Dark Enough to See

by Katherine Pathak

  Dark

  Enough

  To See

  DCI Dani Bevan #11

  By

  Katherine

  Pathak

  The Garansay Press

  About the Author

  Katherine Pathak was born in Inverness, Scotland but spent her childhood in Essex. She worked as a History teacher for several years and before that in the book trade in London. Katherine has written the DCI Dani Bevan detective novels and the Imogen and Hugh Croft Mysteries series along with a standalone psychological thriller. Katherine lives in north Essex with her husband and children.

  Books by Katherine Pathak

  The Imogen and Hugh Croft Mysteries:

  Aoife’s Chariot

  The Only Survivor

  Lawful Death

  The Woman Who Vanished

  Memorial for the Dead

  (Introducing DCI Dani Bevan)

  The Ghost of Marchmont Hall

  Short Story collection:

  The Flawed Emerald and other Stories

  DCI Dani Bevan novels:

  Against A Dark Sky

  On A Dark Sea

  A Dark Shadow Falls

  Dark as Night

  The Dark Fear

  Girls of The Dark

  Hold Hands in the Dark

  Dark Remedies

  Dark Origin

  The Dark Isle

  Dark Enough to See

  Standalone novels:

  I Trust You

  This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, places, events and incidents are either the products of the author’s imagination or used in a fictitious manner. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, or actual events is purely coincidental.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced in any form or by any means - graphic, electronic, or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, taping or information storage and retrieval systems - without the prior permission in writing of the author and publishers.

  The moral right of the author has been asserted.

  © Katherine Pathak, 2018

  © Garansay Press, 2018

  #DarkEnoughtoSee

  Edited by: RP & The Currie Revisionists, 2018

  © Cover photograph Pixabay Images

  First published 2018

  Prologue

  November 2003

  Holly McGill slid another bottle of red from out of the wine-rack by her side. She handed it to her husband to uncork. It was a wordless ritual which had punctuated the entire evening.

  The sky outside the newly fitted windows, set within the thick stone walls of the cottage was jet black. The McGills saw no point in lowering the Roman blinds to keep out the night. The house was miles from anywhere. There was nobody around to look in.

  Richard McGill re-filled his guests’ glasses, leaning over the dining table to do so, continuing the conversation smoothly. “Of course, it isn’t the government’s fault this mess has happened. It was that idiot journalist who pretty much gave away the identity of his source. All in the name of boosting his public profile.”

  The man seated opposite him sipped from his newly refreshed crystal goblet. He eyed his host over the rim. “Gilligan was acting in the public interest, surely. Now an honourable scientist is dead. All to pursue a war which now appears entirely unjustified.”

  McGill sat back in his chair and puffed out his chest. “We’ve removed a nasty, crack-pot dictator. I’m not sure how anyone can argue that’s a bad thing.”

  Holly shook her mane of soft auburn hair with a sigh. “Can we please talk about something else? I’m so sick of this discussion. It’s like no one can think about anything else.”

  “It is rather important,” Mark Vogel added gently, his kind tone taking the rebuke out of his words.

  His wife took up a new line of conversation, “I want to know how you found this amazing place. No sooner than Mark had told me you’d bought it, we come here to find it’s been completely refurbished.” She cradled her glass in both hands, the platinum band of her weighty wedding ring causing the crystal to chime. “You must give us the number of your builders.”

  Holly crinkled her brow. “The work didn’t go completely without a hitch. The old place practically collapsed when Mike and his lads got started. The wooden beams were rotten through.”

  Anna Vogel glanced upwards at the strips of polished replacement oak that lined the vaulted ceiling of the kitchen extension. “Yes, but the end result is amazing.”

  Richard smiled. “Thank you, Anna.” He leaned across the table and took his wife’s hand. “We hope to be here for many years to come.”

  Mark lifted his glass. “I’ll drink to that. I just hope we’ll still see you in the office from time to time, Rick.” He raised his dark eyebrows jokily.

  Richard laughed. “Of course, I’ll enjoy taking the XJR down to the city a few times a week – see what it’s made of on those twisty, Highland roads.”

  “As long as you don’t end up in a smash, darling,” Holly added dryly. “The point of this move wasn’t for the picturesque commute to become your own private race track.”

  Richard lifted her hand to his lips. “I’m always very careful. I enjoy life these days too much not to be.” He cleared his throat and addressed their guests. “Now, are we ready for dessert? Holly has made a superb chocolate tart. It’s one of Nigella’s recipes.”

  The couple nodded enthusiastically.

  “Sounds lovely,” Anna said with a grin. “I’ve got all her books, but I’ve never actually made a single thing from them!”

  “The beauty of great marketing,” Richard commented cheerily. “We all want the delectable Nigella on our shelf, even if we can’t be arsed to cook her recipes.”

  Holly got to her feet. “I’ll put some coffee on too.”

  Mark grunted his approval. “I’d better sober up a bit before the drive home.”

