In Dark Water

by Lynne McEwan

  Shona stood looking down at him, clenching and unclenching her fists. ‘Who knows what happened at Milton McConnell? Who did you tell?’ she said. All the way home in the car she’d thought about this, more and more convinced this was what Baird meant about her unfitness to serve and rumours from London: her association with Rob and the bank fraud. All it took was whispers.

  ‘No one, I swear,’ Rob said, shocked. ‘It’s hardly something I’d boast about, is it?’

  ‘I’ve been suspended,’ she spat.

  ‘How can that be my fault?’ he challenged, getting up and kicking the freezer door shut. ‘Look, I know I messed up, but I’m getting help.’

  ‘You know what that means?’ Shona yelled. ‘Thanks to you we’re finished. No money, no jobs, no business. Think, Rob, think hard. Who knows about this?’

  ‘Look, Shona, I’m the victim here. They screwed me over at the bank.’ He stabbed a finger at her. ‘If someone’s out to get you, don’t blame me.’ Rob stalked out of the kitchen and left Shona staring open-mouthed after him.

  ‘Thanks for the support!’ she yelled. ‘Rob!’ She went through the kitchen after him, but he’d already sprinted upstairs. High above she heard their bedroom door slam.

  Becca’s pale face looked down over the bannisters. ‘Everything okay, Mum?’

  ‘Yes, yes, darling. Sorry I’m so late.’ Shona’s smile was brittle and unconvincing. ‘How are you doing? Did you get out today?’

  ‘Didn’t feel like it.’

  ‘Right, well I’ve got some time off coming. Maybe we could take a boat out? It’s not too cold yet, is it?’

  ‘Dunno.’ Becca slouched back from the bannisters and Shona heard her bedroom door close.

  ‘Becca? I’ll be up in a minute. Where’s your old phone?’ Shona called after her, but there was no reply.

  Shona’s hands trembled as she pulled out the drawers in the kitchen searching for Becca’s discarded handset. It lay under a under a pile of tea towels and red bills. She wasn’t even going to look at those. Bundling up the envelopes, she went into Rob’s office next door and dumped them on the overcrowded desk beneath the window. Plugging the phone into the wall, she inserted the SIM card bought in Kilmarnock. ‘C’mon, c’mon.’ The sluggish battery blinked slowly back at her.

  Shona’s RNLI fleece hung on the back of the utility room door. She searched the inside pocket for the business card Dan had given her the first time they’d met at Silloth Lifeboat Station. It was there, folded in half. She blew off the fluff and returned to where the phone was slowly coming back to life. One bar showed on the battery, that would be enough if she kept it plugged in.

  Becca’s music drifted down from above. There was no sign of Rob. She closed the office door over and punched Dan’s mobile number into the phone.

  ‘Hello?’ he answered cautiously after the fifth ring, not recognising the number.

  ‘Dan, it’s me.’

  ‘Boss, at last,’ Dan sounded relieved. ‘Are you okay? Murdo told me he’d had a call about a temporary guvnor. What happened?’

  Shona filled him in, omitting Baird’s inference about her past. There was a long silence from Dan. ‘I think you’ve been treated appallingly,’ he said eventually.

  ‘Dan, listen to me. You’ve got to let this go now.’

  ‘Not a chance,’ he said flatly.

  ‘I mean it. Your DCI isn’t interested, you said so yourself. Murdo won’t be able to help you,’ she warned. ‘Let it go, Dan, you did what you could.’

  ‘You’re not letting it go, are you?’ It was half statement, half question.

  ‘I’ll go and see Isla’s mother tomorrow. Tell her I’m sorry we couldn’t find out how her daughter died. I owe her that much at least.’

  ‘Want me to come with you?’ Dan said. She was touched by the generosity of his offer, but what Dan needed to do now was keep his head down. She had misjudged Baird. If he spoke to Dan’s boss, the bull-headed DCI Lambert, then this conscientious young officer could be caught in the fallout of her suspension.

  ‘Thanks, Dan. It’s better if I do this alone. Take care of yourself.’

  ‘You too, boss.’ Dan hesitated. ‘If you need me, you know, to talk or anything, just call.’

