In Dark Water

by Lynne McEwan

  ‘What about the murders?’ Shona asked, accepting coffee from Munroe.

  ‘The lawyers will distance him from Evan Campbell, even with the CCTV and documents. Can you imagine how Hanlon will work a jury?’

  Shona could imagine it. The contrite martyr led astray. His charity work, his role in the Scottish Trade Against Crime project, which she was convinced was little more than a cover for his criminal activities. The jury would probably give him a round of applause. ‘What will happen about DCI Baird, sir?’

  ‘DCI Baird was compiling the dossier as part of Operation Fortress. He had his suspicions about Mr Hanlon but, due to The Enterpriser’s high profile, the information was kept between Baird and me. Unfortunately, DCI Baird fell in the line of duty before he could complete the case. That’s the line we’re sticking to, Shona, understand? I expect scrupulous honesty in my officers, but Baird has paid with his life. I’m no friend to a dishonest cop but there’s nothing to be gained from making Baird the scapegoat in this.’

  ‘Do you know how far this goes? Hanlon’s connected and Campbell boasted he had judges and cops in his pocket.’

  ‘Let me tell you about Campbell. He was Hanlon’s man, but Baird brought him in originally as an informer, codenamed Archer. He was with an Edinburgh county lines set-up, a disaffected grunt with notions of grandeur. There’s no institutional corruption, just straightforward greed and stupidity. It gets people into bother more often than you’d think. Baird played this close to his chest. His officers are loyal to him, but I saw nothing in the file to suggest they knew about Hanlon. Did you?’

  ‘No sir.’

  ‘Good, let’s keep it that way. There will be scrutiny, internal and from the media. Let’s stick to the facts.’

  ‘The children Sami Raseem said were being trafficked?’

  ‘It’s more likely they were mules, county lines kids, but I’ve asked the child protection team in Edinburgh to go through what we have, just in case.’

  Shona nodded.

  ‘One more thing.’ Munroe continued placing his cup and saucer carefully on the glass-topped table. ‘I’d like you to take Baird’s job.’

  Shona stared at him. ‘Me?’

  ‘You’ve got the experience. All that time in the City of London force, you’re a bit wasted down in Dumfries. I’ll back you, it’ll go before an interview panel, but you’ll get it. I want you here running the big cases. You can pick your team.’ Munroe sat back and folded his arms, confident that the deal was done. ‘You’d need to move closer to Kilmarnock. It would be less hands-on, but that happens to everyone eventually.’

  Shona thought of her young officers, Kate and Ravi. They’d be thrilled and rise to the challenges. She could bring Dan in full-time and show Murdo that promotion hadn’t passed him by. She could give good, solid Murdo a role that played to his strengths and kept everyone’s feet on the ground. She saw it all. This could work. But then the dark mass that had hovered by her shoulder ever since her husband’s drunken confession stepped forward.

  ‘Sir,’ Shona began; her hand shook as she replaced her cup in its saucer, the china chiming like a passing bell. Her whole world was about to come crashing down, all she’d worked for – career, reputation, financial security. It was over. ‘Sir, I don’t think I’m the right person for the job.’ She told him of Rob’s gambling and the Milton McConnell bank fraud. How Hanlon knew of this and might use it at the trial.

  Munroe’s face clouded. ‘I see. Thank you for telling me.’ He paused and shook his head. Shona knew her chief inspector prospects had gone for good. ‘This is bad, Shona. Your husband,’ he continued, ‘will need to report this to the City of London police right away. I said I expect scrupulous honesty in my officers and you’ve just proved yours. Providing no blame attaches to you, and I don’t expect it will, I’m still offering you the job.’

  She could just nod, walk out a DCI with a pay rise, God knows they needed it. It would mean choosing between her work, her family life and the lifeboat. A move closer to Glasgow. Becca might like that. A fresh start, another one. But the shadow by her shoulder hadn’t gone. It lingered. How many times did she have to start over before it ended up being the same? The gambling, the running, the lies.

  ‘Sir, there’s something else.’ Shona swallowed hard. No more running away. This was her chance to face up to the past and take the consequences. She might leave this office without a job, but the prospect of finally laying down the guilt she had carried for two years rushed over her like a wave. ‘I left the City because DSU Delfont gave me no choice.’

  Munroe shifted uncomfortably in his chair, but Shona could see he was listening intently. She hurried on; there was no going back now. ‘I was caught drunk at the wheel of a car, although I think, in retrospect, my drink was spiked. He told me I could leave or be charged.’

  Munroe folded his hands and bowed his head for a moment. ‘Shona,’ he said gently. ‘Are you aware that DSU Delfont was arrested recently on charges of corruption and sexual misconduct? Two female officers alleged he drugged them and filmed himself sexually assaulting them.’

  The darkness rushed to fill her vision. Shona dug her fingernails into the palm of her hand. She remembered waking up, her car pulled over on the hard shoulder of the Docklands expressway, a traffic officer tapping on her window. She’d been at a leaving party and had one drink, wanting to get home early, but had woken up with no idea how she got there. At the station she’d gone to the bathroom and found her underwear was on back to front. Delfont had bought the drinks. Did he assault and film her while she was drugged? It was what she’d always feared. She let out a shuddering sob. She’d had no physical injuries, but that didn’t mean it hadn’t happened.

