by Lynne McEwan
‘This is Detective Inspector Shona Oliver.’ She fought to keep her voice steady. Becca? Where was Becca? ‘I need an ambulance. Kirkness RNLI station. A fifty-year-old man with head injuries, possible victim of an assault.’ They never kept cash at the shop but he could have disturbed thieves. Her phone went silent, the battery exhausted, but the ambulance was on its way. She prayed Becca had gone home, but then a noise came from upstairs, a muffled scrape and thump of something dragging across the floor. Becca? Shona jumped to her feet and felt her way to the door that led from the changing room to the boat hall. Light and voices spilled from the crew room above. Becca. She could hear Becca.
At the top of the stairs she stood blinking in the sudden brightness, then gasped. A nightmare tableau greeted her. Across the room, beside the crew table, Becca was slumped in a chair, her eyes closed. Six feet away, hands outstretched in a gesture of propitiation, was DCI Gavin Baird. Between them, a gun levelled at Becca’s head, his sharp suit creased and bloody, stood the man with the skull-like face. The man DC Dan Ridley was hunting fifty miles away in Carlisle. The man Isla said had killed Siobhan. Evan Campbell.
Chapter 34
For a second Shona stood frozen. A single upturned chair seemed too little for the latent violence, the brimming brutality of the scene. Shona recognised Campbell immediately as the man from the STAC reception. She’d been right all along. Blocks were shifting into place. Campbell, Baird, Kenny Hanlon, they were in this together.
Campbell pulled Becca to her feet, his arm around her neck. Her phone lay on the table by Campbell’s elbow. There were smudges of blood on her jeans and yellow T-shirt. Her sling had been used to tie her good hand to the splint on her broken arm. A muffled ‘mum’ escaped the gag across her mouth. It took every ounce of Shona’s training not to rush forward and tear her daughter from his hands. Stop, she told herself. Stay calm. She didn’t doubt for one minute that Campbell might kill them all.
‘Okay, okay Evan.’ She raised her arms in a placatory gesture. ‘What do you want?’
‘Late to the party, Shona, but what I’ve got to say willnae take long.’ He grinned at her, the angular lines of his face became even more skull-like. He motioned her to drop her phone on the table. ‘Smart bitch like you can probably work it out for yourself. Although my last wee warning went unheeded.’ He gripped Becca’s broken arm with his free hand. Becca flinched, the pain showing on her face. She stifled a sob and shot Campbell a defiant look. The dark 4x4. It was Campbell in the iron-grey Land Rover Discovery who’d hit her daughter. Shona wanted to rip his throat out. A savage panic was forcing its way out of her chest. She pushed down the urge to scream at him. Let my daughter go. I’m the one you want.
Instead she said, ‘It’s okay, Becca,’ and tried to smile reassuringly, but her expression felt white hard. She kept her eyes not on Becca or the gun, but on Campbell’s leering face. Whatever he meant to do, she would see it there first. ‘I’m here now. Tell me what you want, Evan. Put the gun down and let her go,’ she said with false calm. In the corner of her vision, Baird was tense and poised to intervene, but on whose side?
Baird took a step towards Campbell who turned and levelled the gun at him. ‘Now, now Gavie-boy, no interrupting.’
‘Let the girl go, Campbell,’ Baird persisted. ‘I told you, it’s sorted. My guy’s in Shona’s seat now, the cases are wrapped up. Back to business as usual.’
‘Aye, so you keep saying, but the bitch doesn’t take a telling.’ Campbell switched his glare back to Shona. It was like an icy blast, straight from hell.
‘Okay, okay. Put the gun down, Evan,’ Shona said. ‘There’s nothing I can do to you. I’m out of the force, I’m no threat to you. Let my daughter go.’
‘Not good enough. I say we kill them both now, keep it tidy.’
‘She’s right,’ Baird broke in. ‘You got away with the others cos nobody cared about a couple of junkies and an illegal immigrant. Kill a police officer and her daughter, and they’ll never stop hunting you. I’ll not be able to save you.’
A flicker of doubt crossed Campbell’s face. Baird pressed his advantage. ‘Know why she won’t talk? Because I’ve had a chat with Harry Delfont, her old boss. He says hello, by the way, Shona. Lots of dirt on this lassie, Evan. Juicy stuff.’ He raised his eyebrows chummily at the gunman. ‘And that dodgy banker husband. All those gambling debts Kenny helped him run up? The big man was right, should have just offered her a cut. No need for all these dramatics.’
