The Elemental (Blair Dubh Trilogy #1)

by Heather Atkinson

  “It’s useless, her airways are too swollen. I don’t have the equipment here to help her,” said Martin in despair.

  Brenda’s grip on her husband’s hand was bone-crushing as she fought to live, the only sound the horrible choking as she suffocated to death.

  “What’s going on?” said Gordon, emerging from the cellar door behind the bar. “Oh my God, what happened to her?” he said, rushing over, but they all ignored him.

  “Please someone do something,” cried Bill.

  Martin attempted blowing air into her mouth again, but it was futile. Her grip on Bill’s hand weakened, mouth lolling open and bloated tongue protruding obscenely. The wheeze slowed, she released a small gasp then the rise and fall of her chest ceased.

  “Bren?” whispered Bill.

  No response.

  “Bren?” he cried, shaking her. “No,” he wailed, pulling her lifeless body to him and hugging her tightly, pressing his tear-stained face into her hair.

  “Sweet Jesus,” whispered a stunned Jimmy.

  Lizzy looked up at Gordon, who was watching the scene in mute shock. “You’d better fetch Craig.”

  Gordon nodded, glad to get away from the scene. He paused to pull on his coat. What point was there in rushing now?

  CHAPTER 13

  Craig, Steve and Gary were driving down the hill back into the village, relieved to be returning to the land of the living. After the graveyard they’d gone to the Parish House because Craig wanted to check if the gold cross was still hanging above the fireplace. It wasn’t. However Claire’s body had still been there beneath the sheet, the stench even worse, getting in their noses and mouths and they were all feeling extremely wretched.

  A figure emerged before them out of the sheet of rain.

  “Shit,” exclaimed Craig, slamming on the brakes and skidding on the muddy surface, the tyres seeking purchase. He wrenched the steering wheel to the left, narrowly avoiding splattering the figure all over the road. After some screeching and sliding the car came to a halt and the three of them sat in stunned silence.

  “Everyone okay?” said Craig.

  “Yes,” his colleagues quietly replied.

  Incensed, Craig threw off his seatbelt and jumped out. “What the hell do you think you’re doing you maniac? I could have hit you.”

  “Craig, it’s me, Gordon,” said the big man, arms clutched about himself, looking like a drowned rat with his thick dark hair plastered to his head. “You need to come to the pub right now. It’s Bren, I think she’s dead.”

  “What? Christ, get in.”

  The two men jumped into the car and they were off down the road, coming to a halt outside the pub. The four of them raced inside to find Jimmy comforting a sobbing Lizzy while Brenda lay limp in her devastated husband’s arms, a dazed Martin staring at her with his mouth hanging open.

  “Oh God no, please no,” said Craig. “What happened?”

  It was Martin who responded, the others too shell-shocked. “I thought it was a bee sting,” he croaked, looking stricken. “She’s allergic to bee stings and it looked like anaphylactic shock. I gave her a shot of epinephrine, it should have worked but it didn’t. Her throat just closed up and her tongue swelled, she couldn’t breathe…I don’t know what it was, there’s a mark on her neck, that’s why I thought it was a sting.”

  “A bee sting this time of year?” said Steve incredulously.

  “I know it’s unlikely but it’s what it looked like. The epinephrine should have worked if it was an allergic reaction but it didn’t…I don’t know what it was.”

  Craig grabbed him by the shoulders and shook him, forcing him to look into his eyes. The poor man appeared to be on the verge of collapse. “Have you declared death?”

  He nodded dumbly. “She was injected with something but it would have taken time to find out, I would have had to send her bloods to a lab for analysis…no time…”

  “Sit down before you fall down,” said Craig, leading him to a chair. “Gordon, get him a brandy, he’s in shock.”

  Leaving Gordon to tend to the doctor, Craig knelt by Brenda’s side, shocked by the thick purple tongue protruding from her mouth and the bloated distended body. Her eyes had been claimed by thick folds of engorged skin, the emotions she experienced as she suffocated to death clear for him to see. He experienced a deep sense of grief, just as he had for Catriona and even Claire.

  “This is your fault,” rasped Bill.

