Buried Secrets (DCI MacBain Scottish Crimes Book 1)

by Oliver Davies

“I don’t remember hearing about this,” I interrupted. Surely, the disappearance of a councillor’s family would have made the news, and even if it hadn’t, my mother would have known as Chief Inspector.

  Guilt and grief weighed heavily on Rickerson’s features, carving wrinkles deep into his face and dragging the loose skin towards the floor. “I kept it a secret. I didn’t tell the police or the press or even my own assistant. I thought he would hurt them if I did.” A sob racked his body, tears spilling from his eyes. “Every day, I wonder what would have happened if I had involved someone, anyone.”

  Fletcher and I gave him a minute, turning our chairs away so he could relive the worst moment of his life in privacy.

  “His name is Thomas Holden,” Rickerson said in a thick voice. His cheeks were damp, and his eyes glistened, but the tears had dried up. His wine glass was empty. “He’s American. I did as he asked, and he still killed my wife. I think he was displeased that I’d taken so long.”

  “And your son?” Fletcher asked quietly.

  “Holden let him go. He promised to kill him if I told anyone what had happened. Ryan left for university as soon as he could and never came back. I never did figure out what was really in that shipment of wool.” He half-smiled, but it was full of cracks.

  “Do you know where we can find him?” I asked. “Is he in Edinburgh at the Allraise Ventures building?”

  “When he brought me to him, it was on an island on the Dormach Firth. The largest one.” Rickerson’s voice had gone quiet and dull as if any remaining spark of life had fled while he spoke. “It was a large, well-furnished building. I’d be willing to bet he’s still there.”

  Hope flared within me. We now had a name and a location. We could take this guy down. “When we bring Holden in, will you testify? Your story would really help make sure he gets put away for a long time, and you would get justice for your wife.”

  “If you bring him in,” Rickerson corrected bitterly. “His people are skilled, ruthless. I doubt you even get near him.”

  “Fine, if we bring him in,” I agreed because it didn’t seem like Rickerson would say yes otherwise. “Will you tell your story?”

  He looked down at his plate, at the cooling meat and the butter long since melted into the slice of bread. “Yes. That bastard ruined my life. Someone should stop him from ruining any more.”

  “I will,” I said as I stood. “You can count on it.”

  “I won’t hold my breath,” Rickerson muttered.

  Fletcher and I saw ourselves out, and though we’d gotten the information we needed, the silence inside the car was heavy, oppressive. “I feel bad for him,” Fletcher said.

  I nodded.

  It was just after seven o’clock when we returned to the station, and the day shift workers without active cases were filtering out the door, replaced by the night shift. Dunnel was still in his office. I was pretty sure he slept in that tall cabinet behind his desk like a bat.

  Fletcher and I settled in at my desk, and I pulled up a map on my computer so we could look for the island on the Dormach Firth that Rickerson spoke of. It sat just north of the city of Tain. The Glenmorangie Distillery was nearby as well, built beside the A9 just before it crossed over the water.

  “How the hell are we going to get to an island?” I asked.

  “There’s a ferry here,” Fletcher said, pointing to a spot on the north side of the firth, on the other side of the A9 from the island.

  “They’ll know we’re coming then.”

  “The ocean connects all the firths. We could charter a boat here and loop up.” She traced her finger along the blue on the map. “And then come in from the opposite direction of the expected ferry. It would take longer, but it might give us the element of surprise.”

  “We should take a team this time. I think Dunnel would kill me himself if we don’t.”

  “If we take more than one boat, each pair can disembark at a different point on the island. That way, they can cause some confusion, and we’ll be able to slip into the estate and find Finn.”

  “Are you up for that?” I asked. Fletcher was tough, but she was still just a rookie, and there was a difference between the sparring mat and a real fight.

  Fletcher nodded firmly and met my eyes. “I am.”

  “Then let’s tell Dunnel and get this show on the road.”

  I left my computer open as I grabbed my duster and headed over to Dunnel’s office. He was just hanging up the phone as I knocked and entered. “We got ahold of Rickerson,” I said. “He gave us a name: Thomas Holden. He’s American. He’s behind Allraise Ventures, probably has his fingers in a whole bunch of pies all around the world. We also think we know where he is. We’d like a team to use to breach the estate.”