Shona felt a wave of hot nausea. So, Kenny Hanlon had targeted her family. He’d preyed on Rob’s weakness, sent Campbell to run Becca down, all to get at her. And Delfont, she thought she’d escaped him. It would all come out now, everything she’d tried to hide. It took a fraction of a second for Shona to realise she didn’t care. Becca was the only thing that mattered. Shona’s world narrowed to her daughter, Campbell and the gun. The ambulance, the squad car despatched with them, Dan Ridley, Murdo, even Rob were all too far away. She dragged her eyes from Campbell and swept the room for a weapon. A heavy wooden oar, engraved in gold with the names of past Kirkness rowing champions, was propped in the corner by the door. Pictures flooded through her mind; Siobhan’s lifeless body, Jamie Buckland curled like a sleeping child. You couldn’t reason with Campbell. He would always take what he wanted unless someone stopped him. Unless she stopped him.
‘Put the gun away, let the lassie go,’ Baird hissed, red-eyed. ‘It’s fixed. You walk. Get back to business. Keep the big man happy. We all get what we want.’
Campbell grinned. ‘Aye, maybe you’re right. Not worth the bother.’ He let the gun fall to his side but kept hold of Becca.
Baird’s shoulders relaxed. ‘Let’s get out of here.’
‘Seems a shame, I was looking forward to topping that bitch.’ Campbell licked his lips and leered at Shona.
‘You’re a sick fuck, Campbell. Get out of here.’
‘What, no got the balls for it? Seems to me it’s your lack of balls that landed us here. Hanlon always said you were weak.’
Shona saw the flash of anger twist on Baird’s face. He was a DCI, used to respect. He stepped up to Campbell. ‘You’re the weak link, Campbell. You should be on a leash.’
‘Is that a fact?’ Campbell threw Becca aside and brought the gun swiftly against Baird’s chest. The two men stood toe-to-toe, neither willing to give way. Baird’s bulk blocked Campbell’s view. Quickly, Shona pulled Becca’s towards her and with clumsy fingers pulled down the gag and undid the sling binding her hands together. The stairway down from the mezzanine floor was only a few feet away. Shona put her mouth close to Becca’s ear. ‘Get out. Run.’ She turned her body to shield her daughter’s escape. But Becca hesitated, unwilling to let go of her mother. ‘Go, go. I’m right behind you,’ Shona urged, eyeing the two men.
‘You’re an animal, Campbell.’ Baird was spitting, the tamped-down anger bubbling up. Campbell’s scorn, the humiliating shove down the restaurant stairs. ‘You’re gonna bring us all down. Think the Big Man’s going to like hearing about this?’ he threatened. ‘Thugs like you are ten-a-penny. Just a cog. Probably got someone lined up already to take your place.’
‘Maybe he shouldn’t hear it then.’ Campbell’s savage face was inches from Baird’s.
Baird barked a laugh. ‘I’m a detective chief inspector. You need my protection. Shoot me and you’re dead too. Hanlon will drop you like the turd you are.’
‘You…’ as Campbell’s left hand went to Baird’s throat, the detective made a grab for the gun. The two men lurched sideways, locked in a vicious embrace. Shona pushed Becca stumbling down the darkened stairway and took a step after her. Then she stopped.
Baird had prevented Campbell shooting them both. He was mixed up with the Hanlon, with the supply of drugs, but his hatred of Campbell showed it wasn’t too late for him. With his help she could bring down Campbell and Hanlon, end this nightmare of killings. Whatever he’d done, it was her job to protect a fellow officer and e
nsure the safety of the public. She turned back just as the flash of light and the roar of the gun’s explosion filled the room. Both men were thrown backward. Shona saw Baird fall, the stench of cordite caught in her throat.
Baird stayed down, blood blooming across the detective’s white shirt, but his opponent scrambled to his feet and aimed the killing shot. Shona grabbed the oar and swung it at Campbell, catching him a glancing blow. The bullet missed Baird and sent up a plume of plaster as it struck the wall. Shona jabbed again at Campbell’s outstretched arm, but he sidestepped her and the weight of the oar sent her crashing to the floor. Baird lay next to her, his breath fast and shallow. Campbell levelled the pistol at her. Time slowed as Shona’s mind raced to a thousand different places. No matter where she looked the dark circle of the gun barrel swallowed her. There was no way out. Campbell’s death-head stare would be the last thing she saw. ‘Should have done you first, bitch.’ She heard the bang, the flash wiping out all vision. The room tilted and tumbled in an arc of noise, a red stench filling her nose and ears.
