Time for the Dead Read online

  A number of fibs presented themselves to McNab at that moment, all of which he managed to avoid uttering.

  ‘Where, Sergeant?’

  ‘Ellie knew him already, sir. She offered him a place to stay, with support from social services,’ he added, as though it made the arrangement okay.

  As DI Wilson appeared to contemplate this, McNab had a strong feeling that the boss already knew the whole story – who from, he had no idea, although the thought did strike him that it might have been from Ellie herself.

  ‘And when were you getting round to telling me this?’

  McNab hummed and hawed in silence for a moment. Eventually he found some words.

  ‘That’s why I’m here, sir, to tell you what happened. Harry left me a message when he signed out of the discharge lounge. An eight-digit number. We think it’s a service personnel identification, which might be a lead to the Sandman’s operations.’

  This pronouncement, which had come out of his mouth unexpectedly and which he had never intended to make, now hung in the air between them.

  The boss, who never reacted without thinking, said nothing for a moment, then, ‘You think the Sandman may have a service personnel set-up?’

  ‘It’s a possibility, sir,’ McNab said, although the thought had only just entered his head. ‘McArthur was a serving soldier, probably discharged for using while in Afghanistan. What if he was doing more than just using when out there?’ McNab said, warming to his theme.

  The boss had already moved to the window and was looking out over his beloved Glasgow.

  ‘So, the Sandman could be bringing it in via army personnel.’ He began to think out loud. ‘It’s happened in the USA. Returning troops bringing in drugs and money from war zones, hidden in returning equipment and vehicles. The mess in Afghanistan has been going on under the radar forever. Never on the news. Too embarrassing for the government to admit or reveal. It’s as big as, or even bigger than, the human trafficking we’re having to deal with.’

  ‘Yes, sir,’ McNab felt obliged to say.

  ‘And the Skye victim?’

  ‘Paul Watson, probable associate of Malcolm Stevenson. Previously jailed for dealing, sir.’

  ‘By you, when you were a DI,’ the boss reminded him.

  McNab was sorry he’d let the boss down, but the truth was he was glad he wasn’t a DI any more. No more focusing on the rules. If he hadn’t dropped down a rank, he’d have probably left the force altogether. Under a cloud, no doubt.

  Which I might yet manage to do.

  ‘As I recall, he had a foothold in Skye? So why was he back there?’

  It was a question McNab had been asking himself since Janice had revealed the DNA results. McNab had a sudden thought that he might indeed be on his way to Skye. In that, however, he was to be proved wrong.

  ‘Find out who owns that service number, Detective.’

  ‘If it’s a serving soldier, we’ll need MOD permission to access their records,’ McNab said.

  ‘Which you will have.’ DI Wilson eyed him from the other side of his desk. ‘Locate Harry McArthur and bring him in. DS Clark will go with the MIT to Skye.’

  McNab felt a distinct and probably obvious relief that he wasn’t heading for that helicopter ride, although the downside of not going to Skye was not seeing Rhona again. Glancing up, he found the boss’s eyes squarely upon him.

  ‘I would have liked you to report back on Rhona’s progress, but we must rely on Chrissy to do that for the moment.’

  Although it was obvious by the final nod that he was being dismissed, there was one more question McNab felt compelled to ask.

  ‘I wondered, sir . . .’ He hesitated.

  ‘You wondered what, Sergeant?’

  Was that an amused glint in the boss’s eye or merely the dawning of an icy rage?

  ‘I wondered if Ellie was in touch with you directly about her offer of a place to McArthur?’

  ‘She was not. Now go, Sergeant.’

  A few pairs of eyes followed him as he made his way to his desk, wondering what the interchange they’d no doubt viewed through the glass had been all about.

  McNab sat for a moment, pondering his next move. He hadn’t yet told Ellie of Harry’s disappearance and since she hadn’t contacted the boss directly, chances were she didn’t know about it . . . yet.

  He’d already contemplated spinning Ellie the yarn that they were keeping Harry in hospital for another couple of days. Then she wouldn’t worry while he was trying to locate him.

  That would be the easy way out.