  Dunnel’s eyes turned serious, and he steepled his fingers in front of him as he looked at us. “Good work, you two. Take a five-person team, not including yourselves. You don’t know what you’re getting into over there or what kind of resistance you meet. Your primary goal is getting Finn Wair out safe and sound. Taking down Holden is secondary, got it?”

  “Yes, sir,” Fletcher and I said in unison and saluted.

  “Good. You have full control to pick who you want for the team. Is there anything else you need?”

  “Boats,” I said. “We plan to approach by sea.”

  Dunnel nodded. “Use Sunset Charter. We’ve worked with them before. I’ll call ahead and make sure they’re ready for you.”

  “Thank you, Chief.”

  “Good luck, you two. Bring Finn home. And yourselves as well.”

  “We will,” I said.

  Fletcher and I went out to gather our team. Constable Tim Barnes was an avid boater on the weekends. Inspectors Rosa Reid and Samuel Elker were both great shots. Sergeant James Falkner was good in a fight. Sergeant Ella Holmes knew how to keep calm under pressure. The seven of us gathered by my desk, so I could run them through the plan and everything we knew about the case.

  I reiterated what Dunnel said to Fletcher and me in his office. “We get Finn out first, then we worry about everyone else. He’s been gone for almost a week. We don’t know what kind of shape he’s in. If we can get him out without traumatizing him any further, that would be ideal. Fletcher and I will look for him while you five try to draw attention away from us. If you hear things going tits-up inside, you come running and go for Finn, not us, got it?”

  The five officers nodded their assent. Their faces were grim and ready for action, and I was satisfied that they understood the gravity of the situation. “Good. Gather what you need and meet us at Sunset Charter at twenty-one hundred hours.”

  Our team saluted and dispersed, leaving Fletcher and me alone. Fletcher figured it would take us around four hours to motor up to the island, and I hoped that we would arrive while the place was sleepy and under guarded.

  “I’ll be right back,” I said. “There’s one more thing I have to do.”

  Fletcher nodded. She’d found a sea chart somewhere and was busy studying it.

  I made my way back to MacGowan’s cell. He was being transferred tomorrow to await trial, and he looked like a man who could see the bars of his life closing in around him.

  “MacGowan,” I said, and he turned his head to look at me without sitting up. “We know where your son is. We’re heading out to rescue him soon. I just… thought you should know.”

  MacGowan smiled faintly. “Thank you, MacBain. Would you tell him that I’m sorry and I never meant for any of this to happen?”

  “You know I think you should tell him yourself, but sure,” I promised. “Apparently, a man named Thomas Holden is responsible, if you’re curious.”

  “The art collector?” MacGowan asked.

  I shrugged. “I have no idea.”

  “I think I stole from his collection once. Allegedly, of course.” MacGowan’s face furrowed as his guilt bore down on him like an avalanche. “Maybe that’s why he’s doing this.”

  “We’ll do our best to be s
ure he pays,” I said. “I’ll make sure you know how it goes.”

  MacGowan nodded his thanks and closed his eyes, rolling over, so his back was to me. I saw his shoulders begin to shake slightly.

  I left the man to his private grief. The weight of what was to come was heavy on my shoulders as I crossed the station floor to rejoin Fletcher. We had to succeed tonight. I didn’t want to think about what would happen if we didn’t.

  “Ready to do this?” I asked.

  “I am.” Fletcher rolled up the sea chart and tucked it into a black backpack. The hard look in her eyes flickered for a second. “Can I ask you a question? Are you… utterly terrified?”

  “Yes,” I admitted. My stomach had been churning ever since we crafted this plan. “You’ll feel that right up until you step off the boat, then you’ll have too much else on your mind to be scared.”

  “What do you do until then?”

  “You try not to vomit,” I said in a bad approximation of a joke, but Fletcher still cracked half of a smile.

