“Those bruises do look nasty.”
“They are. Do you know she has a history of violence?”
“No,” he frowned.
“She was locked up for assault, attacked some poor woman in a nightclub. She’s not fit to be on the streets but she’s clever. She wants me put away so she won’t feel threatened by me anymore. I mean, I’m not one to brag but look at her then look at me.”
“There is quite a contrast,” he smiled.
“At last, someone who understands,” she exclaimed. “I can’t tell you how refreshing it is to meet someone who actually listens to me.”
“I like to think I’ve got an open mind,” he said proudly. She batted her eyelashes at him and he positively beamed.
She leaned forward to pat his knee. “You are a very nice man Sergeant Hughes.”
Nervously he cleared his throat. “Call me George, please.”
“George, what a strong masculine name,” she said, sidling up to him, closing the gap between them. “I feel safe with you George.”
“I…I’m glad you feel that way Miss…I mean Mandy,” he stammered. “I think a serious miscarriage of justice has occurred and I assure you I will do all in my considerable power to see it put right.”
Her hand slid higher up his thigh, his eyes widening as it continued on towards his crotch. “I really appreciate that George. There must be something I can do to show you my appreciation.”
He swallowed hard, throat suddenly dry. It wasn’t often he was so close to a woman, especially one as phenomenal as this. Even with her bruises she was incredible. He thought there must be some truth in her story, he couldn’t imagine any man knocking her back.
She removed her hands from his leg and he appeared disappointed.
“These handcuffs are so painful,” she said, lower lip trembling. “Look at my wrists, they’re bruised.”
“I’m so sorry Miss,” he said, appalled to see marks on the tender white flesh.
“They’re so restricting too. How can I move my hands properly without them,” she said, her fingers brushing the top of his thigh again.
“I’ll…I’ll remove them, we can’t have you in pain.”
“Thank you George, you are too kind.”
As he unlocked the cuffs Mandy glanced out the window and saw the other two officers were being kept busy redirecting traffic and trying to get the ambulance through the tailback.
“Better?” he smiled, removing the cuffs.
“Much, thank you George. It feels so good to be able to move freely again,” she smiled.
While her left hand kept Hughes occupied, his eyes riveted to her long white fingers half an inch from his crotch, her other hand crept up to his utility belt, closing over the end of the baton.
“I suppose you could…,” he began.
When the baton connected with the side of his head he was knocked unconscious and fell to one side. Mandy checked the window again to make sure the other two were still busy, which they were, so she rolled Hughes into the footwell on his front and tethered him with the limb restraints from his own belt, wrapping one around his legs and the other around his wrists, binding his hands behind his back then used the attachment to join them together. She smiled with satisfaction. There was no way he was getting out of that and with the noise of all the car engines his colleagues wouldn’t hear him shouting when he woke.
“As if I’d ever be attracted to you, you ugly pig,” she hissed.
Mandy opened the door and ducked down the side of the car, closing it as quietly as she could. She waited until both officers had their backs turned to her then she vaulted the hedge and ran through a field. They’d only been driving a few minutes, they couldn’t be far from Blair Dubh. All the jogging had paid off because it meant she flew through the fields, following the road back the way she’d come, only having to pause a couple of times to scale fences.
This time she wouldn’t make the mistake of trying to kill Freya in front of Craig. If she hadn’t wanted to extract what he really felt from him Freya could have been dead by now. But he’d said it, he really wanted her. The hard bit was done. Now she just had to kill Freya and they would be back together and everything would be perfect. She’d grown bored of waiting for the bald man to make his move, he seemed to be more concerned with petty vandalism than any decisive action. If you wanted a job done properly, get a woman to do it.
