“We’ll discuss it later. Right now we need to get out of this rain.”
As they spoke, Freya looked straight down the centre of the village and saw the road was swamped with water. It was still possible for vehicles to get through but it would be dicey. By tomorrow it would be completely impassable and they’d be cut off.
Before Toby could object, Craig took Freya’s arm and led her towards her cottage, both grateful to get out of the horrific weather. Freya tore off her sodden coat and gloves, struggling to keep her shaking hands still long enough to untie the laces of her boots. Craig found himself suffering the same dilemma but eventually they both managed it, creating their own puddles of water on the porch floor.
“I’ll get some towels,” said Freya, breathless from the cold, glad she’d left the boiler on so the house was toasty and warm.
While he waited for her to return Craig pulled off his stab vest and belt, feeling lighter now the saturated equipment had been removed. Freya returned wrapped in a black dressing gown clutching a pile of towels, which she dumped in his arms.
“There’s more towels on the warmer in the bathroom. You can dry off up there. I’m afraid I don’t have any dry clothes for you but I can put something through the tumble dryer.”
“Thanks. What happened to the make-up?”
“It ran in the rain. I looked more like Alice Cooper than Lisbeth Salander.”
She looked younger, more vulnerable and he could clearly see the girl she used to be but he was a little disappointed, he liked her look. However it was another step forward. She’d removed some of her armour.
Craig felt better after pulling off the cold wet clothes and basking in the heat of the towel warmer. As he slowly dried he studied the bathroom, fighting the urge to rummage through the medicine cabinet. One reason he became a police officer was because he was a nosy bugger, but if Freya found out it would be the end of her ever trusting him again so he resisted.
Wrapping himself up in the towels he picked up the bundle of dripping clothes and squeezed them out in the bath, deciding it would be best to keep on his underwear, even though it was uncomfortably damp.
“Would you mind putting these through the dryer?” he said when he returned downstairs, handing her his black jumper, socks and combat trousers.
“It’s the least I can do, it’s my fault you’re all wet,” she said, accepting them and shoving them into the dryer. “Hot chocolate?”
“You don’t have anything stronger, do you? I could murder a whisky.”
“No,” she replied coldly.
The hostility in her eyes took him aback. “Oh. In that case hot chocolate would be great thanks.”
As Freya reached for the kettle the towel covering Craig’s upper body slipped and her hand faltered, her eyes immediately drawn to him. His body was in great shape, toned and hard but it was the large tattoo covering his upper arms, spreading across his chest and coming full circle round his back that amazed her. It was a black tribal design, a network of trailing curves terminating in spikes and suddenly all her fears were forgotten as lust surged through her body. “I like your ink.”
“Thanks, I got it four years ago, along with this,” he said, indicating a similar design curling around his right calf. “Mum went mental,” he grinned. “It’s in the style of HR Geiger, I love his artwork.”
“The guy who designed Alien? Yeah, he’s good. I have a tattoo too.”
“Can I see it?”
“Not unless I take off my dressing gown and I’ve only got my underwear on.”
He stopped himself before he said that would be a good idea. Without any make-up she’d lost that brooding sexiness but she looked fresh faced and pretty, hair damp with rain, eyes for once soft and gentle. There was a moment of silence as they stared at each other before Craig cleared his throat. “Maybe another time then,” he said, cursing himself when his voice came out raspy.
“I’ll make that hot chocolate,” she said, turning from him and filling the kettle.
He was a little relieved when the spell was broken, he didn’t really want to go there, not when he’d finally freed himself from Mad Mandy, his ex-girlfriend, leaving her far behind in Inverness. Instead he peered out of the window at the thick grey curtain of rain that hit the ground so hard it seemed to bounce. “The storm’s set in. There’s still a little time to get out, if you really want to.”
Freya switched on the kettle and leaned back against the unit while she waited for it to boil. “No, I’m staying. If I leave now nothing will change.”
“That bad is it?”
She folded her arms across her chest and looked down at her feet. He noted even her toenails were painted black.
“Yes,” she eventually replied.
“It was your aunt and uncle who hurt you?”
“Not just them.”
“Who?”
When tears filled her eyes she turned her back on him. The kettle switched itself off, giving her an excuse to evade his curious grey eyes and she set about making the drinks. Craig didn’t like silence and had to fill it up somehow.
“Why didn’t you come back sooner? I know you don’t believe it but you have been missed,” he said as she handed him his drink. He wrapped his hands around it, enjoying the warmth seeping into his bones.
“Because I felt rejected by everyone here and because he was still alive.”
“Logan?”
She just nodded. Craig thought she’d clam up, but to his surprise she kept talking.
“Was he ever investigated after what I said?”
“My dad tried, he really did but he was forced to turn the case over to the Superintendent at the time.”
“Who was bosom buddies with Logan,” she said wryly.
“Exactly, so nothing ever came of it. My dad believed you and so do I. See, we Police aren’t so bad, are we?”
“I suppose some of you aren’t,” she replied grudgingly.
He took a sip of chocolate. “I hope you don’t mind but I did a background check on you.”
