‘I didn’t know, but it sounds just like the sort of thing Karen would do. If she’d told Dad at the time . . .’ She tailed off.
McNab caught a whiff of fear again. What was she afraid of? That her husband wouldn’t come back or that he might?
He rose to go. ‘We never did get that DNA sample from Mr Jackson.’
‘I’m sorry. If he calls, I’ll tell him you need that and he’ll come down to the station.’
‘If you had something of his – a toothbrush maybe?’ McNab said.
‘I told you he took all his things when he left.’
‘Then we’ll have to put a call out for him to the TV and tabloids. That might be embarrassing for both of you. Especially if it’s in reference to a murder case.’
Her face had turned ashen. ‘Please don’t do that,’ she said. ‘I’ll find a way to speak to him.’
‘Good, then I’d better get back. You’ll call me if anything should change?’ McNab said, making for the front door. ‘In particular, if Karen should come here.’
Keen to usher him out, Eleanor now stopped in her tracks. ‘Why would she do that?’ she said.
‘We think Karen is laying her demons to rest. She visited Jean. Maybe you’re next.’
63
Jack was sleeping. She could hear the soft snores coming from the passenger seat. The peaceful sound of his breathing brought her a little peace too.
‘My sonorous breathing’, he’d called it when alive. When he grew ever more ill, Karen had longed for him to go to sleep, for when he did, she had her own peace back again, however short-lived.
Maybe that was why she was conjuring up the sound now.
The flashes of heat had thankfully abated, only to be replaced by shivering. As long as she could manage to keep her hands on the wheel, long enough to get to her destination, she would be okay.
Getting where she wanted to go, however, was proving difficult. She had never been to this town, never mind this house. She had her map, but now that it had grown dark, she had to keep stopping to use the torch to read it. She should, of course, have bought one of those new-fangled mobiles that could direct you to where you wanted to go.
Marge had offered to help her choose one.
In the end she hadn’t, because when would she be going anywhere that she needed such a phone? She knew Stirling well enough and she hadn’t thought she would ever step out of her house for a very long time, never mind leave the city.
She had the feeling she was lost again. In the dark it was difficult to find the street names.
Karen pulled into the kerb below a street lamp.
Jack had woken up. ‘You’re wasting your time,’ he told her. ‘Your sister won’t let you in the door.’
‘She might,’ Karen said.
Jack was right, but she had to try.
Fifteen minutes later, she found the street. The next problem was finding the right house. The house numbers seemed to be all over the place. Some houses had it above the door, some at the end of the drive, but eventually she did locate number seventeen.
Karen stepped out into the coolness of the night, shutting the car door on Jack’s last demand that she give up on all this nonsense. Breathing in the fresh air, she found that the shivers had abated and the flush of heat returned. Never mind, she told herself. This wouldn’t take long. Then she could rest.
The light was on in what might be the living room. It was a lovely house, she thought, looking up at it. Big. Eleanor had always wanted a big house. Especially because she had to share a bedroom with me.
Karen rang the bell and, listening to its musical chimes, waited for her sister to come.
64
He wished he’d taken Janice with him. She might have read the woman better. There was no clarity in McNab’s thoughts over what had just happened. The mix of bravado and fear he’d picked up from Eleanor Jackson – had that just been because her husband of forty-four years had left her for another woman?
Or was she hiding something else?
McNab had dealt with many unpleasant domestic scenarios in his time as a police officer. He remembered the smell of fear when you walked into such a home. The results of physical violence were usually obvious on the woman. The ‘walked into a door’ explanation. But sometimes the perpetrator focused on the hidden parts of the body, the bits covered by clothes. The arms, the torso, the vaginal area.
Last, but definitely not least, the onslaught of psychological violence. Insidious control.
McNab went through all of these possibilities, trying to match one of them to Eleanor Jackson’s behaviour tonight. Where had her fear come from?
He still wasn’t clear if she was in touch with her husband, and now wished he’d checked the house. Maybe Eric Jackson had been there, or even close by. Her surprise at the Stirling connection had seemed genuine, but . . .
One thing was certain, she did not want her sister to appear at the door. If Karen did, the likelihood was Mrs Jackson wouldn’t even let her cross the threshold.
But what if she looked ill? Jean had said that Karen had looked very poorly when she’d arrived at her place. Would that make a difference? And would Eleanor call him if her sister did appear, as she’d promised?