  Munroe leaned forward and put his hand over hers. ‘Delfont will go to jail, lass. You’ve nothing to fear from him and nothing to repent for yourself.’ Shona nodded, the biblical language recalling Munroe’s status as a teetotal church elder. But she did repent. She’d made a bad decision. Two women had been brave enough to come forward. The fear was ebbing, anger was flooding into its place. Well, now there would be three women standing up to the bastard. She would have to talk Rob and Becca first, but it was time to set everything straight, everything she could. Munroe was handing her a tissue.

  She took it and rubbed her nose. ‘I’m all right, sir.’

  ‘That man, a police officer. He’s a disgrace.’ Munroe was grim. ‘If he’d laid a finger on one of my girls, I’d have strung him up myself. I understand why people take the law into their own hands, I really do.’

  ‘You said corruption charges. Why corruption?’ Shona had worked for Delfont for two years. She knew the rumours and had flagged a couple of case anomalies which she was convinced led to Delfont targeting her.

  ‘It’s alleged he was helping drugs gangs launder money through City companies. It involved buying gold, I don’t know more than that.’

  Buying gold. Untraceable. That’s what Rob said. It was Delfont. Had he set them both up? If Rob revealed the money laundering fraud, Delfont could use Shona’s alleged drunk driving to keep him quiet. If Shona threatened Delfont, he’d make sure Rob went to jail. She must talk to Rob.

  ‘Listen, Shona.’ Munroe was getting to his feet. ‘I’ve got to go, but you’ve had a shock. Sit here till you feel better, my secretary’s just down the way if you need anything.’

  ‘Thank you, sir, I’m fine.’ Shona gave him a weak smile. ‘I’d just like to get back home.’

  ‘Of course, of course.’ He patted her shoulders. ‘Listen, you did a brave thing telling me this. I believe you’re a fine officer and I’d still like you to consider the job.’

  ‘Thank you, sir. I’ll think about it,’ Shona said, but she already knew what she wanted to do.

  * * *

  Shona took Rob’s hand. ‘I made a really bad decision once.’ She saw the look of apprehension in his eyes. ‘It was when Becca was expelled and you left the bank.’ She felt him try to pull his hand away. ‘
No, wait. Listen to what I have to say. I buried my head in the sand, for years I pretended it didn’t happen.’ She told him about Delfont, how he’d pressured her into leaving and what might have happened in the car. For a moment Rob said nothing, he just stared at her, open-mouthed, then his face crumpled and he pulled her close and started to cry. ‘I’ll kill him, I’ll kill that bastard for what he did to you.’

  ‘Listen though, there’s more. He’s been arrested for corruption. Money laundering via gold purchases.’ Shona saw the spark of recognition in Rob’s eyes. ‘You know what this means?’ She continued, ‘He targeted both of us. That’s why Milton McConnell set you up, they wanted you to go quietly. It also means we both have to face up to what happened, tell the investigators what we know and take the consequences. But I think we can survive that if we support each other. If you want to, that is.’

  ‘You kidding? Shona, there’s only ever been you. You’re like no one I’ve ever met. I don’t know if I can beat this gambling thing, but I’m gonnae give the therapy everything I’ve got, because the one thing I do know is my life is infinitely better with you in it. I love you.’ He kissed her. ‘So you’re no getting rid of me just yet. You’re the one sure thing in my life and I never, never want to be without you.’

  ‘We’re going to have to look at the financial situation,’ she warned.

  ‘I know,’ he said seriously. ‘I think there’s a way to continue the B&B, but it will mean re-mortgaging.’

  ‘Well, let’s not make any other decisions right now. I need a cup of tea.’ She smiled at him. ‘I do love you too. Come on, get the kettle on.’ She pulled him from the office and into the kitchen.

  Becca had her back to them, washing up with one hand. Outside, the sun had vanished behind the hills across the estuary and the day was dimming down. ‘By the way, I’ve decided I want to be home schooled. I’ve worked out a timetable.’ She didn’t turn round, but Shona knew she was watching their reaction in the reflection of the kitchen window.

  ‘Okay, but won’t you get lonely?’ Shona said neutrally, exchanging a glance with Rob, who didn’t seem too worried by the idea.

  ‘I’ve decided to do archaeology at Glasgow University.’ Becca slid a plate onto the draining board.

  Rob leaned past Shona to grab a tea towel. ‘Archaeology?’ he said under his breath. ‘Where the hell did that come from?’

  ‘Don’t look at me,’ Shona muttered.

  ‘I can apply without A-levels or Highers if I have voluntary and practical experience,’ Becca continued. ‘But I’ll need maths and English. Since we’ve got Bees Wing Community Teaching Co-operative nearby, I thought Dad could teach maths there and they’d let me sit my exams with them. Maybe he could get some paid tutoring, I know we need the money.’

  ‘Great, I’ll have a home-grown crop of embezzlers and insider traders on my patch to deal with,’ Shona muttered to Rob.