  ‘Okay, Dan. Thanks, I will.’ She ended the call and stared for a moment at the handset. She would miss his company. She left the phone to charge. She’d call Murdo shortly, when she’d worked out what to say to him. From the office window the estuary was calm, the sky clear, and the temperature dropping. Later, a mist would come up and, in the morning, there would be a silver sheen of frost on the cars and pathways. She pinned a note of her new mobile number to the kitchen noticeboard for Rob and Becca, then took her fleece from the peg and closed the back door behind her. She would enjoy this beautiful place while she still could. They might not be here much longer.

  Now the shock of her suspension was sinking in she felt an overwhelming sense of guilt that Murdo and her colleagues would suffer for her mistakes. It would be her sergeant who faced the questions tomorrow morning, standing up in the Dumfries CID and explaining to the frowning faces of her former team that they’d be carrying on without her. There would be a disruptive enquiry. Later, a disciplinary board might ask Murdo why he hadn’t questioned his DI’s maverick behaviour. She worried he’d stand up for her, talk of the values they shared; loyalty to the community, defending of the defenceless, the pursuit of justice for all. Murdo and his wife were churchgoers, steadfast in their beliefs. He would hold to his and pay the price with his own career. Dumfries shouldn’t lose a copper as good as Murdo.

  She walked down to the water’s edge. The lifeboat station was dark. She hesitated by the door. Tommy must have gone home. She cupped her face against the shopfront glass. She could see the lifeboat asleep in its metal cradle. She thought of the original Margaret Wilson, the Solway Martyr, a woman tied to a stake and slowly drowned by the incoming tide for holding fast to her beliefs. As the water had reached her chin, the executioner and local church minister had given her the opportunity to recant and be saved. She’d refused. Shona hoped, in the face of this unstoppable tide of disaster that seemed to be racing towards her, her courage and resolution would be as strong. Pulling up her collar, she set off along the seafront path.

  How did this all happen? What sign had she missed? Her marriage to Rob might not survive this, the burden of deceit and lies pulling it apart. There was a part of her that still loved him; they’d come so far together. Her anger at learning what he’d done was still fresh, but he was right about one thing, no one at Milton McConnell would want fraud rumours to get out. So, who told Baird? Maybe this wasn’t about Rob at all. More likely Baird was in contact with her old boss DSU Harry Delfont. Delfont was unscrupulous and corrupt enough to turn the knife. Either way, if it all came out, she was finished.

  She stopped by the Wee Pier. The tide had not yet turned, slack water lay quietly against the lichen-covered granite, invitingly calm. She could just walk in. Walk until it covered her head. Walk until it took her away somewhere peaceful and still. But as soon as she thought this, she saw Becca. Her life would be blighted by the grief Shona knew took root in those left behind. Tommy and her RNLI colleagues hauling Shona’s lifeless body from the water. Professor Kitchen conducting the autopsy before Murdo’s bleak and uncomprehending stare. She saw all this in a fraction of a second and knew there was nothing to be done but face what was coming. She had failed Isla, Sami and Jamie Buckland. Their deaths would be listed as unfortunate but not unexpected. A junkie, a whore, an illegal immigrant; people would say they’d got what they deserved. A least she could tell Isla’s family she didn’t agree, and tomorrow she would do just that.

  Chapter 31

  On Saturday morning Shona drove to the Corr house in Dumfries. She didn’t have Marie’s number to call in advance and knocking brought no reply. Shona peered through the front window to a room unchanged in its neatness, but with Paddy Corr’s reclining chair no longer in fr
ont of the TV. In its place was a child-sized beanbag and a plastic toybox. A neighbour said Marie had taken the kids to Southerness beach where she had a caravan. Shona used her precious petrol on a trip that took her halfway back to where she’d started out an hour earlier.

  There were few visitors despite the dry weather and the September Weekend holiday. She left her car in the village car park and headed towards the dense white block of Southerness lighthouse. The tide was low, the sky grey. Mudbanks and small islands floated in the pewter vista as if suspended between sea and sky. The lighthouse, the second oldest in Scotland, was a familiar landmark she’d seen often on journeys up the firth with the lifeboat.

  Shona, in her off-duty uniform of jeans, trainers, and RNLI fleece, stood for a moment above the beach. She swept back her hair, which blew about her face in a dark mass of waves and curls, and scanned the sparse dogwalkers, fishermen and day trippers for a clue.

