Craig gently ran his fingertips over the flames blazing up her spine to her neck then across to the waves. He felt her go tense, heard her breathing quicken and suddenly he was intensely aroused. Dipping his head he kissed her back, feathering the area around the Chinese symbols.
“Craig?” she said softly.
“Yes?” he replied, letting his fingertips run down her spine.
She turned to face him. “Don’t play with me. I couldn’t take it.”
He ran his fingers through her long hair. “I’m not,” he whispered before kissing her.
The chemistry between them surprised them both, it was passionate and powerful. They fell back onto the bed kissing hard. He let his lips run down her neck, hands sliding beneath her jumper, stroking her smooth flat belly, enjoying the feel of her hands on the bare skin of his back. This was what he needed right now, the warmth and comfort of another human being. Things started to heat up and this time it was Freya who wasn’t sure what to do with her hands. Craig was almost naked and no matter how much she liked him, she wasn’t ready for that yet.
“Craig?” she said as he kissed a path down her stomach to the zip of her jeans.
“Mmm?”
“No further.”
He was disappointed but nevertheless respected her wishes, pulled her jumper back down and slid back up her body to kiss her mouth.
“You certainly know what to do with your hands now, don’t you?” she smiled, trying to keep her eyes off the towel around his waist, which now resembled an impressive tent.
“I’m glad you think so.” He sighed heavily. “Now I don’t want to leave this room but I have to go to the meeting and face the wrath of the village.”
“Don’t let them bully you. They’re all scared and they’ll want to lash out at someone and that person might be you.”
“Well thanks, I feel better,” he said sarcastically. “Are you going to be there?”
“No. I’m worried everyone will blame me for this.”
Craig wanted to reassure her but couldn’t because he thought she might be right.
The bang of the front door and rumble of voices below announced Gary and Steve’s arrival and Craig sighed again. “I suppose I’d better get dressed.”
“I’ll leave you to it then.”
“You don’t have to,” he grinned.
“Yes I do.”
“Fine,” he said with another sigh before rolling off her.
She pecked him on the lips and got to her feet. “Good luck.”
“I’m going to need it.”
“What are you doing to catch this animal?” demanded Bill, a sea of stern faces nodding in agreement. The whole village had turned out for the community meeting, all except Nora and Freya, who were being guarded by Steve. Tension and fear filled the air and everyone regarded each other suspiciously, trust between lifelong friends eradicated in a couple of days.
“These are very unusual circumstances,” called Craig, trying to make himself heard over the mutter of angry voices. “Thanks to the storm we have no access to the usual resources we would normally have in a murder inquiry. If we had then this case would be progressing entirely differently.”
“You mean the killer might have been caught by now if we had some real police here,” retorted Jimmy, everyone else contenting themselves with nods.
Craig’s eyes narrowed. “I can assure you we’re all experienced officers and have worked murder inquiries before.” He drew himself up to his full height, absolutely convinced by his words. Freya had given him a much-needed boost.
“Just shut your face Jimmy Clark,” said Brenda, shooting to her feet. “What are you doing except complaining? These poor boys are trying to do their jobs under very difficult circumstances. We should be supporting them, not having a go.”
In response, Lizzy leapt to her husband’s defence. “Why am I not surprised you’re sticking up for them? You always were partial to a bit of uniform. I remember that soldier who passed through the village ten years ago.”
When her husband frowned at her, Brenda turned bright red. “What about you and the postie in Largs?” she retorted.
“You bitch,” exclaimed Lizzy, lunging for her.
Some of the men got between them but the women struggled furiously, Brenda grabbing a handful of Lizzy’s hair and pulling, eliciting a squeal.
Craig glanced over his shoulder at Gary and rolled his eyes, who was just relieved the villagers were taking their frustrations out on each other and not on them.
“Everyone settle down,” boomed Craig, his voice rebounding off the walls having the desired effect. Brenda and Lizzy retook their seats and folded their arms across their chests, casting daggers at each other. “Now this is a small village,” Craig continued. “No one can make a move without someone noticing. I want you all to think very carefully. Someone must have seen or heard something. If you remember any detail, no matter how insignificant it might seem, please tell me. If we’re all vigilant then between us we can stop this. Any women living alone please stay with friends. If you do go out then go out in groups, even if you’re just going across the road to the pub. Don’t give this creep the opportunity to hurt you.”
“Are Claire and Catriona’s deaths connected to The Elemental Murders?” said Howard.
“Yes, I think it’s safe to say they are.”
The angry murmurs built up again.
“Why isn’t Freya Macalister here? Hiding is she?” said Bill.
“As I’m sure you’ll appreciate, this has brought back horrific memories for Freya.”
“Funny how all this started when she came back,” he pressed.
“Is she a suspect?” demanded Gordon.
“Miss Macalister was attacked this morning at her cottage. A figure in black tried to kick the door in.”
“Oh yeah? I bet she’s the only one who saw it,” said Toby.
“Actually, no. My mum was there too.”
“Oh,” said Toby, deflating slightly.