McNab had an overwhelming desire to turn round and head back, and basically hang around the house just in case. But he’d promised Ellie that tonight he would turn up for her end of shift at the Rock Cafe. If not, he thought, his days as her boyfriend were probably numbered. Or he would enter the world of non-monogamous dating.
When he thought about it that way, it didn’t sound so bad. If Ellie could sleep with other men, then he could sleep with other women. That had been the arrangement.
The trouble was, finding those other women.
McNab permitted his thoughts to turn to Rhona. He wasn’t convinced that her relationship with Sean was monogamous. It hadn’t been at times in the past. In particular, when McNab had risen from the dead after the Russian case.
He allowed himself a brief moment to dwell on that encounter, before returning to the truth, which was, if he had to fight for Ellie, he would gladly do so.
Fifteen minutes later a call came in from Janice.
‘They’ve spotted Karen’s car on the Stirling road. It looks as though she’s heading for home. What d’you want to do?’
McNab knew the one thing he didn’t want to do, which was to head for Stirling himself.
‘Make sure there’s someone at the cottage to see her arrive. We’ll speak with Karen in the morning.’
‘Okay. If you’re sure. How did it go with Mrs Jackson?’
‘Her husband left her, or so she says. Although I’d say she was covering for him. Any more sightings of the guy?’
‘Not that I know of. See you tomorrow. Over and out.’
McNab congratulated himself on his decision not to hang about the Jackson house awaiting the possible arrival of Karen. It looked like she’d done what she planned to do and was on her way home.
He had another thought. What if Karen didn’t head for Rowan Cottage, but instead went back to McCreadie’s place? If Karen was still ill, it might be better if she did go there.
Personally, and from the point of view of the investigation, McNab wasn’t keen on extending McCreadie’s influence any further than had happened already. Also, he didn’t want Karen divulging material to McCreadie until he, McNab, had spoken to her himself.
What if he was right in his earlier thoughts about Karen – or had he been way off target with that? Maybe she wasn’t hiding anything and her story had been exactly how it had happened that day.
He switched his focus on to what he’d intended doing tonight, and, ignoring any road signs that might encourage him to take the Stirling route, he got off the motorway and headed into town.
Shedding his detective persona was the problem, McNab decided, as he joined the mostly leather-clad clientele entering the Rock Cafe. Blending in would have been easier had he come on the Harley, but that hadn’t been
possible. He still felt like the polis as he made his way through the crowd and headed for the downstairs bar. Maybe it was the looks he got or maybe because so many regulars in here would know exactly what he was. Either because they’d met him in that life or they knew Ellie was dating a detective.
McNab realized just how awkward at times this might all be for Ellie. She’d always laughed the idea off, insisting that she could date whomsoever she pleased, but still . . . As for him, the only grief he’d got for dating a biker chick was caused by envy from his fellow officers. Which only grew when or if they met Ellie in person.
At that moment he caught sight of her behind the bar, holding forth with some guy whose dreams of what might be tonight were about to be smashed. McNab called Ellie’s name as he made his way over, keen to let the one currently chatting her up know he had competition.
The smile Ellie bestowed on McNab made his heart soar. There might yet prove to be a competition where he was sharing first place with some other bloke, but he intended to win Ellie back, and by a long Scots mile.
‘You’re here and on time?’ Ellie said.
McNab’s smile indicated that had never been in doubt. He ordered a non-alcoholic beer, adding that her carriage awaited her outside, when she was ready to go.
‘I have an hour until the end of my shift,’ she told him. ‘You want some food?’
Until that moment, McNab hadn’t realized just how hungry he was.
Seeing his expression, Ellie said, ‘I’ll order your usual. We’ll have to be quick. Kitchen shuts shortly.’
McNab carried his pint to the nearest free table and placed his seat so that he could gaze on Ellie at the bar. Her erstwhile suitor had given up and was now, McNab spotted, working his charm on some other lucky girl.
That image made him think about the other bloke, the one who’d made an impression on Ellie. So much so that she was contemplating having sex with him. Could that bloke be in here now?
He began a sweep of the room, just like the detective he was. No one was in here he recognized. Not like the last time, during the Skye case. He began to relax. He would eat, wait for Ellie, take her home . . . to his place or hers. He would make an impression. A good one, so that her thoughts of striking out elsewhere would diminish. He would do what she wanted . . . become obsessed by her, and not the job.
