Time for the Dead Read online

  ‘Yeah. Let’s get a woman killed, so we can get our man.’ Janice shot him a look that suggested Ellie wasn’t working hard enough on his feminist transformation.

  McNab couldn’t bring himself to say sorry, but tried to look it nonetheless. Thankfully his mobile rang at this precise moment.

  ‘Sergeant MacDonald, thanks for getting back to me.’ He gestured to Janice that it was a call from Skye, and made himself scarce. ‘Well?’ he said, once out of earshot.

  ‘Dr MacLeod was right. Something did happen. Enough to embed the skin from someone’s skull in a tree trunk.’

  McNab found himself mightily relieved at the news that Rhona wasn’t imagining things.

  ‘Rhona asked me to send the evidence to Chrissy for processing.’

  ‘Any sign of the victim?’

  ‘None. We’ve checked the local hospitals and Inverness Raigmore for any recent head injuries and got nothing. Rhona suggested we check Glasgow.’

  ‘I can do that,’ McNab offered, glad he could take on any role in the Rhona-inspired investigation.

  ‘Severe scalp abrasions, blond hair. Chrissy will have blood and scalp samples as soon as.’

  ‘So, you could be looking for a body?’

  ‘More blood was found near vehicle tracks at the suspected exit point from the woods.’

  McNab imagined for a moment the area that might have to be covered if they were looking for a body. The Orkney island of Sanday had been bad enough, and it was flat and a manageable size, plus no one could get on or off without it being noted.

  Skye was an island, but way bigger, and with a bridge to the mainland. Still, if it was anything like Sanday, local folk were a good resource for anything suspicious happening.

  ‘No word of anything locally that might have led to this?’ McNab tried.

  ‘Not so far.’

  As he rang off, McNab’s immediate and cheering thought was that Rhona was back at work.

  17

  On moving through to the bar after their meal, they’d discovered Jamie seated with the big collie next to the fire.

  ‘Blaze is my forensic assistant,’ Rhona explained, after introducing Alvis. ‘It was Blaze who drew my attention to the locus in the first place.’

  ‘And I heard you found something?’ Jamie said.

  ‘From Donald and Matt?’ Rhona said.

  ‘From several people, including Archie McKinnon, who captured you and Blaze via his drone. You were apparently approaching the road with what looked like a full rucksack.’

  ‘I was spied on by a drone?’ Rhona said, wide-eyed.

  ‘Archie’s gathering aerial views for the Skye tourist website. You just happened to emerge from the woods as his drone was heading for home. He checked with Donald and was told what you were up to.’ Jamie was laughing. ‘And now everyone knows your real occupation, Dr MacLeod.’

  ‘If folk are aware that something happened in the woods, maybe we’ll find out who was in there,’ Rhona said.

  ‘If it was locals, I suspect the word will be out soon,’ Jamie said. ‘I assume you can’t discuss what you found?’

  ‘You assume right.’

  Alvis, perhaps to back her up on this, swiftly changed the subject. ‘Have the police located the elderly man who was missing? Jake Ross, I think Sergeant MacDonald said his name was?’

  Jamie’s face clouded over. ‘Not yet. Old Jake’s done this before but he’s usually been picked up by now.’ He glanced at the window as another flash of lightning briefly lit up the darkness. ‘He’s unlikely to survive a night out in this. Lee’s got together a search team. I’m out with it first thing tomorrow with the Mountain Rescue Team and the helicopter.’

  Almost in unison, Alvis and Rhona asked if they could join the MRT.

  ‘Sure thing. Blaze will be there. Won’t you, boy?’ he said, ruffling the collie’s ears.

  Rhona felt her mobile vibrate in her pocket. She hadn’t expected a response from Chrissy tonight but there was always a chance. Checking the screen, she saw it was Lee.

  ‘Rhona? I see your jeep’s still in the square. I take it you’re at the Isles?’

  ‘I am.’

  ‘Just to tell you there’s been an accident on the A851 and the road’s currently blocked. Lochaber and Skye Police Twitter account is posting updates.’

  ‘Thanks, Lee.’ She mentioned tomorrow’s search.

  ‘I’d appreciate your help. We hope to find Jake alive, but if not, having you early on the scene to record the circumstances would be good.’

