Remember Me 2

by Ian C. P. Irvine

  “I’m jealous. I’m heading back up to Coll just now to talk to a suspect. We might not have reception there, but I’ll call you as soon as I can, okay?”

  Before they said goodbye, McKenzie made Fiona put the phone to her tummy, and he said ‘hello’ to Little Bump.

  He missed them already.

  -------------------------

  McKenzie’s Car

  The Police Helicopter

  En route to Coll

  15.10

  Stepping aboard the police helicopter and settling down into his seat, the pilot had warned him that the weather conditions had changed slightly, and that they were expecting some turbulence after all which may last about thirty minutes during the latter part of the flight.

  The pilot had advised that if McKenzie had any work to do, he should do it as soon as possible. He might not feel up to it later, going on recent experiences.

  It was good advice and immediately taken.

  McKenzie was really now getting increasingly impatient and concerned about what the rest of the book might contain.

  He needed to know as soon as possible if it mentioned anyone else that could be considered a target, and ideally he should finish it before they brought Daniel Gray in for questioning, and a possible arrest.

  McKenzie had also warned the pilot that they may be returning with an extra guest, en route to a police station on the mainland.

  He was still waiting for permission from DCS Wilkinson to take Mr Gray back to Edinburgh for questioning. Given their lack of resources the last thing McKenzie needed would be to have to take him to a local station in Oban or Glasgow, and then to commute back and forward to question him.

  DCS Wilkinson had also promised to supply the documentation, if needed.

  Accepting a hot drink from the crew, McKenzie opened the book and started to read.

  He was soon engrossed.

  Not that the writing style had improved at all, but he was now driven to digest as much of it as possible in the next few hours.

  Fighting the text, McKenzie began to slowly plough through the pages.

  He was about twenty minutes into his reading, when he began to realise that he had possibly made a terrible mistake.

  Flicking back a few pages and rereading them, his hand began to shake a little, and he was forced to put the book down.

  He felt nauseous.

  Not from the turbulence, which had not yet started, but from the contents which he’d just read.

  It was a new chapter.

  It talked about the next victim.

  It gave the victim’s name.

  Described their method of execution.

  And outlined why they had to die.

  McKenzie had got it all wrong.

  McKenzie tried to stand up.

  He needed to use the helicopter’s radio immediately.

  Just then the helicopter lurched forward violently and dropped a few metres through the air.

  “DCI McKenzie, please return to your seat and strap yourself in, immediately!” The copilot shouted at him, his voice booming in McKenzie’s headset. “The turbulence is just about to start, and it’s going to be rougher than we expected. I’m sorry.”

  “I need to call someone on the ground. Immediately.” McKenzie shouted back, grabbing hold of a strap hanging down from the ceiling.

  “No-can-do. Not yet. Not until this bit of turbulence passes…”

  The helicopter lurched again and McKenzie stumbled backwards, banging awkwardly against the wall.

  He immediately sat down, and realised that he was quickly beginning to feel very queasy.

  Reaching into his jacket pocket he pulled out a plastic shopping bag from ASDA and got it ready.

  The pulsating drone of the helicopter outside had suddenly increased in volume and the static electricity in the air had quickly ramped up.

  McKenzie shook his head.

  He glanced back at the book, which he’d dropped on the seat next to his, and tried to focus.

  He needed to carry on reading.

  It was really important that he did.

  But the wind had just increased, and the helicopter was beginning to become a very uncomfortable place to be. McKenzie could feel himself turning green.

  Again.

  The pilot looked back at McKenzie.

  “Don’t worry, it’ll only last about twenty minutes. And there’s no danger, let me assure you. It’s just rather uncomfortable for some people.”

  McKenzie heard his words of reassurance, but did not feel assured at all.

  On the contrary, he felt very bad indeed.

  A few minutes later, he vomited for the first time that trip.

  Which, it would turn out, would be the first of many such times that night.

  Slowly, as the storm around them began to intensify, McKenzie began to think less and less about the case, and more about the contents of his stomach.

  At one point, he even questioned his desire to live.

  Then he thought of Little Bump and remembered the morning sickness that Fiona had gone through for months.

  In theory, he knew, that should put things in perspective.

  However, knowing that the pilot has assured him that in another fifteen minutes it would all be good again, it didn’t stop those fifteen minutes becoming the most uncomfortable of his life.

  Never, NEVER, did he want to go through that again, he thought to himself.

  Unfortunately, he knew that it would very probably only be a matter of hours before he would have to.

  Twenty minutes later, the copilot came back to McKenzie and offered some apologies.

  “I’m sorry, that didn’t go as well as predicted, but the good news is that it should all be good from here on in. And, you should be able to use your own phone for the next ten minutes. We’re passing over a few villages where we know from experience that there is good coverage.”

  McKenzie opened his eyes. They’d been glued tightly shut for the past ten minutes in fervent prayer: ‘Oh, please, make it stop.’

  Which it now had.

  So perhaps his prayers had worked.

  Or was it just the begging?