  But if anything bad happened to Harry in the interim, it would, McNab acknowledged, be a difficult place to extract himself from with Ellie.

  At the onset of their relationship, they’d promised to be honest with each other. Or at least Ellie had, regarding in particular whether she might choose to have sex with someone else. Even recalling that conversation made McNab squirm a little in his seat. He’d agreed to it, pretty sure that he would not seek sex elsewhere when he had Ellie in tow. However, as a policeman and a detective, he couldn’t see how he could be frank in every answer he gave Ellie, in particular when the question had anything to do with police business.

  And Prince Harry fell into that category, without a doubt.

  But, if he was truthful, the real reason he didn’t want to admit that Harry had gone missing from the hospital was because it was his fault entirely. Although McNab feared she wouldn’t let him take full responsibility for that, since she’d been as keen this morning as he had. Ellie, he knew, would likely take some of the blame on herself. And that blame would be linked in her mind with the sex. Added to that, if Harry wasn’t staying in her flat, then she would undoubtedly move back there.

  McNab’s final thought before he phoned Ollie rested on Rhona. Word had come to him about what had happened in the forest. The PTSD psychosis Rhona had likely been experiencing, McNab knew only too well. He’d punched a few walls in his time and there were marks in the flat to prove it.

  But somehow he’d never imagined Rhona doing the same. Alvis had been unapologetic about telling him.

  ‘Does Chrissy know?’ McNab had immediately asked.

  ‘I thought it better not to tell her. With Chrissy, Rhona performs at her most natural. I think this is because she knows that Chrissy believes in her, and does not doubt that engaging with work is her route back to well-being.’ Alvis had paused there, before finally offering, ‘I head home soon, so . . .’

  ‘I’ll keep on Skyping her,’ McNab had assured the Norwegian detective. ‘Whether she likes it or not.’

  46

  The sky had grown increasingly heavy, signalling what the old man in Skeabost had told her. Snow was on its way again. When he’d said this, she’d had to stop herself from smiling. Snow, she would welcome. She would survive a snowstorm just as she had the sandstorms.

  She would huddle in her emergency shelter like she had inside the blue prison. But out here there would be no guards to visit her, no one thrust into her cell, head encased in a sack. No black scorpion waiting in a stone wall.

  The story he’d concocted about that night in the birch woods had been almost believable, even to her. And the guys had swallowed it without question. Or maybe that’s just what they wanted to believe, because it removed the guilt from them and anchored it onto her.

  She’d been suppressing the memory, but it surged up on her now with a vengeance. The darkness, the smell, her decision not to wait, as Sugarboy had instructed, but to turn and run from him. That had been a mistake, a terrible mistake. She sank to the boggy ground, curling up, making herself as small as possible, her eyes closed.

  And she was running again in the dark, ducking through the trees and into the clearing. She’d barely stopped to catch her breath and he was on her. In her panic, she’d lost Sugarboy, and the plan so carefully nurtured had become something else entirely.

  When she opened her eyes again, she found herself staring into a glistening spider’s w
eb, spun between the winter heather. And there she was, the little fly struggling to free itself, while ever closer the spider came. Reaching out, she broke the cobweb, scattering the threads, freeing the fluttering fly. Then rising, she checked out exactly where she was.

  The light was fading fast. She would have to make a night stop soon, but she wanted to be well away from the nearest road and any evidence of civilization before she set up camp.

  47

  As soon as she was in range of Portree, Rhona pulled into a passing place and gave Chrissy a call.

  ‘You haven’t lost the dog?’ Chrissy said immediately, only partly in jest, Rhona thought.

  ‘As if,’ Rhona retorted. ‘And we’re on our way into Portree now. Lights were out at Target Sports, so I assume Donald’s in Portree too?’

  ‘Donald’s at work in the Isles and I’m at the station, awaiting an update on the MIT’s arrival.’ Chrissy’s voice held a note of excitement.

  ‘Do we know who they’re sending?’ Rhona said a little guardedly.

  ‘Not McNab,’ Chrissy promptly offered, ‘although I thought it would be him, seeing as the dead guy was a catch of his. They’re sending DS Clark.’