  As she rang off, Donald appeared from the back and repeated what she’d just learned.

  ‘Road to Armadale’s closed until further notice. It’s up on Twitter.’

  ‘Lee’s just phoned to warn me,’ Rhona told him. ‘Is there a room vacant here by any chance?’

  ‘Sorry, as far as I know we’re full of French, Americans—’

  ‘And Italians,’ Rhona finished for him.

  Alvis looked flustered for a moment, and Rhona realized he might well be about to suggest she take his room, so she turned to Jamie.

  ‘D’you still have that spare room you offered?’

  ‘I do, and it’s yours if you need it.’

  Rhona avoided looking at Donald, knowing her swift request, just as quickly agreed to, would probably further fuel the speculation that she and Jamie were an item.

  ‘You can leave the jeep here,’ Jamie said. ‘I’m only along the road.’

  ‘Which means I can now drink something stronger.’

  18

  A text to Chrissy had established that she would meet him at the jazz club after work, but only briefly.

  McNab was aware that Chrissy’s mother looked after his namesake, wee Michael, and that Chrissy was always home in time to put him to bed. He thought, not for the first time, of his godson, and how close to death he’d been that night outside the Glasgow casino.

  The memory always brought a sharp pain to McNab’s back, as though the bullet he’d taken while shielding a pregnant Chrissy might still be in there.

  Since Ellie had inked a skull over the scar, McNab would imagine the bullet shattering the skeleton head. He wondered sometimes if this was his subconscious reminding him that he should never have got the biker tattoo in the first place.

  Pushing open the door of the jazz club, he headed downstairs. The place was busy with after-work drinkers, but he soon spotted Chrissy in her usual place at the bar.

  McNab had never hit on Chrissy, nor she on him. It seemed the best male–female relationships were formed in such a way. Or so Chrissy often reminded him.

  ‘Rhona’s back on the job,’ she said with a smile. ‘There was an evidence delivery at the lab.’

  ‘Sergeant MacDonald told me.’

  ‘He’s your spy in the Skye camp?’

  ‘Him and now Norwegian Inspector Alvis Olsen,’ McNab said with an accusing look.

  ‘He called to say he was coming back to Scotland. I told him why Rhona wasn’t here to speak to him,’ Chrissy said defiantly.

  ‘Did you suggest he went to Skye?’

  ‘No, but I hoped he would. He and Rhona faced some real shit together.’ Chrissy glared at McNab. ‘He might be the one to persuade her to come home,’ she said hopefully. ‘And now that she’s working again . . .’ She tailed off, a question in her eyes.

  ‘I have the feeling Dr MacLeod prefers island life, and her friends there.’

  Chrissy was examining his expression, unsure if he was joking or not.

  ‘Maybe it’s that bloke Jamie she was pally with back in the day.’ McNab paused for effect. ‘Let’s face it, things haven’t been great with Sean since . . .’ He halted, trying to look suitably worried, which he undoubtedly was.

  ‘Fuck. Rhona has to come back and soon. Or I need to find another job.’

  ‘What’s wrong with Derek? He seems an okay guy.’

  Chrissy bit back whatever she was about to say about Rhona’s temporary replacement. ‘What the h
ell do we do?’

  ‘If you went out there,’ McNab ventured, ‘Rhona might be more likely to come back.’

  ‘If she thinks I’ve come to persuade her?’ Chrissy didn’t look convinced. ‘You know what she’s like.’

  ‘Well, let’s hope they do find a body in suspicious circumstances. Then you have the perfect excuse.’ Even as he said this, McNab was conscious that he’d now wished death on two people in order to achieve his current desires – the identification of the Sandman and Rhona back in Glasgow and on the job. But catching a thoughtful look in Chrissy’s eye, he decided he’d sown the seed of her possible trip to Skye and would have to await its hopeful germination.

  ‘Okay, I’m off,’ Chrissy said, glancing at her watch.

  McNab said his goodbyes, then called the barman over. There was someone else he needed to speak to. As he was served his order, he asked if Sean Maguire was about.

  The Irishman doesn’t look so good, McNab thought as Maguire slid onto the stool beside him. They exchanged greetings. Always guarded, even more so now, since the sin-eater affair.