  “What?” said Craig, his own voice heavy with shock.

  “If you were a half decent Polis you’d have caught the bastard and Bren wouldn’t be dead.”

  “Bill, I…”

  When Bill swung one meaty fist at Craig he ducked and Steve and Gary rushed to restrain him.

  “I know you’ve just experienced a terrible loss but attacking a police officer isn’t going to help,” said Gary firmly.

  “Bill’s right,” said Craig, eyes shiny with tears. “This is my fault.”

  “Did you force this guy to start killing? No.”

  Craig had never heard Gary sound so firm before and nodded his thanks while Bill disintegrated into tears.

  “Have you got something to cover her up with?” Craig asked Gordon, attempting to recover his composure.

  “I’ll get a sheet from upstairs,” he replied, gently clapping him on the shoulder.

  “We need to move her Sarge, the whole village will be on their way, they’re supposed to meet here at ten,” said Steve.

  Craig glanced at his watch, they had fifteen minutes. “I know. We’ll wait for Gordon to bring the sheet first. Guard the door, don’t let anyone in until we’ve moved her.”

  “What if they complain about being stuck outside in this weather?”

  “I don’t care. Just do it.”

  Steve nodded and he and Gary obeyed without another word, heading outside and closing the door behind them. Gordon returned with the sheet and when Craig laid it over her Bill pulled it away. “Stop it, she won’t like being covered up.”

  “Bill, we have to do this,” replied Craig as gently as he could.

  “He’s right,” said Jimmy. “She can’t stay there.”

  Bill was as still as a statue and just as they were all becoming concerned that he was suffering some sort of fit, he nodded. “She wouldn’t want to be left lying there like rubbish.”

  “Why don’t you go on up to the flat?” suggested Gordon. “Help yourself to whatever you want.”

  Bill gave another solemn nod before bending over to plant a kiss on his wife’s forehead. “Why did you have to leave me?” he said, stroking her hair.

  The sound of raised voices outside alerted them to the urgency of the situation and Jimmy helped his friend up. Bill swayed on his feet, staring down at his wife before allowing himself to be led to the stairs.

  “You’d best put her in the cellar,” said Gordon. “It’s not ideal but there’s no option.”

  “Let’s do it and quick. I don’t want everyone staring at her like a curiosity in a museum. But first we need some photos.”

  Gordon appeared aghast. “Photos, why?”

  “We’ve no forensics and no chance of preserving the scene until they get here. We need all we can to catch whoever killed her.”

  Gordon sighed and shook his head. “This is bloody horrible. Last time it was bad, but now…”

  “Do you have a camera?” Craig asked him impatiently.

  He nodded. “I’ll fetch it.”

  “Thanks Gordon, quick as you can,” said Craig, nodding to the front door where the angry voices were getting louder, Steve calling for calm.

  Gordon disappeared upstairs, leaving Craig alone with a weeping Lizzy, a stunned Martin and Brenda’s inert body mercifully hidden beneath the sheet.

  “Can anyone tell me what happened from the beginning?” he said.

  “We were walking to the pub together,” replied Lizzy, hiccupping through her tears. “Bill and Jimmy had gone on ahead. We thought we’d be safe togethe
r but I wanted to get out of the rain. I left her behind…this is my fault,” she said before bursting into fresh tears and burying her face in her hands.

  “Did you see anyone outside?”

  “No, I just kept my head down and ran. Why did I leave her? First Catriona, now Bren. We were all best friends from being bairns. I’m the only one left.”

  Craig wanted to reassure her but lacked the energy, the weight of the whole horrible situation crushing him. The only witness had heard and seen nothing. What the hell did he ask her next? Then it came to him. Ascertain who was already here and hopefully eliminate someone from the suspect list. “Who was in here when you arrived?”

  “Just Gordon, of course, and Bill and Jimmy.”

  “No one else?”

  “No.”

  “Did you actually see all three of them?”

  She thought hard. “I only saw Bill and Jimmy, they were in here fixing a table. Gordon was downstairs in the cellar.”