“Rather than a suspect she’s a possible victim so I suggest you try and find a little compassion for her,” said Craig harshly, trying not to think about the fresh mud on her boots.
“Is she staying at your house then?” said Howard.
“Yes, for her own protection, not because she’s a suspect.”
“Come on, the girl’s trouble. You can tell that just by looking at her.”
“That’s a very narrow-minded thing to say Howard. If people got arrested because they look different then you would have been locked up years ago.”
“Hey,” he frowned as sniggering filled the room.
“Sarge,” whispered Gary in warning.
Craig knew it must be bad if Gary was pulling him up about not being diplomatic. He took a deep breath. “Sorry Howard. It’s important we work together to stop this and accusing innocent women isn’t going to help.” If it turned out Freya was guilty he’d just killed his career.
Craig returned home tired and washed out and sent Gary and Steve back to Freya’s cottage for some sleep. He was glad to see her on the couch with a book, it made him feel warm inside.
“How did it go?” she said, putting the book aside.
He sank onto the couch beside her. “Better than expected. At least they didn’t lynch us. I think I managed to reassure them a little bit.” He decided not to mention what Howard had said.
He took her hand and they shyly smiled at each other. Just as he leaned in to kiss her the kitchen door banged open and his mother walked in with a tea tray, causing them to jump apart.
“How was it?” she asked her son.
“Not as bad as I thought but they’re all turning on each other.”
“I said that would happen, didn’t I? And this time it will be doubly worse with the storm. Some people can’t handle the isolation, it sends them mad.”
“Something connects Catriona and Claire, I don’t think they were chosen at random. It’s not a coincidence Claire was killed the day I
went to talk to her and she was Logan’s mother.”
“Both were women who lived alone, they were vulnerable, just like the four original victims,” countered Nora.
“Catriona was killed in the afternoon. She was popular, there were always people in and out of her cottage but someone knew she would be alone at that time. She arranged to meet whoever killed her, cleared time in her busy schedule for them. If they wanted to kill her and be sure of not being seen it would have been much less risky to attack her in the middle of the night when she was asleep. The same applies to Claire, they only just missed Martin. Maybe they even saw him coming? The original four victims were selected for a reason, as were Catriona and Claire. I have to find out what links them. If I can do that then maybe I’ll find out who killed them.”
“Air’s the next element, if he’s following Logan’s pattern. Then earth, buried alive,” said Freya quietly.
A loud knock at the door caused them all to jump, including Craig, to his embarrassment.
“What now?” he sighed. All he wanted to do was try and get Freya upstairs without his mum noticing and pick up where they left off.
He didn’t need to open the door, it practically blew open with the force of the wind.
“What is it Fred?” he said to the old man struggling to stay upright in the elements.
“Come to the pub quick, there’s an almighty rammy.”
“Oh bloody hell,” he said, pulling on his coat and boots and disappearing into the night.
“Get my constables,“ he called to Fred as he overtook him. He flew into the pub to find Toby and Adam trying to pull Bill and Jimmy apart while Martin tended to Gordon slumped on the floor, blood trickling from his nose. “You two, shut it,” Craig ordered Lizzy and Brenda, who were screeching at each other. They went instantly quiet.
Putting himself between the two fighting men he grabbed Bill by the shoulders and pushed him back against the wall. “Calm down or I’ll nick you. That applies to you too,” he bellowed over his shoulder at Jimmy, who was being held back by Toby. Although the two men stopped struggling they continued to glare at each other.
“What’s this about?” demanded Craig.
“He called my wife a slag,” yelled Jimmy.
“Because she called my wife a tart,” countered Bill.
“What do you know? You’re deaf as a post.”
“Up yours ya prick.”
With that they tried to get at each other again but were held back.
“That’s enough,” said Craig. “Stop acting like kids, you’ve been friends for years. You go at each other once more and I’ll arrest you both.”
“Oh yeah? Where are you going to put us?” sneered Jimmy. “Lock us up with Morticia Addams?”
“You can use my cellar Sergeant,” said Gordon. “It’s got a big metal door and a sturdy padlock. Gets nice and cold down there this time of year.”
Craig rounded on Jimmy. “If you don’t want to spend the night in Gordon’s cellar I suggest you calm down.”
“Alright, I’m calm,” he sighed, holding up his hands.
“Me too,” said Bill.
“Right you two, shake hands and put it behind you,” ordered Craig.
They reluctantly shook hands, bottom lips stuck out.
Craig turned to their wives, who still had their claws out for each other. “You two can apologise as well.”
“Sorry,” they muttered, sulking just as much as their husbands.
“Who hit you?” Craig asked Gordon.
“Jimmy. It was an accident. I went in to split them up and he hit me instead of Bill.”
“Is his nose broken?” Craig asked Martin.
“No, I don’t think so,” replied the doctor, gently probing Gordon’s face, hands encased in latex gloves.
“Do you want to press charges?”
“No.”
“You’re entitled to. You’re going to have a couple of lovely black eyes.”
“After what happened to Claire and Catriona it doesn’t seem important.”
“Any damage to the premises?”
“Nothing to write home about.”