  ‘I’m genuinely hurt by that remark,’ he said, handing her the second tea towel, but he didn’t look it. Perhaps the thought of losing everything – home, family, her – had given him everything he needed to change. She knew she was outnumbered and out-gunned. ‘I’m not saying no,’ she said eventually. ‘We’ll need to talk it over a bit more.’ Behind her, Rob and Becca bumped fists and smiled.

  * * *

  Shona walked down to the lifeboat station. She’d call Munroe in the morning and thank him for his offer. There’d been enough change, enough running. She was staying here, for now. The main road along the seafront had been closed off and Kirkness Arts Festival was in full swing. The smell of haggis burgers and cooked fish drifted on the wind, making her stomach rumble. A man in a kilt wheeled a trolley of gin along the pavement in front of her, the bottles clinking like an advancing army.

  Tommy McCall stood on the concrete apron outside the station and brandished his RNLI donations bucket. The dressing had come off and a neat line of stitches along his brow and a shiny black eye gave him a pirate air. ‘That piece in the papers and on the news has done us the world of good,’ he said to Shona, easing the almost full bucket to the ground. Callum the postman was showing a group of giggling girls over the Margaret Wilson. The crew room was out of action, but with donations pouring in it would soon be fixed.

  Next door, Tommy’s boatyard had been given over to a group of artists busy hanging exuberant oils of seaside scenes and displaying sculptures fashioned from driftwood. A crowd out front was cheering a young man juggling lit-up neon clubs. It would soon be dark. Later, Shona planned to watch the yacht club fireworks with Rob and Becca.

  Shona saw Tommy’s expression change. He reached into his pocket for the vibrating pager. ‘Shout,’ he called to Shona, pulling out his phone and hitting the entry marked Coastguard Red Line. ‘Family with children caught by the tide on Rock Island.’ He relayed the distress call that had come in to the coastguard minutes earlier. ‘Shona, I’m giving you authority to launch. This is yours and Callum’s, if you want it?’ He gave her a calculating look.

  ‘I’m fine and I want it.’ Shona ran past him. ‘Callum,’ she called. ‘You and me.’ The postman gave her a thumbs up and quickly loaded the first aid bag into the Margaret Wilson. Tommy started the tractor and prepared to back her out.

  Other crew were arriving and cleared the visitors from the path to the slipway. Shona took the helm as they launched lifeboat D-855 to enthusiastic applause from the crowd, who assumed this was all part of the festival show. Four minutes later they spotted the family; parents, two children and a small dog, shivering and cut off on the tidal island by the rising water. White foam arced above the rocks as the short, sharp sea advanced towards the stranded visitors.

  ‘Callum!’ Shona shouted over the noise of the engine. ‘Here, take the helm. Nudge us in.’ They swapped places. Shona leaned over the bow. The parents’ faces were white ovals of fear. She reached out her hand and smiled. ‘Hi, I’m Shona. I’m here to help.’

  Acknowledgements

  To my agent Anne Williams, who possesses the magical ability to turn dreams into reality. Thank you, and all at KHLA, for your expertise, persistence and encouragement.

  To my editor Louise Cullen and the dedicated and passionate team at Canelo, especially Siân Heap and Deborah Blake, my sincere thanks for making it all happen.

  I’m enormously grateful to Steve Austin, Lifeboat Deputy Launch Authority at RNLI Cleethorpes, for the technical advice and wisdom. Thank you also to former DCI Stuart Gibbon for an early insight into police methodology and best practice. Shona and I were listening, any errors are mine.

  To Charles Simpson, thank you for being my first intrepid reader and for your wise comments and enthusiasm.

  To my friend Fiona MacDonnell, who was there just at the right time and provided such excellent research suggestions.

  Crime writers are a supportive bunch and my special thanks go to authors Meghan Taylor, Stephen Booth, Henry Sutton, Tom Benn, Nathan Ashman & Julia Crouch for pointing me in the right direction and pushing me on, and my fellow UEA Crime Fiction students for their excellence and strength.

  A huge thank you to my family; my parents John and Netta McEwan, brother Eric, and Cath and Hugh Oliver, who loaned more than a name to Shona. And finally, Leo, Chloe and Mickey, I couldn’t have done it without you.

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  About the Author

  Glasgow-born Lynne McEwan is a former newspaper photographer turned crime author. She’s covered stories including the Fall of the Berlin Wall and the first Gulf War in addition to many high profile murder cases. She currently lives in Lincoln and is in the final year of an MA in Crime Fiction at the University of East Anglia.

  First publishe
d in the United Kingdom in 2021 by Canelo

  Canelo Digital Publishing Limited

  31 Helen Road

  Oxford OX2 0DF

  United Kingdom

  Copyright © Lynne McEwan, 2021

  The moral right of Lynne McEwan to be identified as the creator of this work has been asserted in accordance with the Copyright, Designs and Patents Act, 1988.

  All rights reserved. No part of this publication may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopy, recording, or any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the publisher.

  A CIP catalogue record for this book is available from the British Library.

  Ebook ISBN 9781800324312

  Print ISBN 9781800324329

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, businesses, organizations, places and events are either the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

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