Written in Bone dh-2

by Simon Beckett

  ‘It’s police business,’ Fraser growled.

  ‘Aye, and this is my ferry, and my radio. You want to use it, you can tell me what’s so urgent.’

  ‘We can’t yet, Iain,’ Brody interposed, smoothly. ‘But it’s important. Trust me on that.’

  ‘This is our island. We’ve a right to know what’s going on.’

  ‘I know, and you will, I promise.’

  ‘When?’

  Brody sighed. ‘Tonight. But right now we need to contact the mainland.’

  ‘Now listen-’ Fraser began, but Brody spoke over him.

  ‘You’ve got my word.’

  Kinross stared at him, his expression giving nothing away. Then he got up and headed for the door.

  ‘Where are you going?’ Brody asked.

  ‘You wanted me to try the radio, I have.’

  ‘Can’t you keep trying?’

  ‘No. Anyone could hear, we’d know by now.’

  ‘What about other ships? Someone could relay a message back to the mainland for us. The cliffs wouldn’t block that.’

  ‘Maybe not, but they’re still going to funnel the signal, and the set’s range is only thirty miles. You want to waste your time pissing in the wind, that’s up to you, but you can do it by yourselves.’ He indicated the handset. ‘Press the switch to talk, let go to receive. And switch it off when you’ve finished.’

  With that he walked out. As the door banged shut behind him. Fraser turned on Brody, angrily.

  ‘What the hell do you think you’re doing? You’ve no authority to tell them anything!’

  ‘We don’t have any choice. We need these people’s help. You’re not going to get it by yelling.’

  Fraser’s face was crimson. ‘One of those bastards killed Duncan!’

  ‘Aye, and antagonising everyone’s not going to find out who did it.’ Brody stopped, restraining himself. He took a deep breath. ‘Kinross is right. There’s no point wasting any more time here when Strachan’s yacht has a satellite comms system. We can call into the school on the way and see if Grace is there.’

  ‘And if she’s not?’ Fraser demanded, truculently.

  ‘Then we’ll wait at the house until one of them gets home,’ Brody grated, clearly not happy himself at having to ask anything of Strachan. ‘Unless you’ve any better ideas?’

  Fraser hadn’t. We drove up through the village from the harbour, but when we reached the school Grace’s black Porsche wasn’t outside. The small building was unlit and empty.

  ‘They must have sent the kids home early because of the power cut. We probably missed her when we detoured to see Kinross,’ Brody said, his frustration evident.

  There was nothing to do but head for Strachan’s house and hope she was there. Fraser drove in moody silence. I couldn’t help but feel sorry for him. He wasn’t an easy man to like, but Duncan’s death had hit him hard. And he’d been out of his depth even before his colleague was murdered.

  We were approaching the big house when the sergeant suddenly tensed.

  ‘What the hell’s he doing?’

  Strachan’s Saab was tearing down the road directly towards us. Fraser swore and swerved into the side, stamping on the brake as the Saab skidded to a halt just a few feet away.

  ‘Bloody idiot!’ Fraser cursed.

  Strachan had jumped out and was running towards us, not even bothering to close his car door. Fraser angrily wound down the window and yelled at him.

  ‘What the hell are you playing at?’

  Strachan didn’t seem to hear. His face was shockingly pale, his eyes wide and scared as he bent to the open window.

  ‘Grace is missing!’ he gasped.

  ‘What do you mean, missing?’ Fraser demanded.

  ‘I mean she’s missing! She’s gone!’

  Brody had climbed out of the Range Rover. ‘Slow down and tell us what’s happened.’

  ‘I’ve told you! Christ, are you all bloody deaf? We have to find her!’

  ‘We will, but you’re going to have to calm down and tell us what you know.’

  Strachan made an effort to compose himself. ‘I got back a few minutes ago. Grace’s car was here, and there were lights on and music playing, so I thought she was in the house. She’d left a cup of coffee going cold in the kitchen, but when I called she didn’t answer. I looked in every room, but there’s no sign of her!’

  ‘Couldn’t she have gone for a walk?’ Fraser asked.

  ‘Grace? In this weather? Look, why are we just standing here, we’ve got to do something!’