Docherty had watched the circus from an elevated spot outside the church and it had been torture. For one horrible moment he’d thought the redhead - who he assumed was the same woman he’d seen crouching in the graveyard with the knife - was going to kill Freya, but she’d fought back and seen her off. Actually she’d kicked the living shit out of the woman although she’d had a knife to her throat and Docherty felt a begrudging respect. It seemed she hadn’t forgotten what she’d learned on the streets. He became aroused at the thought of taking her on. No matter how hard she’d tried she’d never been able to beat him and she still wouldn’t. The time to strike had come, after that experience with the madwoman she would probably want to leave the village as soon as possible but he couldn’t get to her yet, she’d gone into her mother-in-law’s cottage with Supercop.
He sighed and lowered the binoculars. Now it was a waiting game. He would remain up here and watch the house. When she left he would make his move then he would leave this awful village and head back to Glasgow to finish off DCI Gray.
Docherty yawned and rubbed his grainy eyes. He’d hardly got any sleep last night after his freaky experience in the church. In the harsh light of day it all seemed a bit ridiculous, but the terror he’d experienced refused to go. Just knowing the church was right behind him gave him the willies. Even though he was convinced someone was standing in there watching him he would not to give in to temptation and look round, it was purely his imagination. Now he was even more eager to kill Freya just so he could leave.
A car entering the village caught his eye. It was so obviously a CID pool car they may as well have had police emblazoned on the side and a flashing blue light. Raising the binoculars he watched it pull into the car park beside the pub, his heart in his mouth.
“Shit,” he whispered when a familiar figure with a large domed forehead and long monkey arms got out, accompanied by a taller, younger man. DCI Gray. A stream of expletives left Docherty’s lips as he watched Gray stretch out his back then look around, as though trying to decide which way to go.
“Please go left, go left,” urged Docherty. If Gray decided to go right to the mother’s cottage he’d be fucked.
Gray turned round and round with a frown on his funny monkey face before heading left down the dock.
This was bad. Very bad. He had to act.
CHAPTER 25
Docherty made his way down the hill back to the village, fighting the urge to run. Gray must have assumed that on a day like this Freya would be out on the water, enjoying the weather. The wind had completely died down, the boats once again resting peacefully in their moorings.
Another tour group was gathering on the pub car park, cars rolling to a halt beside Gray’s. Eagerly they leapt out of their vehicles, barely able to contain their excitement at the sight of the police car just departing and the crime scene tape cordoning off the area where Mandy had held the blade to Freya’s throat.
“Oover herre, this way,” called the big-nosed tour guide, waving his hands.
“What’s going on?” Docherty heard one man ask, eyes glittering with excitement. “Has there been another murder?”
“No but there nearly wis,” replied Toby.
They crowded round him, demanding more information and he smiled with pleasure at being the centre of attention.
Pulling his cap down lower Docherty walked round the side of the pub, avoiding the group. He peeked around the corner to see the two figures on the dock, Gray studying a piece of paper as he walked then looking up intermittently to study the boats. Docherty glanced over his shoulder at Ma Donaldson’
s house. Should he just charge in there and massacre the bitch now before he was arrested? He crouched on the ground with his head in his hands, attempting to control his breathing.
“No,” he growled. He would not rush this, it was his vengeance, what he’d been yearning for all these years. The cops had to go instead.
Decisively he sprung to his feet and, head bowed, meandered along the dock. He could hear Gray and his colleague talking. He didn’t recognise the younger one, he looked to be a brand new fresh faced detective, no doubt newly promoted to CID. Why hadn’t Gray brought one of his older, more experienced colleagues with him? Unless he didn’t seriously believe Docherty was here, he’d probably just come to warn Freya. That meant the polis thought he was still in Glasgow. He started to calm down. They knew nothing. All he had to do was take care of this pair and he was home free.
He watched from behind the prow of a yacht as they talked, looking confused, their voices drifting to him on the now-gentle sea breeze.
“Shouldn’t we just go to the mother-in-law’s house?” said the young detective. “There’s loads of boats here.”