Campbell let out a howl as he was flung backward. Shona scrambled to her knees. Smoke arced through the room. Becca was at the top of the stairs, the launch tube of a red parachute flare still gripped clumsily in her hands. The rocket, having struck Campbell a glancing blow, ricocheted off the walls and cupboards. Shona heard it chime loudly against the metal roller door of the boat hall then clatter onto the concrete floor. Shona blinked sweat and smoke from her eyes. Campbell’s prone form lay by the mezzanine rail, writhing in the thickened air.
Below, in the boat hall, the delayed ignition of the flare exploded into life. The thousand degree burn of bright red magnesium crackled and popped. It sent up a glow of leaping, bloody shadows over the walls and rafters. Suddenly, a solid mass twisted through the smoke and darkness. Campbell was on his feet, one arm hanging strangely from the impact of the flare. But he raised the other, the gun levelled at Becca.
Shona grabbed the heavy wooden oar, the smoke swirling as the blade cut through the fiery air. ‘Get away from my daughter, you bastard!’ she roared, swinging at Campbell with all her strength. Before he could alter his aim, the oar caught him square in the chest, propelling him back against the mezzanine rail. He scrabbled desperately for purchase, but the slippery forms of the immersion suits hanging like chrysalises over the barrier offered none, and with a scream he tumbled backward out of sight. Shona heard the crack as he hit the metal outboard of the Margaret Wilson. She rushed forward and looked cautiously down. The scarlet flare lit the boat bay like a scene from hell and the devil himself, Evan Campbell, lay motionless in the lifeboat.
Becca ran to her mother, cradling her injured arm against her chest. ‘I got it from the night bag. Callum said… Callum said it must never be pointed at people and property, but I had to stop him. I had to…’ Shona pulled her daughter into a fierce hug. ‘It’s okay, it’s okay. You saved my life. You saved all our lives, that’s what you did.’ She pressed Becca’s face against her own, taking deep breaths of her daughter’s scent.
If time had slowed before, now it sped up. Baird lay on the crew room floor gasping, his eyes wide and fixed on the ceiling as blood bubbled from the corner of his mouth. The urgent tick of a life draining away. Shona pulled a towel from a kitbag in the corner and pressed it to the chest wound. Becca slid to the floor. She took a quick sideways glance at Baird. ‘He tried to save me, but the guy wouldn’t listen.’
Shona leaned over Baird. His eyelids were drooping, his face a deathly white. Blood was seeping through Shona’s fingers. ‘Gavin, can you hear me?’
‘Hanlon… got to stop them,’ he gasped.
‘How, Gavin? How do I stop them?’ Shona leant forward; his whispering breath fluttered like birds’ wings against her cheek.
‘I… Not money… clean.’ Baird’s fingers were searching for something to cling on to and she took his hand squeezing it tightly. ‘Never meant… to harm you…’
‘I know, I know, Gavin,’ Shona said desperately. ‘How do I stop them?’
‘Hard…’ He breathed, his eyes rolling back. Shona felt the blood soaking her jeans, seeping up from the carpet as struggled to hold onto Baird.
‘I know it will be. Help me stop them.’
‘Shared…’
‘What? What did you share? Gavin, open your eyes for me,’ she called desperately. ‘The ambulance is coming.’ But as the faltering red glow of the exhausted flare was replaced by sweeping blue lights, Baird’s slackened muscles and glassy stare told her it was too late.
She heard a commotion in the boat hall. Voices yelling, ‘Police, show yourselves.’
‘Up here,’ she shouted. Constable Guy Matthews appeared at the top of the stairs, followed by the bright red hair of Special Lewis Johnstone, torches waving like searchlights through the lingering smoke. Their jaws dropped at the scene of horror before them. ‘Get the paramedics,’ Shona yelled. Her last ditch attempts to revive Baird were failing, blood seeping from the gunshot wound with every chest compression. ‘Matthews, that’s the shooter.’ She pointed a bloody finger over the rail at the boat bay. ‘Secure the weapon, it’s down there somewhere.’