  We separated to get changed for the mission. I pulled on a dark, cable-knit sweater and swapped my blue jeans for black trousers with many pockets. The duster went on over the top, and I tucked a wool hat and gloves into its pocket for later. I took my time lacing up my boots as my fingers were trembling slightly, and then I took several deep breaths as I looked at myself in the mirror. I fit my features into a mask of confidence and calm competence, hoping that if I looked that way on the outside, it would spread through my insides as well.

  Fletcher and I had agreed to meet at her car, so I saw myself out of the station. Several people wished me well as I passed, and I thanked them with a raised hand. The air was brisk when I stepped outside, and it smelled like rain, the clouds overhead thick and dark with anticipation.

  A hand grabbed mine just as I went to step off the pavement, and I looked round to see Lena standing there, looking up at me with wide, anxious eyes. She’d bound her hair up in a bun to fight against the wind, and she wore a dark blue coat buttoned all the way up to her chin.

  “Lena, hi,” I said. “I’m sorry, but I don’t have much time.”

  “I know, I know.” She licked her lips. Jittery energy rolled off her in waves, and she looked about ready to take off running any second. “Listen, there’s something I’ve meant to tell you.”

  “What?” I asked, staring intently down into her face.

  Fletcher chose that moment to walk out the door. She clapped a hand on my shoulder as she passed by, headed for her car. “MacBain, let’s go. Time’s a-wasting.”

  Lena hesitated and dug something from her pocket. “There’s so much I want to say, but you have to go. I hope this explains it all.” She placed a white envelope in my hand and then hopped up on her tiptoes and kissed me. My brain short-circuited for a second before I remembered to return the kiss, one hand coming up to cup her cheek. Her fingers hooked on the pocket of my duster, and then she was gone, coat swirling as she spun and hurried away, disappearing among the cars.

  Fletcher wolf-whistled. “Now that is a send-off,” she said.

  “One of these days, I’m going to kill you,” I warned her. I stared after Lena, though she was already gone, wondering what it was she’d wanted to tell me. Finally, I shook my head and joined Fletcher at her car, sliding into the passenger seat, her envelope heavy in my pocket.

  We had a kid to save.

  Nineteen

  Alec stared up at the ceiling of his cell, the grey stones a little blurry to his eyes. His whole body burned with a desperate sort of energy, and finally, he had to jump up off the wooden bench and pace. It took six steps to reach the bars on the far side and another six to get back.

  Logic said he should trust MacBain and his partner to save Finn, but MacBain’s words percolated endlessly within his head. Despite his best efforts, Alec had brought this trauma upon his son, and so it seemed to him that he should be the one to make it right. Maybe he’d been wrong to leave all those years ago. He loved his family. Ainslee was his heart and soul, and he’d never felt such joy as when he’d first held his son in his arms.

  Yet he hadn’t been able to give up the thrill of his work. It was all he knew how to do. He found he didn’t fit into the framework of a normal life. He’d tried, by God, he’d tried, but he’d looked out the window each night and wondered what he had done that day. Ran barcodes over a red laser and smiled at people who couldn’t be bothered to thank him. The night had called to him, and he had answered. For a few months, he thought he could have both, but he knew that his darker life would come for the light of his family eventually, and so in the end, he’d left, disappeared like the ghost he was. His decision had hurt every day, but he bore it, knowing he was protecting the people he loved.

  And he’d failed, in the end. It had all been for nothing. Something like this would have happened no matter what. But Alec would fix it, and he would apologize, and then he would… well, he didn’t know what he would do after that, but first thing first, he had to get out of his cell.

  Alec was alone in this part of the holding area, so he crouched down to examine the lock on the cell door. It was a simple thing that would be easy enough to pick if he had his tools, but of course, they’d confiscated all that when they arrested him. There was a small window set above the bench that he was, in theory, slim enough to wiggle through if the bars in front of the glass weren’t set deeply into the mortar.

  He would just have to do something stupid and dangerous.

  If he pressed himself up against the bars, he could just barely see the desk clerk at the far end of the hall, seemingly engrossed in a magazine. “Excuse me?” he called, and the clerk’s shoulders bunched beneath his shirt. “Excuse me, I--I don’t feel so good.”