“No,” retorted Gray. “If we go there and Freya’s already left then the mother will want to know what’s happening and we can’t tell her Docherty’s free, it’ll be all round the manor in no time. Plus I want to tell Freya personally, I’m not trusting this message to anyone else.”
Typical Gray, thought Docherty. He’d never trusted anyone but himself, not even his own team.
There were dozens of boats and it would take a little time to check them all. To Docherty’s delight the detectives split up, Gray going left towards where Freya’s boat was moored and the young detective to the right. Docherty decided to tackle Gray first. He posed the biggest threat.
He followed, head bowed, his trainers making no sound on the wooden dock. When Gray rounded a corner and disappeared out of sight behind a yacht Docherty still knew where he was from the noise his hard-soled shoes made on the wooden dock. He peeked round the side of the yacht and saw Gray rushing up to Freya’s boat, all excitement, throwing his overly long arms backwards and forwards. Docherty wasn’t worried, he knew she was at her mother-in-law’s cottage, but she could return at any moment.
He crept forward as Gray leapt onto the boat and pulled at the door. Naturally it refused to open. With a sigh he jumped down and took out his phone. He was so consumed by the task that he failed to notice Docherty coming up behind him.
As he started to dial Docherty rushed forwards, Gray turning at the last second as he was knocked off the dock and together they fell into the water, landing between two boats, hiding them from view. Docherty was bigger and heavier and landed on top of Gray, knocking the wind out of him. The phone fell from Gray’s hand and was swallowed up by the water. He looked up at Docherty, complete surprise on his face, long monkey arms flailing and legs frantically kicking. Docherty managed to plant his feet firmly on the stony bed and gripped Gray by the shirt front.
“I’m going to kill her Gray. She’s here and she’s going to die fucking slowly and painfully,” he said before pushing him under the water.
Gray wasn’t big but he was stocky and he created a violent wash as he kicked and thrashed, attempting to push Docherty off but he remained immovable. One big fist connected with Docherty’s ribs, making him groan with pain. With sheer force of will he managed to remain on top, but only just. This was no good. He had to get a better grip on him. He punched Gray twice in the face, disorientating him then grabbed his ankles and pulled as hard as he could. Gray’s head bobbed under the water and no matter how hard he fought he couldn’t break the surface. Docherty’s arms shook with the strain of keeping the man’s bowed legs raised as he continued to thrash, soaking Docherty with water. It was a relief when his movements grew more lethargic then stopped altogether.
“About fucking time,” Docherty breathed, releasing Gray’s legs, which flopped limply back into the water. He grabbed the man’s tie and used it to pull the body closer so he could check his pulse. He had to be sure. Nothing. Gray’s glassy eyes stared up at him, wide with surprise, mouth hanging open as he’d tried to breathe underwater.
Excitement gripped Docherty like it never had before. He’d just killed another one on his hit list. He’d not really expected to get Gray, it had been a distant dream. He couldn’t believe such an experienced officer would leave himself so exposed like that. It proved his theory that they thought he was still in Glasgow and Gray had only come here to warn Freya. He should have used the fucking phone instead, the prick. The high winds last night must have knocked them out. He could have sent another officer but he understood how Gray’s mind had worked. The guilt at not being able to save Sally and Anita would have tormented him, he would have blamed himself for not protecting them and for persuading them to give evidence against him in the first place. He’d wanted to be Freya’s white knight, riding in to protect her from the bad man.
“You fucking idiot,” he told Gray’s corpse as it bobbed about in the water.