  Anna gave her husband a sideward glance. There was no point in voicing her disapproval, she’d drunk as much as he had. The McGills were always so generous with their hospitality. It was difficult to refuse. And the wine was of such good quality, you hardly felt the effects at all whilst you were downing it by the glassful.

  “I’ll miss the fact we can’t stumble home from your place to ours anymore,” Mark added gruffly.

  “You’ll have to stay the night next time,” Holly called over her shoulder. “The guest suite will be completed by then. We’ll choose a weekend when Boris and Tania aren’t here.”

  “Oh, it doesn’t matter if they are,” Anna put in quickly. “I’d love to see them both. I bet they’ve really grown.”

  Richard snorted. “They certainly have. Eleanor lets them eat all sorts of crap.”

  “Come on darling,” Holly soothed. “We take them out for plenty of pizzas and burgers whilst they are here.”

  “That’s at the weekend,” he persisted. “But during the week they should be eating nutritious meals and being told to lay off the snacks.”

  “So, the tricky parts of parenting need to go on when you’re not the one having to do it,” Mark added with a laugh, slapping his friend on the back to take the sting out of his words.

  Richard’s posture stiffened. He didn’t appear amused.

  Anna was beginning to feel awkward. Eleanor had been her friend once, she should really be defending her. Richard’s first wife was an excellent mother, but the divorce had affected the children badly, no wonder they had taken to comfort-eating. Instead of saying anything on the subject, she pushed back her chair and joined Holly by the kitchen island. “Is there anything I can do to help?”

  The hostess raised her head to reply, but before she had a chance, her body jolted at the sou
nd of feverish knocking. The noise had suddenly reverberated through the cottage. Holly was taken by surprise. She’d only heard the huge brass knocker on the new door being used a few times, and then only softly. At maximum force, it was actually bloody deafening.

  Richard jumped to his feet. “Who the hell can that be?” He glanced at his watch. “It’s nearly midnight.”

  “Maybe someone’s got lost along the track. It’s easy enough to become disorientated in the dark,” Mark offered.

  Richard threw his friend a disdainful look. He’d not yet forgiven him for his previous comment.

  The knocking came again, this time it seemed even more urgent.

  “I’m coming, for Christ’s sake.” Richard kicked back his chair and disappeared into the hallway.

  Mark remained seated, picking up his wine glass and sloshing down the last of its contents. No one was speaking, each were straining to hear the muted conversation taking place out on the doorstep.

  Richard abruptly re-entered the room, muttering darkly, “he needs a bloody flashlight.” He proceeded to rummage in the bottom drawer of the tall, Victorian dresser before retrieving an object and striding out again.

  “They must have broken down,” Anna commented. “Or, perhaps they need to replace a tyre?”

  Holly glanced out of the window at the impenetrable blackness beyond. She wondered where anyone would be headed to out here in the middle of nowhere. There had been no sound of an engine, or the flash of a vehicle’s headlights.

  The feeling of dread tightening Holly’s stomach didn’t have time to develop. The crack of a single gunshot abruptly ripped through the cottage, robbing them of any previous thoughts.

  Holly and Anna instinctively dropped to their knees, placing their hands over their ears.

  Anna began sobbing. “Oh my God! Oh my God! What’s happening?”

  Mark had moved swiftly across the room to scoop his wife into his arms.

  Holly raised her head and surveyed the scene. She leapt up. “Richard! I need to see if he’s okay!”

  Mark grabbed her arm. “No! The man may still be out there with a gun!”

  Holly shook off his grip. “I don’t care! Richard could be hurt!”

  Mark reached into his pocket for his mobile phone. “I’ll call the police.”

  Holly had already dashed into the hallway. She froze at the sight of the tableau laid out before her. The front door was flung wide open. Richard McGill was lying on his back in the hall, with his legs dangling over the threshold. A circular mass of deep red expanded slowly across his pale shirt. Holly moved swiftly forward and instinctively placed her hands over the gaping wound.

  “I’m here, darling, please hold on. The ambulance is coming.” She could sense movement beside them. Mark was stepping over her husband to get out of the door. She heard the urgent crunch of his shoes on the gravel driveway.

  “There’s nobody in sight!” He called back inside.

  As if Holly cared. Someone could come back and shoot them all and she wouldn’t be bothered. Her husband was slipping away from her, she could feel the pumping of his warm, sticky blood getting increasingly weak. The ambulance would be far too late. The nearest town was a forty-minute drive.

  She sat back on her haunches and gazed upwards. Why the hell had they come here? They were so far from civilisation. Holly had been happy enough in Glasgow. She’d loved her flat, the convenience of the location, sleeping at Richard’s place on alternate nights. She’d been contented with that. She hadn’t even minded that much back when he was married.

  The tears were streaking down her face as she leant back across the body, feeling the blood saturating her silk blouse. A pair of strong arms enfolded her, attempting to pull her away.

  “We mustn’t contaminate the scene. Come back into the kitchen. We need to wait for the police. He’s gone, Holly. Richard’s gone.”

  Holly turned on the person saying these words, the anger surging within her suddenly spilling out. “Shut up! Shut up!” She pummelled her fists against his chest. “Why couldn’t you have gone with him to the door? Why?”