“What?” she scowled. “You had no right.”
“Actually I do.”
“Why? Afraid the crime rate’s going to soar with me around?”
“No, although I’m sure you’re more than capable of becoming a one-woman crime wave.”
She slammed down her mug, slopping hot brown liquid onto the worktop. “Get out.”
He took another sip of hot chocolate. “No.”
“I want you to leave.”
His expression was steely. “Shut up and listen to what I have to say.”
Her mouth opened then closed, a little thrown by the authority in his voice.
“Sit,” he repeated. He hadn’t raised his voice at all, he didn’t need to.
“I bet you’re a bastard in an interview room,” she muttered, throwing herself into a chair at the small dining table and petulantly folding her arms across her chest.
“Oh yes and I bet you’re a pain in the arse in one.”
Freya was annoyed with herself when she involuntarily smiled.
“I know you have drugs charges against you,” he opened, taking the seat opposite her, wondering if it was the right way to go, “as well as shoplifting, drunk and disorderly and common assault, to name but a few. You even spent four months inside on an ABH charge. Quite an impressive list for a twenty six year old.”
“That wasn’t fair, that bitch attacked me first outside a nightclub, I was only defending myself but because she didn’t have a record the blame was put on me. She started having a go at me because of my clothes and make-up.”
“You broke her nose and cracked some ribs.”
“If you’d seen the size of her nose you’d know there was no way I could have avoided hitting it. She tried to bottle me but apparently that didn’t matter because I dressed in black and had a record. Anyway, why are you telling me all this? I know already, I was there.”
“I’m not finished,” he said in that hard tone.
/>
“Get to the point then.”
“If you’d shut up I might be able to.”
Her cheeks flushed red with anger. “Fine.”
“I also read how you ran away from your uncle’s house twice as well as the children’s homes you subsequently ended up in.”
Her body appeared to go limp as the anger drained right out of her. “Do you know why I ran away?”
“I read the Social Services reports. I’m sorry Freya.”
She bit her lip and nodded, suddenly finding her black fingernails very interesting.
“When I read that, your record suddenly made sense,” he pressed. “The alcohol abuse and the crime to feed your habit.”
Her head snapped up. “I’m dry now, I have been for two years. I have my own flat and I’m going to college.”
“I know and you should be proud of yourself. Not many people have the strength to pull themselves back from the brink like that.”
“I am.”
“That’s why you’re here. Everything bad that’s happened to you stemmed from what happened in this village. Coming here is all part of your recovery.”
She nodded, chewing on a nail. “I didn’t realise how hard it would be. I thought I was strong again after years of feeling weak but I disintegrated in that graveyard.”
“You are strong. Most people would have been obliterated by what you went through but not you. I’ve seen so many people blame their behaviour on petty little problems but you’ve taken responsibility for your actions and you’ve beaten your demons.”
“No I haven’t, not by a long way. I still have nightmares about being buried alive. Sometimes I’m on fire, or drowning, or suffocating, like Logan’s other victims. The drink blocked it all out, the memories too. The dreams were why my uncle started beating me. I used to wake up screaming and he’d come in and hit me until I went quiet. I trained myself to fall asleep on my front, so I ended up screaming into my pillow instead, but he still beat me anyway, he got a taste for it. My aunt and uncle never wanted children so a damaged kid intruding on their tidy lives was a huge inconvenience. My aunt knew and approved of him hitting me, she thought I just needed some sense knocked into me. It was after my fourth visit to hospital in a year that Miss Saunders, the thin woman from Social Services, finally realised what was going on and had me taken from my uncle’s care and put in a children’s home. Some of the people there were worse than him.”
“So you ran from there too?”
“Yes but the Polis kept taking me back. They didn’t believe me either. I was classed as a troublemaker, punished, denied meals, forced to have cold showers, but Miss Saunders didn’t give up on me. She had me placed with a foster family experienced in dealing with troubled children. Their son was a tearaway.” She smiled. “James Pierce, he knocked me for six. I was fifteen by then and he was an older, experienced seventeen year old. He got me into drinking, smoking cannabis, sex. I gave him everything, even my virginity.”
Craig felt himself colour slightly. He hadn’t expected so much detail but he knew she was talking to herself as much as him, attempting to make sense of everything that had happened to her. Judging by the dreamy look on her face, her memories of James Pierce were very pleasant ones.
“I was sixteen when I fell pregnant to him and his parents made me have an abortion. They said if I didn’t then they’d throw me out on the streets. He was their golden boy, straight A student with a bright future as a doctor. So I had the abortion, even though I didn’t want to, but they threw me out anyway.”
Craig felt sadness creeping over him at her tale, which was getting harder and harder for him to hear.