  Brody turned to Fraser, automatically assuming command. ‘We need to organize a search. Go back to the village and bring as many people back as you can.’

  ‘What about you?’ Fraser asked, not liking being told what to do.

  ‘I’m going to go up to the house and take a look.’

  ‘I’ve told you, she isn’t there!’ Strachan almost yelled.

  ‘We’ll take another look anyway. Dr Hunter, do you want to come with me?’

  I’d been about to suggest it anyway. If Grace was hurt I’d be more use here than rounding up a search party in the village. We hurried over to the Saab as Fraser drove off in the Range Rover.

  ‘What do you think?’ I asked Brody, in a low voice.

  He just shook his head, his expression grim.

  Strachan had left the Saab’s engine running. He barely waited for us to get in before he set off, reversing back up the road and up the driveway before screeching to a halt next to Grace’s black Porsche SUV. Without waiting to see if we followed, he ran into the house shouting his wife’s name. The only response was frenzied barking from the dog in the kitchen.

  ‘See, she’s not here!’ he said, pushing his hand through his hair distractedly. ‘And Oscar was running around outside when I got back. If Grace had gone anywhere she wouldn’t have just left him outside like that!’

  There was a knot of tension in my gut as I heard the catch in his voice. I knew what he was going through. I’d once gone to Jenny’s house and found the same terrible absence myself. There had been a killer loose then as well, and being here now, seeing the fear in Strachan’s eyes, gave me a terrible sense of deja vu.

  But Brody remained calm as we carried out a quick search of the house. There was no sign of Grace.

  ‘We’re just wasting time!’ Strachan said as we finished, his panic nearing the surface.

  ‘Did you look in the outbuildings?’ Brody asked.

  ‘Yes! There’s only the barn, and she’s not in there!’

  ‘What about the cove?’

  Strachan just stared at him. ‘I…No, but Grace never goes down there, not without me.’

  ‘Let’s take a look anyway, shall we?’

  Strachan led us into the kitchen. A half-drunk cup of coffee stood on the table, a book opened but face down next to it, as though Grace had merely stepped out for a moment. Impatiently pushing the retriever aside, Strachan went out through the back door and rushed for the steps leading down to the cove.

  I’d been half afraid we’d see Grace’s broken body lying on the shingle below us. But except for the yacht moored at the short jetty, the cove was empty. It was a beautiful boat, its hull squeaking against the rubber fenders as the sea threw it about, tall mast swinging back and forth like the arm of a broken metronome.

  Strachan hurried along the jetty towards it. He bounded up the gangplank and ran to the cockpit. I was slower to board, struggling for balance with one arm strapped up. As I stepped on to the deck Strachan threw back the cockpit hatch and suddenly froze.

  When I reached him I saw why.

  Like the rest of the yacht, the cockpit was beautifully equipped: teak panels, stainless steel fittings, and an elaborate instrument console. Or what was left of it. The radio and satcom had been smashed to pieces, the deck below them littered with torn wires and broken circuitry.

  Strachan stared at it for a moment, then rushed through the cockpit to the main cabin.

  ‘Grace?
Oh, God, Grace!’

  She lay on the cabin’s floor. Her head and shoulders were covered with a sack, but below that Grace’s white parka was clearly visible. She lay curled on her side, arms pulled behind her and tied behind her back.

  From the waist down she was naked.

  Or almost. Her feet hadn’t been bound, but her jeans had been left pulled down around her ankles, tethering them as securely as a rope. Her pants were around her knees, as though her attacker had been interrupted in the act of removing them.

  She looked obscenely vulnerable lying there, her long legs bare and blue-white with the cold. She wasn’t moving. I thought we were too late, but then Strachan touched her and she suddenly began to thrash around.

  ‘Hold her, don’t let her hurt herself!’ I warned, trying to catch her feet.

  ‘It’s all right, Grace, it’s me! It’s me!’ Strachan said, yanking the sacking from her head.

  Underneath it her hair was a tangled mess, obscuring her face. A piece of dirty cloth had been crammed into her mouth. Above it her eyes were wide and terrified, but then they fixed on Strachan and she immediately stopped struggling.