  “If we need to, would it be possible to make a stop-over somewhere else to pick up another passenger after you drop me off? Then bring them back as soon as possible?” McKenzie enquired, before continuing and offering a more comprehensive explanation.

  The copilot agreed that it could happen, if required, but McKenzie informed him he first had to get hold of the mystery guest to check their availability.

  Pulling out his phone, he tried continuously for five minutes before he got a connection and the phone rang.

  “Grant?” he shouted into his handset. “It’s DCI McKenzie. I’m en route in the helicopter to Coll, as discussed. But there’s been a change of plan. Can the helicopter pick you up on Tiree in thirty minutes and bring you to Coll after they drop me off? I think I’m going to need your help!”

  “If you need me, yes.” Grant agreed.

  “Good.” McKenzie replied, hesitating for a second before continuing. “I’m afraid I have some bad news. I’ve made a terrible mistake. Daniel Grant is not the serial killer. He isn’t to blame for any of this. I’ve read the situation all wrong!”

  “Then why the urgency? And why are you still coming up to arrest him or bring him in for questioning? Why do you need me?”

  “I’m not. But I’m going to need you to persuade him to come into protective custody with us. Daniel Grant isn’t the serial killer. He’s the next victim!”

  Chapter 40

  Tuesday

  Island of Coll

  Above Port na Luing Cottage

  17.15

  Under McKenzie’s instructions, the helicopter flew low over Daniel Grant’s cottage.

  “I need you to land as close as possible. Time is of the essence. As close as you can get.”

  They surveyed the ground around the cottage and then agreed a place where they coul
d land, but just temporarily.

  “We’ll drop you off, but we’ll have to leave you. We can touch down over there, on the road, but only for a matter of minutes. We’ll open the doors and you jump down. Then we’ll head over to Tiree and pick up Grant where you agreed and bring her back.”

  “Excellent.” McKenzie shouted back.

  “Don’t forget, duck down and keep low as you move away from the helicopter. You’re a tall man. Don’t stand up, or you won’t be a head and shoulders above anyone else anymore.”

  McKenzie nodded but wasn’t really paying attention. He was surveying the cottage, expecting Daniel Grant to come out at any second to see what all the commotion was about. Then McKenzie remembered that if he wasn’t there, there was a strong likelihood that he might be in the pub.

  If McKenzie hadn’t been so tense with worry, he might have enjoyed jumping out of a helicopter: it was all very Boy’s Own stuff. Instead, he couldn’t stop thinking about Daniel.

  As the helicopter slowly dropped to the point above the road, McKenzie did exactly as he was told. When instructed and the copilot opened the door at the side, McKenzie jumped down, bent low, and hurried quickly away from the rotating blades into the grass beside the road.

  He waved back at the pilot, then hurried further away. Behind him the blades starting rotating faster, and as soon as enough lift was generated, the helicopter took off, turned and headed off towards the Island of Tiree.

  It only took McKenzie a few minutes to cover the ground to Port na Luing Cottage. Arriving at the door, he banged loudly. There was no reply.

  He banged again, then after waiting a little longer, he walked around the property to the back. Looking inside through the window, he couldn’t see any sign of Mr Gray, so he tried the backdoor handle, and as hoped, found the door was open.

  He’d once heard that people didn’t really bother locking their doors on the Islands. There was no real crime, and very few tourists on some of them. With only one ferry each day, if anything went missing, you just had to call the ferry and have it stopped, and you’d have the culprit then and there.

  However, perhaps another reason why crime wasn’t very high was because people lived very simple lives. Maybe, apart from the odd bottle of good whisky, most people didn’t own very much worth stealing.

  Once inside the cottage, McKenzie had called Mr Gray’s name several times. No answer.

  Moving through the house, everything seemed fine.

  The laptop was open on the desk beside the window, and McKenzie was tempted to see what Mr Gray was writing, but decided against it. That was perhaps being a little too nosey. If Mr Gray wasn’t willing to tell himself, then McKenzie knew he shouldn’t look.

  Moving through to the bedrooms, he also found them empty. No one was in the kitchen, or the bathroom.

  The house was empty.

  There was no sign of Mr Gray.

  It was an hour’s walk to the hotel where Grant had last found him. McKenzie called her midway. She’d just been picked up by the helicopter, and she agreed to meet him at the hotel.

  “If he’s not there, is there anywhere else I should look?” McKenzie asked.

  “Not really. It’s the only hotel in town. And to tell you the truth, apart from going out on a boat, or walking on a beach, there’s not much else to do. Don’t worry, I think you will find him in the bar.”

  Unfortunately, she was wrong.

  He wasn’t in the bar.

  And no one had seen or heard from him since Sunday.

  McKenzie was still making enquiries with the locals at the bar when Grant walked in.

  Everyone looked up and shouted a mixture of greetings. Grant was obviously well liked by everyone.

  “Any luck?” she asked, coming straight across to him.

  “None. Are there any taxi’s on the island? I want to go straight back to his cottage.”

  “There’s not really a taxi service here. Not like on the mainland. But if you’re in a hurry, we just do this… ” she turned to everyone in the bar and shouted quite loudly. “There’s two glasses of whisky on the bar later for anyone who gives us a quick lift down to Daniel Gray’s cottage at Arinagour.”