When Docherty started to giggle he clamped a hand down over his mouth. No time to revel in his victory now, there was another copper to take care of who would raise the alarm when his colleague failed to return but first he had to hide Gray’s body. Nothing elaborate was required, he would be leaving the village soon. All he needed to do was stash it until he’d done Freya, so he simply wedged him between the wooden struts supporting the dock. It took him a few goes to get him to stay put, Docherty’s impatience growing every time the tide caught the body and pushed it out of its hiding place. Eventually he managed to stuff it into a corner. It still bobbed about slightly but it would have to do. It was awkward rifling through Gray’s pockets with him crammed into such a small place, monkey-like limbs stuck out at odd angles, but he managed it and stole his wallet and some loose change. There were some notes that he hoped could be dried out and the warrant card would be very useful indeed, as would the handcuffs he took from Gray’s belt. The phone had been lost in the water and even if he did find it it wouldn’t work. Besides, he had no one to call.
Once he’d collected his spoils he decided he’d better go in search of the young detective before he got suspicious. He dragged himself back onto the dock, taking a moment to make sure Gray’s body wasn’t visible. He smiled to himself as he walked over the spot where he’d stashed him, pausing to peer between the wooden slats but he could see nothing. Annoyingly his trainers were saturated with water and squelched when he walked. His clothes were heavy with it, leaving a trail behind him, but at least he’d dry quickly in this heat.
He headed to the right, in the direction the other detective had gone. He hesitated and strained to listen, the sound of shoes on the wooden boards just audible up ahead. A man came round the side of a boat studying the vessels as he walked, off guard, not a clue what he was about to encounter. Docherty’s heart hammered against his ribcage and the blood sang in his head as the man got nearer, gaze constantly moving between the little piece of paper in his hand and the boats, still unaware of his presence.
Just as Docherty came level with him a young couple appeared out of nowhere, arm-in-arm and laughing together, forcing Docherty to keep on walking, allowing the detective to safely continue on his way.
“Fuck,” he whispered.
He continued to stroll casually, pretending to admire the view, glancing over his shoulder intermittently to see where the couple had gone. They climbed onboard a yacht and appeared to be pointing at something in the distance.
“Piss off you idiots,” he muttered under his breath.
A few seconds later they disappeared inside the boat and Docherty turned on his heel and hurried to catch up with the detective, who had almost reached the spot where Docherty had caught up with Gray. In a matter of seconds he’d notice Freya’s boat.
“’Scuse me pal,” called Docherty.
The detective whipped round. “Yes?”
“Are you DCI Gray’s colleague?”
> “I am, DC Kennedy.”
“He asked me to fetch you,” said Docherty, making a show of being out of breath. “A woman was attacked up at the castle, Freya something I think he said her name was. He’s caught the man responsible and he needs you.”
“Can you take me there?”
“Course. This way.”
Docherty was glad he’d learnt the layout of the village because it meant he could lead the man away from public view. They sped back down the dock in the opposite direction to Freya’s boat, just in case her and Supercop decided to return and led Kennedy up the hill. The detective hadn’t recognised him, the beard and shaved head had fooled him, as well as the fact that he thought they’d finally got their man. His naivety was going to cost him.
Both Docherty and the detective huffed and puffed as they rushed up the hill, the sun beating down mercilessly already. Silently Docherty thanked whatever force had led him to that tour group because he’d come up with the perfect way to dispose of the detective, one he was sure Logan and Lynch would have approved of.
“Nearly there,” puffed Docherty. “The man brought her up here but some of the village men followed. They were just in time to save her.”
Docherty let the detective get slightly ahead of him as they sped into the castle.
“That way,” called Docherty, pointing to the right.
The detective ran deeper into the castle, through what used to be the prison, the air getting cooler and danker. Docherty feigned needing to stop for breath and bent double, wheezing. “In there,” he said, pointing into the room that held the oubliette.
The detective nodded and rushed inside, Docherty closely following. The man skidded to a halt.
“There’s no one here.”
He failed to see the large rock coming at his head. With a grunt he dropped to the ground, out cold.
Docherty knelt by his side, removed the cuffs from the man’s belt and bound his hands behind his back. Then he removed the mobile phone from his inner jacket pocket. As he stared at the device a plan formed in his mind.
The Drowning Tide (Blair Dubh Trilogy #2) Page 22