  ‘It’s all right, I’m here, it’s all right!’ he chanted, easing the gag from her mouth. She sucked in a breath, sobbing.

  ‘Michael, oh, thank God, Michael!’

  Her face was flushed and puffy, the skin imprinted with the rough hessian pattern of the sack. Her right cheek was discoloured by a livid bruise, and her mouth was swollen and bloody. But other than that there were no obvious injuries I could see.

  ‘Are you all right? Are you hurt?’ Strachan was asking her, his voice cracked.

  ‘No, I…I don’t think so.’

  ‘Did he sexually assault you?’ Brody asked bluntly.

  ‘Oh, for God’s sake!’ Strachan exploded. Even I was shocked at the question.

  But Grace was shaking her head. ‘No…no, he didn’t…I wasn’t raped.’

  Thank God, I thought. At least she’d been spared that. And it was probably better to deal with the issue now and get it out of the way. Perhaps Brody wasn’t being insensitive after all.

  Tears were running down Strachan’s face as he tenderly brushed the hair from his wife’s face. ‘Who did it? Did you see him?’

  ‘I don’t know, I…I…’

  He hugged her. ‘Shh, it’s all right, it’s over now. It’s over.’

  Brody and I gave them as much privacy as we could while Strachan drew up Grace’s underwear and jeans. I tried to unfasten the rope binding her wrists, but it had been tied too tightly for me to manage with one hand. The skin was chafed and abraded, her hands white from restricted circulation. Brody had to search for a knife to cut it, then we stood back as Strachan helped Grace to her feet.

  ‘Help me carry her,’ Strachan said to Brody, their feud temporarily forgotten.

  ‘I can walk,’ Grace said.

  ‘I don’t think-’

  ‘I’m all right, I can walk!’

  She was still crying, but there was none of the hysteria I’d feared. Brody and I stayed a discreet distance behind them as Strachan supported her along the jetty. Grace huddled against him, the two of them so oblivious to anyone else that I felt like an intruder.

  As we climbed the steps out of the cove, the seagulls’ lonely cries sounded like mocking laughter on the wind.

  CHAPTER 19

  I CLEANED AND dressed Grace’s wounds while Fraser took her statement. He’d arrived with a convoy of cars from the village shortly after we’d taken Grace back to the house. Strachan had objected to his wife being questioned so soon, but I’d suggested that it was best to get it over with. She would have to tell her story again when the mainland police arrived, but meanwhile it was better for her to describe what had happened while the memory was still fresh. Not only could early debriefing help avoid psychological trauma in assault victims, at least this way I’d be able to make sure Fraser didn’t push her too hard.

  Somehow I didn’t think he’d be the most sensitive of interviewers.

  Strachan had sent everyone who’d come to help search for Grace back home again, after he’d distractedly thanked and reassured them that she wasn’t badly hurt. Shock and anger was visible on all their faces. Even though news of Duncan’s death hadn’t yet spread, by now everyone had heard that the body found at the cottage had been murdered. But shocking as that might be, what had happened to Grace was even more so. The murder victim was unknown to them, whereas Grace was the wife of Runa’s benefactor, respected and well liked. An attack on her struck right at the heart of the community.

  Kinross and Guthrie had been amongst those who’d come out to help with the search. As he’d prepared to leave, the look on the ferry captain’s face promised slaughter.

  ‘Whoever did this, he’s a dead man when we find him,’ he’d vowed to Strachan.

  I didn’t think it was an empty threat. Emotions were running high all round. Given his infatuation with Grace, it was no surprise that Cameron had also rushed out to help with the search. He’d been the last to leave, stridently insisting that he had to see her. His protests had carried from the hallway into the kitchen where Brody and Fraser waited as I cleaned Grace’s wounds.

  ‘If she’s been injured I need to examine her,’ Cameron boomed, indignantly.

  Strachan’s voice remained unmoved. ‘There’s no need. David’s doing that.’

  ‘Hunter?’ Cameron fairly spat the word. ‘With all due respect, Michael, if anyone’s going to treat Grace it should be me, not some…some ex-GP!’

  ‘Thanks, but I’ll decide who’s going to look after my wife.’