  Craig recalled that room had a back door, so he could still have left and returned without anyone noticing. He was slightly heartened. At least he could eliminate Bill and Jimmy. It was the furthest he’d got this entire investigation. Unfortunately it had come too late to save Brenda.

  Gordon returned clutching his camera then he had to send Lizzy upstairs too, who was unable to witness her friend being subjected to the indignities of a murder inquiry.

  “Where were you when this was happening?” Craig asked Gordon as he worked.

  There was a loud click then a blinding flash, making Gordon wince. “In the cellar. I came back up when I heard Bill shouting.”

  “Did you go outside at all?”

  “No.” His eyebrows shot up. “You don’t think it was me?”

  “I have to ask.”

  “Yeah, course,” he sighed. “Sorry for being touchy but this is really getting to me. I didn’t go outside, I was checking how much stock I’ve got left. With everyone so nervous I’m running low.”

  Craig took one final photo - a close-up of the puncture mark on Brenda’s puffy neck - then covered her back up with the sheet, pocketing the camera. “You’ll have to help me get her downstairs.”

  “No, I’m sorry. I can’t touch her,” he said, appalled.

  “There’s no one else. My lads are stopping everyone getting in.”

  “It’s my pub, I’ll hold back the crowd and send one of them in to help you. I can’t touch a dead body.”

  “Alright, but make it quick.”

  Gordon walked towards the door then hesitated. “This isn’t your fault Craig.”

  “Thanks,” he replied, incredibly grateful.

  Gordon nodded and disappeared outside, the clamour of the crowd wanting to get in seeping inside, cut off again when the door slammed shut. A soaking wet Steve walked in ten seconds later, looking harassed.

  “Jesus, it’s deadly out there.”

  “Steve please,” said Craig, gesturing to the body.

  He cringed. “Sorry.”

  Reluctantly they picked her up, Craig holding her beneath the arms while Steve got her feet. Although Steve’s stomach turned over, it wasn’t anywhere near as bad as Claire’s charred corpse.

  When they returned upstairs the sound of arguing had got louder and Craig pulled the door open to reveal the residents of the village standing in a semicircle surrounding Gary and Gordon, all of them soaked through and looking extremely pissed off.

  “Alright, you can come in,” said Craig.

  “About bloody time,” snarled Toby before shoving past his fellow residents in his haste for the door.

  “Hey,” protested Adam, pushing him in the shoulder, sending him stumbling forwards.

  Toby’s immediate response was to whip round and throw a large fist at his face. The blow connected, knocking Adam flat on his back and he stared up at the sky with dazed eyes. When Toby tried to attack him again Craig flew at him, twisted his arm up his back and shoved him face down onto the wet road in one smooth movement.

  “Stop it now or I’ll fucking do you,” he yelled, twisting harder on Toby’s arm, making him grimace. Craig was even more furious than when he’d broken up the fight the previous night. “Brenda’s dead and you’re whinging about getting a bit wet. Pathetic.”

  Toby stopped struggling. “I’m sorry.”

  Craig yanked him to his feet, pulled his arms behind his back and snapped on the cuffs.

  “Hey,” frowned Toby

  “Shut up and get inside,” said Craig, shoving him through the door.

  With his hands bound behind his back Toby found it difficult to stop the momentum and he fell through the door and ran several steps before crashing into a table, knocking it over. “Police brutality,” he cried as everyone followed him inside. “You all saw.”

  “You want to see police brutality? I’ve not even got started,” said Craig, lunging for him again.

  Gary and Steve grabbed hold of their sergeant and dragged him away from the handcuffed man.

  “Stop, you’re going to lose your bloody job,” said Gary as they wrestled him backwards.

  Craig just pushed them away with an angry snarl and turned his back on the entire room, attempting to get his temper under control. When he turned back round he saw everyone was staring at him including - to his shame - his mum and Freya, both of whom looked shocked. His eyes connected with Freya’s, who had forgone her heavy black make-up, and all the anger drained right out of him.

  Steve and Gary helped Toby to his feet and Craig produced the keys for the cuffs.

  “Stay away from me,” Toby told him.

  “I’m taking them off,” replied Craig.