  Rhona was pleased to hear that. She liked Janice Clark and thought her a steady partner for the wayward McNab.

  ‘So why not McNab?’ she found herself asking.

  ‘Not sure, but Janice will tell all when she arrives. So,’ Chrissy added, ‘where did you go for your doggie walk?’

  Was that suspicion Rhona heard in Chrissy’s voice? If it wasn’t, it would be a first.

  ‘Can we meet in the production room?’ Rhona said. ‘There’s something I want to show you.’

  By the time Rhona drew up in the square, the promised snow had arrived, light swirling flakes that immediately melted on the warm windscreen. Blaze jumped out, and with a goodbye lick, headed for the Isles. Rhona waited until the collie was safely inside before crossing to the police station.

  ‘So,’ Chrissy said, closing the production room door behind them. ‘What do you want to show me?’

  Rhona brought up the image on her mobile that she’d taken of the contents of Seven’s bag.

  ‘What am I looking at?’ Chrissy said, interested.

  ‘Mementos of Afghanistan, I think.’

  Chrissy’s questioning look grew more serious as she studied the photograph Rhona had taken in the tent.

  ‘Fuck’s sake,’ she muttered. ‘Is that a real scorpion?’

  ‘I believe so. They’re pretty common in some Afghan provinces. Worth lots of money now to those who catch them.’

  ‘And the metal disc. Is it a service tag?’

  ‘No service details so not a human tag. I wondered if it might have come from a combat dog called Rex.’

  ‘I suppose that’s a possibility.’ Chrissy made a face. ‘That looks like dried blood on it.’

  ’I believe it is.

  Chrissy had moved to study the blue mesh. Expanding the image, she suggested, ‘Could that possibly be the eye window of a burka?’

  ‘You’re right,’ Rhona said, realizing that was the answer that had eluded her.

  ‘All of these things,’ Chrissy said, ‘look like bad memories. Things that must haunt her. Why keep them with her all the time?’

  ‘Maybe she keeps them to remind her of her own survival?’ Rhona said quietly.

  Chrissy reached out and took Rhona’s hand, and in that light squeeze Rhona knew she was being reminded that she too was a survivor.

  Rhona cleared her throat. ‘There’s something else in the picture.’

  ‘What am I missing?’

  ‘Take a look at the chain attached to the tag.’

  Chrissy expanded the image.

  ‘Recognize it?’ Rhona said.

  Chrissy shook her head. ‘No. Should I?’

  Rhona brought up an image of the necklace they’d found on the clifftop to compare it to and Chrissy’s eyes opened in surprise. ‘The pattern does look similar, but that doesn’t mean it’s from the same chain.’

  Rhona nodded. ‘I know. If I could have brought it in, we could have compared them properly.’

  There was a moment’s silence while Chrissy considered how all this had come about.

  ‘You went looking for the Seven girl again? And, by the looks of these pictures, you rifled through her belongings, since I can’t imagine her spreading them out on her groundsheet for you to admire.’

  That pretty well summed it up, so Rhona nodded.

  ‘She’d gone, heading I think for MacLeod’s Tables, although she left the campsite as though she was still staying there. Her food and cooking gear, her sleeping bag and these items were all inside the tent.’

  A light dawned in Chrissy’s eye.

  ‘That’s why you took the dog, in case you needed to follow her scent,’ she said with the hint of an accusation in her voice.

  ‘Blaze trailed her to the road near Skeabost, where the guy, Archie, who caught me on his drone camera, saw her board the bus for Glendale.’

  ‘So? She said they were planning on doing survival stuff.’

  ‘The camp was set up as though she was coming back,’ Rhona said.

  ‘Well then, she will be. Tomorrow most like.’

  Chrissy was talking sense, yet to Rhona’s mind it didn’t ring true.

  ‘Blaze knew her. I mean really knew her that first time. He was protective of her even then.’

  ‘Okay. What are you saying?’ Chrissy said.

  ‘I wondered if that was because she’d been in the clearing he took me to. That it was her blood Blaze detected.’