  Maguire had acknowledged McNab’s role in helping Rhona in her darkest hour, but hadn’t forgiven him for his other transgressions.

  God, we Catholics don’t half do guilt well.

  Maguire nodded to the barman and two measures of whisky slid along the bar to them.

  ‘Sláinte,’ Maguire offered.

  McNab took him at his word, and chinking glasses returned his offer of good health.

  ‘I assume you’ve heard from Rhona?’ Maguire was saying.

  ‘We keep in touch regularly via Skype. The boss insists on it,’ McNab added as though it had nothing to do with him. He waited, wanting to ask if Maguire had heard from her, but not sure whether the enquiry would be welcomed or answered in the affirmative.

  ‘I haven’t heard from her,’ Maguire said, after swallowing the whisky. ‘Not yet anyway.’

  McNab nodded, aware that showing sympathy would not be welcome.

  ‘Have you tried calling?’ McNab tried.

  ‘She asked me not to,’ Maguire shot back at him. ‘When she left for Skye. I’m respecting her wishes.’ A sharp edge of pain crossed his face as he gestured to the barman that they would have a refill.

  ‘She attended the counselling session the boss set up for her.’ McNab offered what might be a crumb of comfort, although he already knew that Rhona hadn’t stayed long enough with the doc for a meaningful interchange.

  He thought back to his own experience with trauma counselling after the shooting. How unwilling he had been. The only reason he’d gone through with it was because he had to, seeing that he was holed up in a police safe house and couldn’t avoid the psych visits.

  Who could blame Rhona for not wanting to relive her own experience?

  ‘There’s something Rhona isn’t telling me.’ Maguire eyed McNab. ‘About what happened to her that night. I know that much.’ He said this as though he suspected McNab was aware what that might be.

  ‘You know what I know,’ McNab declared, hoping that was true, but suspecting it might not be.

  Maguire was sampling his refill. McNab had a sudden and overwhelming desire to tell him not to drown himself in drink, but that would be way too ironic, even for him.

  Noting McNab hadn’t yet touched his whisky, Maguire said with a wry smile, ‘I see you’re on the wagon?’

  ‘Trying.’

  Maguire drew McNab’s glass towards himself. ‘Better not tempt you then. How’s Ellie?’

  ‘Fine,’ McNab said.

  Maguire finished both McNab’s whisky and his own. ‘I’m on shortly, so we’ll say goodbye, Detective Sergeant.’

  As Maguire stood up, McNab said, ‘It seems Rhona’s back on the job. Doing some work for Skye and Lochaber police.’

  That caught Maguire by surprise. ‘You think she’s planning to stay there?’ He looked worried.

  ‘I doubt it,’ McNab said cheerily. ‘Not enough criminal activity to keep her busy.’

  Maguire was watching him, aware there was something else he wanted to say.

  ‘It’s a good sign, though,’ McNab went on. ‘And Chrissy’s planning a trip out there. If anyone can get Rhona to come home, it will be Chrissy.’

  Maguire gave him a lopsided smile. ‘And all the time I thought it would be you, Detective Sergeant.’

  19

  ‘Coffee or a nightcap?’

  ‘Maybe both?’ Rhona said.

  ‘Talisker good?’

  ‘Perfect.’

  Rhona sat back in the sofa next to the fire. Her decision to spend the night at Jamie’s had seemed an even better idea during the short but wild walk back to his place, although there had been little choice with the road to the cottage still closed.

  Despite her recent time spent in Jamie’s company she hadn’t until now visited him at home. In fact he hadn’t invited her to do so. Just mentioned he had a spare room if she ever needed to stay in town. Rhona wondered, as he disappeared into the kitchen to make the coffee, how she would have responded if Jamie had made a move.

  They had joked with Donald and Matt about she and Jamie as wild teenagers together. It wasn’t strictly true, although there had been feelings between them back then. A teenage romance even, but she was never going to stay on the island and Jamie was never going to leave. Since she’d returned, Jamie had behaved towards her like a platonic friend, although Rhona didn’t think his feelings were that exactly. A more likely explanation was that Jamie believed that was the way she wanted to play it and was respecting her wishes.