  She spotted Marie about a hundred metres away looking out at the Solway Firth. As Shona set off towards the lone figure, she felt a renewed stab of guilt that she was bringing no fresh news and no real answers.

  Two boys in bright anoraks and wellies played nearby. Shona recognised one of them as Isla’s six-year-old son Ryan and her courage nearly failed her. Did he miss his mother? Or had he become accustomed through her long absences to life with his grandmother? She supposed he had. Shona had been the same age when her mother went. She couldn’t recall missing her. That came later. Her wedding, Becca’s birth, Christmases and birthdays, a subtle gap in the family photos she was sure no one else noticed.

  Ryan wheeled and swooped like a gull, intent on some game only he could see. The other boy, a little younger, moved with a listless boredom, hood up against the breeze, shoulders hunched, his hands in his pockets. He dragged loose circles with the toe of his boot on the muddy sand. A ball lay untouched nearby. Marie might not welcome a conversation in front of either children, but the space and distraction of beach and rock pools was better than a stuffy front room for what Shona had to say.

  Suddenly, Ryan ran to his grandmother, pulling at her sleeve, pointing out to sea. A row of bobbing heads just offshore looked back with interest. The grey seals, like bathers in swimming caps, studied the figures on shore before slipping back beneath the choppy water.

  Shona understood how the stories of selkies, half-human, half-seal folk who lured young people away into the sea, had taken hold around the Scottish coast. A tale to comfort the loved ones of drowned souls. Did Marie come here to search the faces of these sea creatures in the hope she would catch a glimpse of Isla? Isla reborn, Isla free.

  Marie turned and looked back at Shona’s approaching figure, shading her eyes from the wind to study her. Recognition followed by a flicker of hope. Then her jaw set firm in a frown. The police never brought good news to her door.

  ‘Hello, Marie.’ Shona smiled at the woman, who seemed to have grown younger since their last meeting. She wore a brightly patterned waterproof jacket and wellies, and her hair was subtly coloured with blonde streaks.

  ‘Youse got nothing better to do than hang about outside in this weather?’ Marie said with a habitual stab at aggression, but Shona could see her heart wasn’t in it.

  ‘Day off,’ Shona replied.

  ‘All right for some.’

  ‘My condolences for Paddy,’ said Shona.

  Marie shrugged. ‘Good riddance.’ She glanced at Shona. ‘You don’t look shocked.’

  ‘I understand he wasn’t an easy man to live with,’ Shona said carefully.

  ‘Led us all a dog’s life, that’s for sure. Better off without him.’

  Ryan studied Shona for a moment with serious blue eyes she recognised from Isla’s picture, then headed back to his game. The smaller child leaned against Marie.

  ‘Who’s this young man?’ Shona said.

  ‘Liam. One of the family. I look after him.’

  ‘Hi Liam.’ Shona crouched down and smiled at the child, but he looked past her, unwilling to meet her eyes.

  ‘Got problems. Doesnae talk,’ Marie said. Liam turned away and followed Ryan to where the older boy was dropping stones into a rock pool.

  Shona nodded. ‘Must be hard for you.’ They watched him go then Shona cleared her throat. ‘I’m sorry we couldn’t do more for Isla,’ she said. Marie looked surprised at this admission. ‘I think you need to prepare yourself,’ Shona continued, ‘for the possibility that we may not be able to determine how she met her death.’

  ‘You mean, you don’t know who killed her?’

  ‘No, I’m sorry,’ replied Shona. Out over the water, a flock of seabirds were a percussion of dark dots against the sky. ‘I have a daughter myself. She’s nearly fifteen. I don’t know what I’d do if I lost her. She’s been in trouble a few times over the years, gave me a few sleepless nights, but still…’

  ‘Aye, they do that right enough.’ Marie gave a short laugh. ‘Lads and lassies, both.’

  ‘I’m thankful I’ve just got the one then.’ Shona smiled. ‘What was Isla like, as a wee girl?’

  ‘Smart,’ Marie said with pride. ‘If she’d stuck in at school mibbae she’d have had a chance. She could have worked in an office, good with numbers. I don’t know where I went wrong.’ She sighed. ‘That’s a lie, I do know. I was terrified of Paddy, but I couldnae leave. He told me plenty of times how he’d kill me and the kids. I was doped up to my eyeballs on Valium from the doctor. The tables turned when he got sick. I got off the pills, but by then it was too late. I should have done more for her.’