  ‘But Michael-’

  ‘I said no!’ There was a shocked pause. When Strachan spoke again it was with more restraint. ‘Go home, Bruce. If I need you, I’ll let you know.’

  ‘I seem to be causing trouble,’ Grace said, ruefully, as we heard the front door close. She had been stoically enduring my one-handed attempts to dab antiseptic on her injuries.

  ‘I expect he just wants to help,’ I said, putting down the wad of cotton wool. ‘Excuse me.’

  Leaving her with Brody and Fraser, I went out of the kitchen to intercept Strachan as he came back across the large hall.

  ‘I heard what Cameron said,’ I told him. ‘He’s got a point. He’ll have more experience at treating wounds than I do.’

  The events of the last hour had taken their toll on Strachan. He looked better than he had, but the chiselled features were drawn, and some of the vitality had drained from him.

  ‘I’m sure you’re more than capable of putting a dressing on,’ he said tiredly.

  ‘Yes, but he’s the nurse…’

  His face hardened. ‘For the time being.’

  I didn’t say anything. Strachan glanced at the kitchen doorway and lowered his voice. ‘You must have seen how he looks at Grace. I’ve put up with it in the past, because I thought he was harmless. But after this…’

  I’d wondered how Strachan felt about Cameron’s feelings for his wife. Now I knew.

  ‘You don’t think it was him who attacked her?’ I said, doubtfully.

  ‘Somebody did!’ he flashed. But the vehemence soon passed. ‘No, I’m not saying it was Bruce. I just…well, I’d rather he didn’t go near her right now.’

  He gave an embarrassed smile.

  ‘Come on, let’s get back. They’ll think we’re plotting something.’

  We joined the others in the kitchen. Fraser was waiting with his notepad, while Brody sat staring into his cooling mug of tea with a faint frown. The old DI had been unusually quiet since we’d come back to the house, apparently content to let Fraser ask most of the questions.

  Strachan sat beside Grace, holding her hand as I finished treating her wounds. None were serious, mainly cuts and abrasions. The worst was the darkening bruise on her face where she’d been hit. It was on her right cheek, which meant whoever had struck her was probably left-handed.

  The same as Duncan’s killer. />
  I began to dab the broken skin with antiseptic as she told Fraser what she could remember.

  ‘I’d not been back from school long. I’d just made myself a coffee.’ Her hand trembled as she held a glass of brandy and water I’d given her in lieu of any other sedative. There was a faint quaver in her voice, but otherwise she seemed to be coping well with her ordeal.

  ‘When was this?’ Fraser asked, writing ponderously in his notebook.

  ‘I don’t know…about two, two thirty, I think. Bruce decided to close the school early because of the power cut. We’d got heating but no lights.’ She broke off to speak to her husband. ‘Michael, we really need to see about getting a back-up generator for the school as well, you know.’

  ‘I know, we will.’

  Strachan smiled, but he still looked awful. He seemed to blame himself for what had happened, for not being there when she’d needed him.

  Grace took a sip of brandy and gave a shudder. ‘Oscar was barking at the kitchen door. He wouldn’t shut up, and as soon as I opened it he shot off for the cove. I didn’t want him going on the jetty in this weather, so I went after him. When I got down there he was barking like a mad thing at the yacht, and I saw the cockpit hatch was open. Even then, I didn’t think anything about it. It’s never locked, and I thought Michael must have forgotten to close it. I started to go into the cockpit, but there was no light on and I couldn’t see. Then…then something hit me.’

  She faltered, her hand going to the bruise on her right cheek.

  ‘You don’t have to talk about it if you don’t want to,’ Strachan told her.

  ‘I’m fine. Really.’ Grace gave him a small smile. She looked shaken, but there was a determination about her as she continued. ‘Everything got a bit blurry then. I realized I was on the floor and my hands had been tied behind me. There was something over my head, as well. I thought I was going to suffocate. The sack or whatever it was stank of fish and oil, and a horrible piece of cloth had been stuffed in my mouth. I could feel cold air on my legs, and realized I didn’t have my jeans on. I tried to yell or kick out, but I couldn’t. Then I felt…I felt my pants being pulled down…’

  She broke off, her control slipping.