  Three people stood up.

  “Take your pick, Guv. Just remember they’ve all been drinking. My best advice is pick the one who’s drunk the least and remember to forget about Scotland’s zero tolerance laws. It’s their way, … or the highway. Literally.”

  McKenzie nodded and chose the one with the fewest glasses on the table in front of them. Luckily he was only on his third beer.

  “Dina worry, Detective,” Old Jimmie Meekle assured him. “I’m nae completely pissed. And there’ll be no other traffic on the roads at this time. Anyone not in the bar will be watching Eastenders on the box.”

  Not exactly immensely reassured, McKenzie offered to drive, and Old Jimmie accepted.

  They took fifteen minutes to get to the cottage. Thankfully it was still light, and whilst Old Jimmie decided to take a wee nap in the back of his car, McKenzie and Grant wandered down to the cottage from the road, and once again found no one at home.

  “Have you checked the beach?” Grant asked. “He might be down there, or sitting reading or painting on his favourite rock on the headland?”

  McKenzie kicked himself. Why hadn’t he thought of that before?

  Striding out the back door and across the moor towards the sea, McKenzie told Grant to take the beach, and he would check out Gray’s favourite rock, where they had sat together and talked during his last visit.

  Grant nodded and turned away from him down through the small dunes towards the curving beach below.

  McKenzie walked forward about ten metres, rose up over a small dune, and then came to an abrupt stop.

  Headmaster Daniel Grant was sitting on his favourite rock not far away from McKenzie. A bottle of whisky had fallen over on the rock beside him, its contents mostly now spilled.

  Grant’s body was sitting up straight, facing the setting sun.

  From where McKenzie was standing he could see that it was resting on a piece of wood which had been positioned to prop up the body to stop it falling over.

  To anyone else, the body would have seemed slightly slumped forward, because McKenzie could not see Daniel Grant’s head.

  McKenzie saw Daniel, however, and shuddered.

  He knew exactly what to expect.

  He’d read the book.

  They were too late.

  The killer had got there before them.

  McKenzie took several deep breaths and steeled himself for what he knew he would find. Walking slowly forward, and looking around just in case the killer could perhaps be hiding somewhere, even though McKenzie instinctively knew he wouldn’t, McKenzie came up to Daniel and walked around to his front to face him.

  Even though he’d known what to expect, the brutality of it shocked him.

  Daniel Gray’s body was headless.

  But it was not without the head.

  The head was easily found resting in Daniel Gray’s lap, his two arms and hands gently placed around it to stop it rolling away, but positioned so that McKenzie could easily read the two words which were written across his forehead, branding him forever in the afterlife.

  Daniel Gray’s eyes were open.

  It seemed as if they were looking out over the sea watching the setting sun.

  One. Last. Time.

  -------------------------

  Tuesday

  Headquarters Ben Venue Capital Assets

  St. Andrew Square

  Edinburgh

  18.00

  Marie McDonald sat alone in the waiting room outside the board room of Ben Venue Capital Assets.

  She’d been sitting there alone, for over an hour.

  Having arrived ten minutes early for the appointment, she been given coffee and cake, then shown into the waiting room.

  Periodically, a pretty receptionist had come through and apologised.

  �
�We’re extremely sorry. We’re running a little late. Could you wait a little longer please?”

  Marie had smiled, and said, “No problem.”

  At first she’d meant it, but after a while she began to wonder if this was going to be a meeting like so many others that she had attended: lots of nice words, but not really being taken seriously.

  She was used to it. Finding funding for her children was an uphill struggle at the best of times.

  However, at 5.50 p.m., when the pretty young lady had apologised one more time, Marie had not replied, “No problem.” It was actually becoming a problem.

  If they weren’t going to give her any money, they should just say so. Not play these games and go through the motions. She would rather they were upfront and honest. Marie had other things on her mind too. She didn’t want to be late for meeting Stuart at 7.30 p.m. outside the entrance to the North British Hotel in Princes Street.

  At 6.00 p.m. the lady came through one more time, and apologised again.

  “Could you wait ten minutes more?” she asked.

  Marie smiled, then expressed her apologies and said that she did have a personal appointment that she needed to make at 7.30 p.m. She would have to leave at 7.15 p.m., but she was free up till that time.

  The young lady smiled, thanked her, then left the room, returning to the board room where she and two others were waiting, and beginning to slightly panic.

  Stuart Nisbet had arranged this meeting and instructed them in no uncertain terms that the meeting should go ahead. He also made it clear that he would talk to them further before the meeting and provide guidance for their discussion.

  However, no one had been able to reach him all day. They knew that he’d taken his jet somewhere, but no one was able to contact him. They’d been sitting there, waiting to talk to him, as instructed, but not able to take the meeting until they’d received his final instructions.

  Now they were worried that their guest might leave, before they had a chance to talk together.

  “Ladies! Why are you looking so worried?” Stuart said, bursting into the boardroom from his office.

  The Vice-President stood up, and rebuked him.