Suddenly, Murdo was at her elbow, pulling her away. Outside, Becca ran to Tommy, who was sitting on the pavement, a dressing held to his head. Kirkness residents were gathering, drawn by the sirens descending on their village. Shona searched in vain for Rob among the shocked crowd lit by the flickering blue beams of the emergency vehicles.
‘Boss?’ Murdo’s face had a thousand questions. ‘You okay?’ He gripped her shoulders.
‘Yes, yes.’ She nodded. ‘I guess you’ll need statements…’ She was suddenly overwhelmed with exhaustion.
‘Never mind that now. I’m taking you and Becca to hospital.’ Murdo kept one arm round Shona as he led her to where Becca sat, a blanket over her shoulders. Shona leaned gratefully against his solid bulk, her limbs suddenly heavy with tiredness. ‘It was Evan Campbell. You need to secure the scene, get forensics down here…’
‘Aye well, never you mind that. Campbell’s dead, broken neck. He’s not going anywhere. Ravi and Kate are on their way. I think you should get checked.’ He motioned to a bruise on Shona’s face which she had no idea how she sustained. ‘Is Baird really…’
‘Yes, Campbell shot him. Dan…’ Shona felt her pockets. Her phone was out of charge and lying somewhere in the crew room with Baird’s lifeless body. ‘Tell Dan what’s happened.’
‘Shona, Shona.’
The voice sounded fuzzy, far away over the tinnitus roar, a residue of the gunshots. Rob had burst through the police cordon and seconds later enveloped Shona and Becca in a tight embrace. She could feel the wet smear of tears across his cheeks. His breath came in huge gulps and he was shaking with shock. Murdo motioned away the constable who’d run after Rob and was trying to restrain him.
‘Right, no arguments,’ said Murdo. ‘Have you had a drink today, Rob?’ He turned to Shona’s husband, once more the severe officer in charge.
Rob looked chastened by Murdo’s tone. ‘No, I haven’t.’ Shona thought of the whisky she’d emptied down the sink and their lack of cash, and decided he was telling the truth.
‘Right well, I’ve a job for you. Take your wife and daughter to hospital. Get them checked over. Think you can do that for me?’
‘Yes, yes, of course,’ Rob said, pulling Shona and Becca close. ‘I can look after my family.’ He sounded as if he was convincing himself as much as Murdo, but when Shona looked at the firm set of his jaw and the determination in his eyes, she knew he meant it.
Chapter 35
Nearly two weeks later, on a bleak Thursday afternoon, Shona buttoned up the front of her black wool coat and straightened her shoulders. The mournful drone of bagpipes filled the damp October air. The guard of honour came to attention as a single piper led the funeral procession towards the crematorium. DCI Gavin Baird’s coffin was carried on the shoulders of uniformed officers and draped with a white b
anner showing the Police Scotland shield. Detective Superintendent Malcom Munroe, in full dress uniform and medals, walked behind the piper. Baird’s widow Nicola and their children were in the following car.
Shona had given a brief statement about Gavin Baird’s death. Now she heard echoes of her own words in the police chaplain’s address. A brave officer. Cut down in the line of duty. Gave his life to protect others.
Murdo was waiting for her in the car after the tea and ham sandwiches at a local hotel. ‘Let’s give her an hour to get back to the house,’ Shona said, and Murdo nodded in agreement.
They pulled up to Baird’s detached villa in Newton Mearns just as the light was going. The orange glow from the picture windows spilled out onto the gravel drive. In the living room, Nicola was still wearing her fitted black dress but had shrugged off the matching coat. Her phone was pressed to her ear. She laughed at something the caller said as she unpinned her tightly wound chignon of blonde hair and shook it free.
‘I shouldn’t be long,’ Shona said to Murdo.
Nicola was composed when she opened the door, but her expression turned to ice when she saw Shona. ‘Come to give your condolences?’ she spat. ‘Gavin died saving you and your daughter.’
She was right. Shona felt the stirring of compassion for the woman’s loss, but it soon faded. She’d held Gavin Baird’s hand while he died, but Nicola had not asked her for a single detail of her husband’s passing. Did he suffer? Did he ask for me? Shona had been ready with a softer, sanitised version of the truth, but it wasn’t needed.
‘I’m sorry for your loss, but I’m not responsible for your husband’s death,’ Shona said levelly. Nicola tried to slam the door, but Shona stepped forward, her raised arm blocking the doorway. ‘Can I come in for a minute? There’s some files of Gavin’s I need to retrieve.’