  And he’ll continue to behave like that, until I give him cause to think otherwise.

  Through the open door to the kitchen, Rhona watched as he prepared the coffee and poured two generous measures of Talisker.

  As he re-entered with his tray, she found herself asking him why he’d never married.

  If Jamie was surprised by the sudden question, he didn’t show it. Setting the tray down on the coffee table, he handed Rhona a glass of whisky and offered her the water jug. Once she’d added a little to her glass, he did the same, then sitting alongside her, he gave his answer.

  ‘I almost did get married.’

  Rhona waited, hoping he would tell her why he hadn’t. After sampling the Talisker, he did.

  ‘Trina met someone else she liked better. They’re married now and living over by Plockton. They have a son, Finn.’ He met Rhona’s eye. ‘What about you?’

  She could have said, I’m married to my work, which was for the most part true, but she didn’t. Maybe it was the power of the Talisker, on top of the whisky she’d had in the pub. Or perhaps it was because it felt unfair not to answer Jamie’s question, as he had answered hers.

  ‘I got pregnant in my second year at university.’ She paused to collect herself. ‘That’s why I didn’t come back that summer. I didn’t tell my parents about the pregnancy or about my baby son, who I gave up for adoption.’

  Jamie didn’t look surprised, just thoughtful, as though she’d answered a question that had puzzled him for some time.

  ‘The guy you brought here that first summer after you went to university. The one with the sports car. Was he the father?’

  Rhona nodded. ‘Edward Stewart. When I discovered I was pregnant he wanted me to have an abortion. I wouldn’t. We didn’t last long after that.’ Rhona took another sip of whisky. ‘He found someone he liked better. He and Fiona have two teenage children.’

  ‘And your son?’

  ‘Liam Hope. I tried to find him, but in fact he found me.’ She remembered how freaked she’d been back then. How guilty she’d felt all those years at having given him up. ‘It wasn’t easy to meet him, but Sean was . . .’ She halted, realizing that having mentioned Sean’s name, she would have to explain more than just how good he’d been with Liam.

  ‘Sean?’ Jamie prompted gently.

  ‘Sean Maguire. He plays saxophone at the club Chrissy and I go to,’ she said, finding he
rself avoiding Sean’s actual role in her life.

  Now Jamie did look surprised. ‘You’re talking about Sean Maguire, the Irish saxophonist?’

  Rhona was used to people recognizing Sean’s name in Glasgow, but she hadn’t imagined he would be known on Skye.

  ‘You’ve heard him?’ she said.

  ‘He played here at the Aros Centre a few years ago. He’s very good. I think they’ve been after him to come back.’ Jamie paused for a moment, then seemed to decide to ask the question Rhona had been trying to avoid.

  ‘Are you and he an item then?’

  Rhona hesitated. ‘Sean and I have tried, on occasion, to live together, but . . .’ She ground to a halt.

  ‘It didn’t work out,’ Jamie finished for her.

  ‘No, it didn’t.’ Rhona chose to stop there. How could she explain, even to herself, the ups and downs of her relationship with Sean, especially the most recent reason for their split?

  Jamie, sensing her reluctance to go further, tried to lighten the situation.

  ‘We should have made an arrangement, you and I, that if we reached a certain age and no one else would have us, then we would rescue one another,’ he joked.

  ‘That may yet be necessary,’ Rhona said with a relieved smile that the subject was over.

  They fell quiet after that, but it was a comfortable silence, as though having confided in one another, they could go back to the way things had been.

  Minutes later, finishing her whisky, Rhona suggested she would like to head for bed.

  ‘Sure thing.’ Jamie sprang up and indicated that she should follow him upstairs.

  At the top of the narrow staircase was a small landing with three doors.

  ‘The middle one’s the bathroom,’ Jamie told her. ‘I’m on the left, you’re on the right.’ He opened the right-hand door for her.

  Rhona had no idea what to expect, but was quietly surprised by the obviously female bedroom.

  ‘My wee sister sometimes comes to stay,’ Jamie explained. ‘I keep it ready for her. If I didn’t I’d have hell to pay.’

  ‘Thank you. It’s great,’ Rhona said.