“I went to stay at a squat with a couple of people I’d met in the children’s home and graduated from cannabis to coke and amphetamines. James came to see me at the squat, I’ve no idea how he managed to track me down. He said he hated his parents for killing our baby, that he loved me and wanted us to run off to Gretna Green together. I couldn’t believe it, I thought he was a drug-induced hallucination. There was this beautiful boy that I loved standing in that stinking hellhole surrounded by druggies telling me he wanted me.” A tear ran down her face. “I told him to go away. Leaving with him wouldn’t have made my life any better and would only have made his worse. His parents would disown him and he’d lose his great future. After that things got worse. The nightmares got more intense and in them I could hear a baby crying, the baby I’d killed. Coke wasn’t enough to block it out, in fact it seemed to make the dreams worse so I gave that up and turned to alcohol instead, drinking and drinking until I passed out. Then I didn’t dream.
I had to leave the old tenement I was squatting in because it was being demolished and things got a little better. I met up with another girl I’d been in the home with and she was doing okay, she even had a flat and a job in a nightclub. She said I could stay with her and she got me a job serving behind the bar. You can probably guess I was in my element there. Things were good for a few years, I was happy, although I was still drinking way too much. I even had a couple of boyfriends, the first since James. They were okay but when they couldn’t live up to him I soon dumped them. Even though life wasn’t so bad I was still drinking heavily, I just couldn‘t get rid of the dreams. One day I drank so much I passed out and woke up in hospital. Doctor James Pierce had saved my life, I’d almost died from alcohol poisoning. It was then I saw how low I’d sunk. There was James looking as gorgeous as ever, a highly-respected Registrar, he was even engaged. He told me I had extensive liver damage and if I had one more drink there was a strong possibility I’d die. I was in such bad shape I had to stay in hospital for weeks so I went cold turkey. That was hell, I was in agony but I did it, with James’s help. He made sure I was admitted under his care.”
She didn’t tell Craig about the kiss she and James had shared during her first stroll through the hospital gardens when she was strong enough to walk. Again he’d said he still loved her and she asked him how a man like him could love a pathetic wreck of a woman like her. He’d said that wasn’t what he saw when he looked at her. He was willing to leave his fiancée for her, a surgeon no less. James had said he’d take care of her, get her the help she needed. Once again she told him no, even though she was sorely tempted. She told him not to be ridiculous and to never mention it again, he was much better off with his surgeon. James had respected her wishes, despite the long lingering looks and touches that had subsequently passed between them.
“When I was released from hospital I was arrested on the ABH charge.” Pain lanced through her chest as she recalled James’s expression when he saw the two PC’s waiting to arrest her at the main doors. She’d panicked when she’d seen their fluorescent jackets and they’d had to wrestle her kicking and screaming into the back of their car, poor James trying to explain the reason for her violent reaction. “I spent four months inside and got help for my alcohol addiction. When I was let out I was referred to a support group, who were brilliant. They helped me enrol on a counselling course to help people going through what I went through. Even though things have got better I still have the dreams. The leader of my support group was the one who suggested coming here to face my past and here I am.”
Craig didn’t know what to say. She sat there looking at him uncertainly and his mind was a complete blank. However he did get the feeling she was keeping something back from him, she hadn’t explained why she was scared of police.
“Still so keen to help me now?” she said after a protracted silence.
“Yes. None of this is your fault. If your mum hadn’t died everything would have been so different.”
“Would it? No one forced me to drink. The first thing I learned in the support group was to take responsibility for my actions and I have. I chose to go down that path and now I’m dealing with the consequences.”
“No,” he said heatedly, “I’m not having that.”
She cut him off before he could continue. “Your clothes are dry,” she said, getting u
p and pulling the items out of the tumble dryer.
“Freya…”
“You’d better get dressed and go before your mum wonders what’s happened to you.”
“I’m not eleven anymore.”
“I know but please…this has been hard for me,” she said, biting her lip as tears spilled down her face. She was on the verge of disintegrating and didn’t want him to witness it. She was still smarting after the humiliation of him seeing her collapse at the castle.
“Okay,” he said. “But before I go just tell me one thing. Is your health okay? Are you on any medication?”
“I’m not on anything but I did register with the GP practice in West Kilbride, just in case.” West Kilbride was the nearest town just over a mile away.
He nodded, took his clothes from her and headed back into the bathroom to dress. The clothes were soft and warm and smelt nice. When he returned to the kitchen she was once again in control, sat at the kitchen table gripping her mug tightly.
“Thanks Craig,” she said, staring into her drink.
He bent over to kiss the top of her head. “You’re welcome.”
She kept her gaze fixed on her mug, waiting to hear the bang of the front door before bursting into tears. So much for not crying anymore.
CHAPTER 4
Craig decided to go into work early to do a bit of research. Freya’s story haunted him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it, appalled by what she’d endured.
There were thirty five hospitals in the Greater Glasgow and Clyde area. He managed to round that down by eliminating the mental health, maternity, dental and specialist units and tracked down Doctor James Pierce, a Registrar in General Medicine, to one of the general hospitals.
“Hello?” said a deep voice after the secretary put him through.
“Doctor Pierce, my name is Sergeant Donaldson from Strathclyde Police. I’m calling about Freya Macalister.”
“Is she alright?” he said with genuine concern.
“She’s fine Sir and she’s not in any trouble. I’m sorry to alarm you.”
“Thank God for that.”
The Elemental (Blair Dubh Trilogy #1) Page 4
