Irish, came over from Belfast about five years
ago. No known employment—legal employment, that is. She's been arrested three times in those years. Drug abuser, but not the haggard-looking desperate kind as yet. She was picked up twice working the Royal Mile, and both times she was released—you know how that goes. Anyway, one of her friends realized that she was gone after five days or so and reported her missing, but she had no idea how or when Annie disappeared.” He shrugged. “Who knows? She might have headed on back to Ireland, but since Helen MacDougal disappeared in like fashion a year ago, and was found by you, and then Mary Granger, just six months ago, and found by that fellow, Eban, in the forest, as well, I think there's a real possibility that Annie'll be found, too, and sadly, found deceased.”

“In the forest,” Bruce murmured bitterly.

Robert shrugged. “Maybe not. Maybe the killer will find a new place to dispose of the bodies.”

“Why would he bother? Jonathan Tavish isn't too concerned. He doesn't consider it his problem at all—because the women have disappeared from Glasgow, Stirling and now Edinburgh.”

“Well, he has a point in that the killer has to be operating out of the big cities.”

“We don't actually have a ‘red light' district in the village,” Bruce said. He was irritated with Jonathan, though. His old friend seemed to be more suspicious of his activities than worried about the fact that a real psychopath was on the loose, and probably growing more dangerous with each passing day. He'd run into him in the village, just before leaving. Apparently Jonathan had been looking for him, wanting to know if he'd lost his wallet recently, if there was any possibility that he might
be a victim of “identity theft.” Actually, he had to admit that Jonathan might have a point there. How else could he explain how his castle had wound up listed as being for rent. According to Jonathan, there was no Web site for the castle, and, thus far, the legitimate ones he had checked had never had a listing for the place.

Even seeking out the case of fraud, though, Bruce would have far more faith in Robert's knowledge—and, naturally, the fraud department of a major force—than he would in Jonathan. He understood Jonathan's resentment, but it didn't change the fact that Tillingham was small, and major crime was not a frequent event there.

“No. Of course, this is far more serious than Tavish is willing to admit,” Robert said. “I don't blame him for not using all his local funds to mount an inch-by-inch combing of Tillingham Forest, not when we've got a disappearance with no guarantee that any foul play happened to this woman.”

Bruce sat back, shaking his head. “The killer will return with his victim's remains to Tillingham. If we'd found just the one girl, then it might have been merely a convenient place for him to dispose of the body. But a second corpse discovered? He's using Tillingham as his personal refuse property, and he's going to keep at it. I even think there may be a ‘why' behind it.”

Robert shook his head. “Now, Bruce, y'are taking this far too personally. Tillingham is lush and deep. We've not got a thing on the killer yet because of the advanced stage of decomposition of the bodies by the time they were found. We don't have hair, fibers, semen, anything. There's nothing personal about the fact that the bloke is hiding his heinous crimes there. It simply
puts him in the classification of an organized killer, a fellow who thinks it out and knows how best to keep himself from being discovered.”

“I suppose I do take discarded bodies in what is very nearly my backyard personally,” Bruce agreed. “It means one of two very bad things. Either we have an organized psychotic on a methodical killing jaunt dumping bodies once he's had his jollies, or someone in that area knows that it's the perfect dumping site and is traveling farther from home for his victims.”