  Mark had managed to manoeuvre her to a standing position. He gently guided her back inside.

  “It was the middle of the fucking night!” She continued her tirade. “Why did you let him go alone?” Her blue eyes flashed with hatred, managing to bring them both to a brief standstill. “Because you’re a fucking coward, Mark! That’s bloody why! Richard always said it – you and your anti-war marches. You’re a filthy, pathetic coward! I wish it was you who were dead, not him!” Then she collapsed into his arms, her violent sobs shaking both their bodies, so that they moved almost as one.

  Chapter 1

  Present Day

  Detective Inspector Alice Mann couldn’t get comfortable in her seat. She knew that her squirming movements were disturbing the officers next to her on the row, but it was difficult to care. Her lower back throbbed and sweat was beading across her brow.

  The conference room was filled with off-duty detectives. Their smart-casual quasi-uniforms of jeans and open-necked pastel shirts hardly disguised their day jobs. Alice could see why cops were so recognisable to criminals. They almost gave off a collective scent.

  The suited man addressing the room flicked on a new set of slides, depicting yet another montage of murder scenes and pieces of labelled evidence. Alice decided she could take no more. She muttered her excuses to the men on the left of her and awkwardly sidled out of the row before ducking her head down to exit the lecture room as unobtrusively as possible.

  Alice headed straight for a balcony area which gave views across the Clyde to the new concert hall being constructed on the north bank. She gulped in the fresh air and stood with her legs apart, stretching her vertebrae to their fullest extent. The baby kicked in unison, as if he too had been released from a restricted space. “Not yet,” she mumbled to the bump straining her suit jacket. “It’s not quite time for your release, sunshine.”

  “Talking to yourself, DI Mann?”

  Alice turned to find DCI Dani Bevan standing behind her with glasses of sparkling mineral water in her hands. “Sorry, Ma’am. I had to duck out of the talk early. It was fascinating and everything and I’ve taken some really thorough notes…”

  Dani cracked a grin. “Here, have something to drink. I saw you slipping out and decided to follow. You didn’t look well.”

  Alice leaned against the handrail and sipped the water greedily. “I think the baby is pushing on my coccyx. Sitting down isn’t my favourite thing to do right now.”

  “So, sending you on a four-day lecture course wasn’t perhaps the best of ideas?”

  Alice grimaced. “Douglas insisted I attend. He thought it would be good for my professional development.”

  “And you didn’t want to let him think that your pregnancy stopped you from doing what any other officer might be able to do?”

  Alice frowned, before nodding begrudgingly. “You know what it’s like, Ma’am. We can’t just be equal, we’ve got to be better.”

  “Yep, that’s right enough. But you and the baby come first now. You’ve already reached the rank of DI. It’s okay to take your foot off the gas.”

  Alice sighed, her shoulders drooping in relief. “If that’s the case, permission to go home and lie in a warm bath, ma’am. My back’s in bloody agony.”

  Dani took the glass from her hand and placed it on a table. “Permission granted. I’ll give you a lift myself.”

  *

  The flat was on the ground floor of an Edwardian villa off Gallowgate. Tea chests and cardboard boxes packed to the brim lined the hallway. As soon as she was over the threshold, Alice excused herself and immediately disappeared into a room off the hall which Dani assumed was the main bedroom.

  She shrugged off her coat and hung it up by the door, continuing through to a kitchen which had French windows leading onto a narrow but pretty garden.

  Alice emerged a few moments later, enveloped in a white robe. �
�Please forgive the boxes. We only moved in at the weekend.”

  “What time is Fergus due back?”

  “He’s on a big case right now. It will be late. But don’t worry about me. A bath and an early night will sort me out.” Despite her best efforts to hide it, Alice flinched with discomfort as another stab of pain shot down her back.

  “Are you allowed to take any painkillers?”

  “I can have a couple of paracetamol. They’re in the cupboard above the sink.”

  “Right. Get yourself into a hot tub. I’ll gather you up some pills and have a cup of tea ready for when you come out.”

  “Will do, ma’am.” Alice gave a weak salute, shuffling towards the bathroom.

  Whilst she was gone, Dani surveyed the kitchen. It wasn’t difficult to find what she needed. The space was small but efficiently equipped. It was the type of kitchen where it was clear only the most perfunctory of meals would be prepared. Dani wondered if that would change once the baby came.

  She filled a tray and carried it into the lounge, which stretched from the front to the rear of the flat. Dani plumped a couple of cushions and placed them at the end of the sofa, positioning the tea and tablets within reach.

  It occurred to her that her colleague would want her laptop to hand, so she retrieved Alice’s bag from where it had been dumped in the hallway and placed it on the coffee table. By the time Dani had settled into an armchair and drunk her own tea, Alice entered the lounge, her auburn hair lying damp to her shoulders and a pair of fluffy pyjamas enclosing her burgeoning bump. She propped herself up against the cushions on the sofa whilst Dani leant forward and handed her the pills, one by one.