  “I don’t want you to do it.”

  Steve plucked the keys from Craig’s hand. “Let me.”

  Craig shrugged and shuffled awkwardly as he watched Steve release Toby’s hands, who rubbed his wrists while glowering at Craig.

  “Sorry,” said Craig, dragging his hands down his face.

  “You’re not fit for the job,” he retorted.

  “Don’t you talk to him like that,” said a voice. To everyone’s surprise Freya stepped forward, glaring at Toby. “You’re the idiot. He’s doing his best. What the hell are you doing?”

  Craig recalled her long record of assaults and hastened to intervene. “It’s alright Freya. I was the one in the wrong.”

  “No, I’m not having that. Poor Brenda’s just died, God only knows what state Bill’s in and this dickhead’s complaining about getting a bit wet.”

  “A bit wet? If you hadn’t noticed it’s a sodding typhoon out there.”

  “Then act like a man and deal with it.”

  “Don’t you talk to me like that,” he thundered in her face.

  “Hey, back off,” said Craig, scooping an arm around Freya’s waist and pulling her away, but it was more for Toby’s safety than hers.

  “Oh I see what this is,” sneered Toby. “You’re sleeping with her, aren’t you?”

  The room went deathly silent and Craig couldn’t prevent his cheeks from reddening.

  “Unbelievable,” he exclaimed, turning to address the whole room. “No wonder he’s not caught the killer, he’s too busy shagging Morticia Addams. Why am I surprised? She looks like a slag.”

  The blow happened so fast Craig was powerless to stop it. Freya’s fist connected with Toby’s jaw and he dropped with a groan.

  “I’m a slag am I?” she screamed, attempting to kick him but Craig held her back. “You haven’t a fucking clue what I’ve been through thanks to you lot who refused to help me when my mum was murdered by Logan. Get off,” she snapped at Craig, pushing his arms away. “It’s time this lot were told a few home truths,” she said, rounding on the room, her green eyes flashing. Craig thought she looked incredible. “If you’d just faced up to the fact that Logan was a killer fifteen years ago then this wouldn’t be happening but you buried your heads in the sand and now someone’s copying him. You wanted me torn from my home because it meant yo
u could get on with your meaningless little lives in peace and let a murdering scumbag get away with it. This isn’t my fault, Craig’s or his constables, it’s yours,” she yelled, jabbing a finger at the entire room. Freya experienced a huge surge of adrenaline when she realised every single resident of Blair Dubh was in the room. “He’s here, right now, the person who killed Catriona, Claire and Brenda.” This sent the already tense atmosphere sky-rocketing and everyone looked at each other with mistrust in their eyes. “You’re not going to get away with it like Logan did.”

  “Freya, that’s enough,” interjected Craig, not liking the way this was going, it felt dangerous.

  “You’re going to get caught and you’re going to prison, I promise you that you pathetic inadequate loser.”

  “That’s it, we’re done here,” he said taking her by the arm and pulling her to the door.

  “I’m not finished,” she protested.

  “Oh yes you are.”

  “I want to press charges, she assaulted me. I have witnesses,” said Toby, indicating the room. But they all avoided his gaze, feeling guilty for what they did to her fifteen years ago. “Well someone say something,” he exclaimed in frustration.

  “You weren’t here when this happened last time,” Gordon told him. “Freya’s right, we did want it all to go away because we were scared and we’re right back where we started because we wouldn’t listen to her. Maybe it’s time we did.”

  At that moment Bill trudged down the stairs, pale and red-eyed from crying, followed by Jimmy. “You think it’s coincidence this started up when she came back?” he said to the room before his eyes settled on Freya. “Where were you when my wife was dying?”

  Her face fell. “What?”

  “Where were you?”

  “At Nora’s.”

  “Testify to that can she?”

  “She was in my house,” retorted Nora firmly.

  “Did you see her?”

  “She was upstairs in her room.”

  “Did you see her?” he repeated, louder.

  “Well, not all the time but I would have known if she’d left.”

  “No you wouldn’t. She could have snuck out and you wouldn’t have realised. You killed my wife, didn’t you Freya?”