  Shona could think of no reply. They stood and watched Ryan, now jumping in a shallow stand of water, the muddy spay leaving dimples around the edges of the pool.

  ‘I saw on the news that Jamie Buckland’s dead.’ Marie said. ‘Nice lad that, Isla was fond of him.’

  ‘Do you know if he has any relatives? Who’s his next of kin?’

  Marie shook her head. ‘His ma was in and out of the jail and his father drank. They’re both dead. Brother and sister were jakies, OD’d years back. Suppose he was always gonnae go the same way.’

  ‘It always comes as a shock though, doesn’t it? Someone so young.’ Shona paused. ‘My daughter recently had a serious accident. It brought home to me how fragile life is, how one action can sweep away someone you love. I know an explanation of what happened is no substitute for your daughter’s life, but I hoped I could at least give you that. I’m sorry I failed to do that.’

  ‘So, you’ll not be investigating it any more.’

  ‘Another officer will take over the case and I believe, together with the fiscal, they’ll conclude that Isla died as the result of a road accident, that the driver panicked and disposed of the body unlawfully. Anyone caught in relation to her death will face that charge. But Isla will be released now, so you can have the funeral.’ She tried to end on a positive note, but how could telling a mother she would soon be free to bury her daughter ever sound anything less than tragic.

  ‘How come you’re not in charge?’

  Shona sighed. ‘I didn’t see eye-to-eye with my boss. He thought I shouldn’t have been investigating Isla’s death in such detail.’ She paused and took a breath. ‘You know, I brought her body ashore with the lifeboat.’

  Marie’s eyes went to the RNLI logo on Shona’s jacket then back to her face. ‘No. I didnae know that.’ Shona sensed she was under scrutiny, Marie’s shrewd expression softening.

  ‘Maybe that’s what made me want to find out what happened,’ Shona said quietly. ‘Maybe I let it affect my judgement. I’m sorry. I feel that I’ve let you both down.’

  Marie turned away and Shona saw her take out a paper hankie. ‘This wind goes for your eyes,’ she said hastily, wiping away tears. After a moment she said, ‘You shouldnae blame yourself.’ Her eyes were on the far horizon of the Solway. Then she put out her hand and gripped Shona’s arm just above the wrist, and the two women stood watching the waves and the boys playing by the water.

  �
��Listen,’ said Marie eventually. ‘Mibbae you should have a cup of tea at my place. There’s something I’d like to show you.’

  * * *

  DCI Gavin Baird was in his office early after a sleepless night. Nicola had complained about his tossing and turning, she had an important day ahead, a meeting with a local party executive that might back her for a Scottish Parliament seat at the next election. She needed her sleep. For a moment he almost told her, told her where her ambition and social climbing had led them. But he was the one doing the climbing, Nicola was already up there.

  Finally, around four a.m., he’d gone downstairs, padding into the kitchen in sleep shorts and T-shirt to make some warm milk. He’d had one of the tech boys unlock Shona’s phone. Now he slipped it from the evidence bag, turning it over and over in his hand while he sipped his drink. He’d checked the call log, then opened the picture files. There was the woman Shona had fished from the Solway, before and after. Headshots of the illegal immigrant found on the motorway, and Wazir, the guy they’d nailed for the baby milk thefts. In the middle was a low-quality still from a CCTV camera showing two men in a street of Victorian terraced houses. Baird had scrolled past it but flicked back, scrutinising the monochrome blurs. Then he searched the original video files. He’d sat forward on the edge of the sofa, the milk going cold in his cup.

  Fuck. She had almost all the pieces. He’d been right to suspend her. He’d made a call, but it went straight to voicemail. He’d tried over and over with the same result, then spent the rest of the night on the sofa wrapped in one of Nicola’s fancy blankets, Shona’s phone in his hand, waiting for the dawn.

  Now, Baird paced his office. DCI Oliver’s phone lay on his desk like an accusation. Things should never have gone this far. Three murders, that’s what she was talking about. He glanced at the chair where she’d sat the evening before, looking at him. Her expression was plain: he was a plod, a dull copper who couldn’t join the dots. She was wrong, he had joined the dots. But he saw an entirely different picture.