Craig rounded on the room, furious. “I can’t believe this has happened, especially after what we were just talking about. One more repeat of this disgraceful behaviour and the people involved will find themselves locked up in Gordon’s cellar until the storm’s passed.”
“Probably the safest place to be,” said Howard.
“Two women have died and you’re wasting my time with this shite when I could be out finding who killed them.” His voice bounced off the walls and they all listened in silence, deciding it would be best not to speak. None of them had ever seen him so angry before. “Just because we’re cut off from the rest of the world doesn’t mean you can start breaking the law. For the rest of the night just behave yourselves and remember, no one sleeps alone. Have you all made arrangements?”
There were a few sheepish nods.
“We meet here tomorrow morning at ten, just to make sure everyone’s okay.”
“I think there’s something else you should know Craig,” said Martin solemnly. “Something that came out in Bill and Jimmy’s little row.”
Craig looked at them questioningly but they avoided his hard gaze. “Well? I’m waiting.”
“I was the one who dressed up in black robes to scare Freya,” Bill eventually admitted, staring at his shoes.
Incensed, Craig grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him hard, forcing him to look at him.
“Careful, what are you doing you mad bastard?” said Bill.
The lights flickered wildly around them, threatening to go out, the music on the stereo cutting off. Then the power came back on, lighting up Craig’s furious face, the music bursting back into life.
“You’re calling me mad? I’m not the one dressing up to upset a traumatised woman. Bill Miller, I’m arresting you for intimidation. You do not have to say anything but anything you do say…”
“You can’t do this, I only wanted to shake her up a bit.”
“Well congratulations because thanks to you she ended up screaming in a corner thinking the man who’d murdered her mum had come for her. Give me your hands.”
“Craig, listen to reason. He wasn’t going to hurt her,” interjected Brenda.
“You were in on it too?” he roared in her face.
She took a step back. “Yes.”
“Anyone else?” Craig demanded of the whole room but they all refused to look at him.
“…will be taken down and given in evidence,” continued Craig. “Now give me your fucking hands.”
“It went a bit further than I intended, I didn’t mean to freak her out like that,” protested Bill. The next thing he knew he’d been slammed face down on one of the tables and his hands were being cuffed behind him.
Craig hauled him to his feet. “Open up your cellar Gordon. You’re going to have a guest.”
“You can’t put him down there,” said Brenda. “If you do I’ll be left alone at home.”
“He should have thought about that before he started playing dress-up and how do I know he’s not the killer?”
“He’s not.”
“He creeps around cottages where he knows there’s two women alone. If he’s not the killer then I’m going to throw in a peeping Tom charge.”
“No,” cried Brenda, putting herself between Craig and her husband. “Please don’t do this. He’s not the killer and you know it.”
“That’s just it Brenda, I don’t know. He doesn’t have an alibi for either murder.”
“Don’t do this,” she begged him with tears in her eyes. “He’ll freeze in that cellar and you can’t leave me alone.”
He was touched by the fear in her eyes. He looked to Bill. “Why did you do it?”
“I thought she was something to do with Catriona’s death and I wanted her to know that.”
“It was a warning?”
“Yeah, a stupid one I admit
but a warning all the same. I didn’t hurt anyone.”
“Have you any idea of the damage you’ve done you moron?” Craig sighed and took a step back to think. He had no evidence that Bill was the killer. Dressing up in black robes meant nothing and the last thing he needed was him freezing to death in the cellar, neither could he spare Steve or Gary to guard him. “Alright,” he said, removing the cuffs, “you get a free pass this time, but one more stupid move like that and you’ll be in the cellar. You’re lucky you’ve got such a persuasive wife.”
Gary and Steve finally arrived followed by a breathless Fred and Craig nodded to his constables to join him in the corner.
“Stay here a bit longer, make sure everyone calms down then get some sleep,” he told them as everyone returned to their drinks and conversations. He watched Bill hug Brenda to him then clap Jimmy on the back and invite him to join him for a pint.
“Is it okay if we have a pint or two?” said Gary.
“Go on then, the tension is getting to us all but don’t go getting blootered, alright? I need you two clearheaded. Oh fucking marvellous,” he sighed when all the lights went out.
“What’s happened?” whispered Steve.
“What do you think? We’re going to sing happy birthday. It’s a sodding power cut you idiot,” said Craig.
“Oh no.”
“Not scared, are you?” grinned Gary.
“We’re only stuck in the dark with a murderer. What’s to be scared about?”
CHAPTER 11
Craig made the dash back home across the road, instinct guiding him because he couldn’t see a bloody thing in the pitch blackness. Thoughts of Freya spurred him on as he fought against the elements, icy rain like sharp needles hitting him in the face. He banged on the door until it was opened by the vague outline of his mum and he hurried inside, slammed the door shut and locked it, dripping water everywhere as he removed his jacket and boots.
“Oh dear. Whisky?” said Nora.
“Where’s Freya?”
“Upstairs. You’ve got time for a wee nip.”
“Aye go on then, I could use one.”
The Elemental (Blair Dubh Trilogy #1) Page 14