  The clerk swivelled his chair around and squinted suspiciously at Alec. The ‘I Don’t Feel so Good’ play was the oldest and most obvious trick in the book, but it was the only one he had right now. He clutched his stomach and contorted his face as he slumped against the bars for support, struggling to stay upright.

  “Something’s wrong. I don’t--” Pain gripped his voice, and he groaned, finally losing the battle against gravity as he sank to his knees.

  Either he was a better actor than he thought or the clerk had a soft heart because the man stood and made his way back to Alec’s cell. “What’s the matter?” he asked. He tried to keep his voice gruff, but Alec could see the concern in his eyes.

  It made Alec feel almost a little bad as he shot to his feet, grabbed the front of the man’s shirt, and yanked him into the bars, making sure he hit his head hard. It took two tries before the man’s eyes finally rolled up, and he collapsed. Alec winced at the loud thuds still echoing around the space and waited for a beat to see if anyone was going to come and investigate before he knelt and unhooked the ring of keys from the clerk’s belt.

  He unlocked his cell and hauled the man inside by his feet. “Sorry about that,” Alec whispered. He checked the clerk’s pulse just in case, relieved to find it thrumming solidly under his fingers. He stripped the man’s uniform off and put it on. It was a bit loose and long in the sleeve and trouser leg, but he hoped if he moved quickly enough, no one would notice. He hid his hair under the cap, tucking the trousers into the boots and cinching the belt tight to cover up the extra folds of fabric.

  Alec locked the door behind him. He didn’t know how long the clerk would be unconscious, but he wanted to slow the discovery of his escape as much as possible. Hat tipped forward over his eyes, he walked quickly down the hall, pausing at the desk just long enough to turn off the cameras before he let himself out and walked up the stairs to the station’s main floor.

  His heart pounded in his ears as he pushed the door open and stepped out into full view of the entire floor. The only person who noticed him right away saw his uniform first and looked away without a thought.

  Alec let out a shaky breath. This might just work. He walked quickly and calmly towards the front door at the v
ery far end of the large room. Every instinct screamed at him to run, but he forced the desire away. Luckily, it seemed as if MacBain and Fletcher were already gone. They’d be the ones most likely to blow his cover. He steered clear of Owens as well, the constable who’d brought him in, but the coffeemaker preoccupied him, his back to Alec.

  Though he knew it was a risk, he swung by MacBain’s desk, picking it out by the nameplate seated haphazardly at the edge, and gave the mouse a shake. A map stood open on the screen, a red pin over an island in the Dormach Firth. Alec took a mental picture and straightened, tugging at his uniform sleeves as he set off across the floor again as nonchalantly as he could.

  Then, miraculously, Alec was pushing the glass door open and stepping out into the windy day. He almost laughed but clapped a hand over his mouth before the sound could escape. He hurried across the parking lot, and as soon as he was safely hidden among the cars, he began to shuck the uniform off, leaving pieces of it strewn in his wake. He kept the flashlight, handcuffs, and incapacitant spray, just in case. He needed a car, but he wasn’t about to steal one from the station since police vehicles all had trackers in them.

  Once he was a few streets away, he hunted around until he spotted a nondescript, silver sedan parked right at the edge of the road, away from the buildings. It was an older model, so no alarms went off when he smashed the driver’s side window with a rock. He glanced around, making sure no one had noticed the sound of breaking glass, and then reached through and unlocked the car. He carefully brushed the shards of the seat before he got inside, flipping the sun visors open just in case there was an extra set of keys.

  There wasn’t, but that was okay. There were other ways to start a car.

  Alec pried the plastic panel off the steering column, exposing the tangle of wires beneath. It only took him a few minutes to slice through the wires and twist them back together in a different configuration. The lights on the dash came on as he did, and then he sparked the starter wire against the twisted battery lines a couple of times, and the car rumbled to life beneath him. Alec grinned fiercely; there was nothing quite like the thrill of a successful theft. He cranked on the wheel to break the steering lock and pulled into the street, leaving a sprinkle of broken glass behind.