  As Chrissy absorbed this line of reasoning, Rhona quickly added, ‘And Archie said she had an injury to the back of her head, which she said she’d got from a falling branch during the lightning storm.’

  Chrissy waited, sensing there was more to come.

  ‘The location of the blood and scalp residue on the birch trunk was at her height,’ Rhona said.

  ‘So you think she was the one injured in the woods?’

  Rhona did think that, in fact was beginning to be sure of it.

  ‘Assuming that’s true, there is still nothing to suggest that what happened in the woods has anything to do with the body on the beach,’ Chrissy challenged her.

  True, and yet . . .

  ‘Jen Mackie detected cocaine in the soil sample we sent.’

  Chrissy considered that, and Rhona knew her forensic assistant was playing devil’s advocate, which was what she wanted.

  ‘Donald saw the guy in the toilet, remember? He was high and so probably were the others.’

  ‘For cocaine residue to be detected in the soil . . .’

  ‘There was likely more than just a little in the vicinity,’ Chrissy finished for her. ‘And you wondered at the onset if there might have been a stash there.’

  Rhona changed tack. ‘Paul Watson was known here as the Snowman.’ She repeated what Archie had told her.

  ‘Jeez. If the locals hated him that much . . .’ Chrissy said in a worried tone.

  ‘Maybe someone did help him over the edge,’ Rhona finished for her. ‘The footsteps you found . . .’

  ‘And we’re back with the necklace,’ Chrissy said. ‘Are you going to tell Lee about the chain?’

  If she did, she would have to tell him she’d been going through Seven’s private things, which sounded more like something McNab would do and which she would admonish him for. Maybe the sin-eater case had changed her in more ways than just the flashbacks.

  ‘Apart from the possibility of the Afghan necklace, there is no direct link between the medics and Paul Watson, and Lee will be focusing on the reason why Watson was here on Skye in the first place.’

  ‘True, but . . .’ Chrissy didn’t look convinced.

  ‘But what?’

  ‘You don’t usually give up that easily. If the necklace does belong to the girl, it would place her on that clifftop, which means she may know something without even realiz
ing it.’

  48

  This time, McNab did go by the cafeteria and, catching sight of Maria serving, waited until she was free.

  ‘What? Am no pretty enough fur ye?’ Derek, who also worked behind the counter, challenged him.

  McNab made a point of looking him up and down. ‘Naw, you’re not.’

  ‘Fair do’s,’ Derek grinned.

  Maria, who’d heard the interchange, now presented herself in front of McNab. ‘Buying for Ollie, I take it?’

  ‘What’s his current favourite?’ McNab said. ‘Apart from yourself.’

  She gave him the eye. ‘Are you saying he’s soft on me?’

  ‘Don’t tell me you don’t know that?’

  ‘He’s never said anything. Just helps me with my phone and social media stuff.’

  ‘He’s shy. You’ll have to help him.’

  She pondered that for a moment. ‘I like him,’ she said. ‘You can tell him that from me. So is it ring doughnuts again? He’s been buying the jam ones.’

  ‘Two jam ones it is then, and two coffees, mine is—’

  Maria cut him off, ‘I know, extra strong.’

  As McNab made his way to IT, he considered the possible pairing he was taking a hand in managing.

  ‘If only I was as successful in managing my own love life,’ he muttered to himself.

  He hadn’t been in touch with Ellie yet regarding Harry, and was saving it up for when they both got home later. If, however, Ellie took it upon herself to check her flat before then . . .

  McNab had the horrible feeling that’s exactly what Ellie might choose to do.

  Ollie didn’t catch his approach until the scent of the coffee reached his nostrils. McNab was glad to note that Ollie looked more welcoming than earlier.

  Maybe he’d found something.

  McNab set down the doughnuts and told Ollie the news on the Maria front.

  ‘She said that?’ Ollie’s big-eyed look got even bigger.

  ‘Tell him I said I like him,’ McNab repeated for maximum impact. ‘She also says she likes going to the Grosvenor cinema in Ashton Lane. I think she wants you to take her there.’

  Ollie’s delight at this was a pleasure to behold.