He might have missed the call, had he not gone to the Gents, where the noise of the music was less loud. He hesitated when he saw the number, knowing it was from work in some capacity, but then again it might be the news that Karen had reached home safely.
McNab answered to find Ollie on the other end.
‘What the fuck, Ollie?’
‘Sorry, but I thought you’d want to know.’
‘Know what?’
‘Eric Jackson. I found him online. He’s a user of child porn. It’s under another name, but it’s definitely him. I’ve been talking to some of my counterparts in Europe. He’s on their list. Probably indulges most when he’s over there on his truck runs. They were very interested to find out we know him.’
‘Jesus . . .’ Another piece of the puzzle edged its way into place. How far back did Jackson’s predilection go? As far as Mary McIntyre?
Robbie, Mary’s brother, hadn’t recognized Eric from the photograph McNab had shown him. So he hadn’t been on Robbie’s radar like the priest and Alec McLaughlin had been. But in McCreadie’s notebooks, Eleanor had told him that Mary chatted to Eric when he came to see her.
Could Eric be the one that Mary had spoken about to Karen?
If so, had Karen told anyone? Is that what she and Eleanor fell out about all those years ago?
McNab didn’t see that happening. Karen, like most kids back then, was unlikely to have told anyone about the abuse. The majority kept it to themselves, letting it eat away at them into adulthood.
Staying where he was despite the heavy looks he was getting, McNab checked if Ollie had let Janice know.
‘I’ve only just worked it out myself. You’re the first to know.’
‘Okay, get the word out. The boss and DS Clark first. We need to find this guy before he realizes we’re on to him.’
McNab stood for a moment, contemplating his next move.
‘What are you fucking standing there for?’ a big guy finally challenged him. ‘How many dicks are you planning on looking at?’
‘Yours was an easy miss, mate,’ McNab told him before exiting.
Back at his table, he wondered who else needed to know the news. Eleanor Jackson maybe? McNab pulled up Mrs Jackson’s number and rang it. Then had another thought. Maybe she knew already? Perhaps she’d known from way back.
As McNab went to kill the call, she answered.
‘DS McNab.’ Her voice sounded relieved. ‘I was about to phone you.’
‘What is it?’ McNab said, wary now.
‘I wanted to let you know that Karen did come here and we talked for a bit. About Jack and his dementia, and her dreams about Mary. Then Eric appeared.’ She rushed on. ‘I wasn’t expecting him. Karen said she felt ill and needed to go home. I wanted her to stay, so we could talk some more, but she insisted she had to get home. That’s when Eric offered to drive her.’
Her final words were like knockout punches to McNab’s head.
‘You let Karen go with your husband?’
Eleanor sounded puzzled by his reaction. ‘Karen seemed pleased about it. She asked to use the toilet first. When she came back down, she looked a little better. She said she’d be in touch again soon, then left with Eric.’
‘In his car?’ McNab checked.
‘No, in Karen’s.’
McNab rang off then, before he found himself telling Eleanor Jackson more than he wanted to. The last thing they needed was for her to warn her husband.
As for Karen, why would she let Jackson take her, if she’d thought for a moment that he had anything to do with Mary’s disappearance and death? Whatever the answer to that, at least they now knew exactly where Jackson was.
McNab looked round for Ellie but she’d disappeared for the moment. He would have to leave. He could try and find her first, or go and explain later.
As usual in this job, he really didn’t have a choice.
Back at his vehicle, he alerted everyone necessary to what was going on. According to traffic, Karen’s car was now approaching Stirling. There was no reason to suppose it had stopped anywhere in between.
The next call McNab made surprised even him.
‘Sergeant McNab, have you found her?’ McCreadie’s voice sounded worried.
‘We believe Karen’s on her way back to Stirling,’ McNab told him.
‘Thank God she’s okay.’
‘Eric Jackson’s with her in the car,’ McNab said, wanting to gauge McCreadie’s reaction to that piece of news.
There was a heavy silence, then McCreadie came back on. ‘You want to know how I feel about that?’
‘I do.’
‘There was nothing back then to suggest Eric Jackson had anything to do with Mary McIntyre’s disappearance.’
‘How closely did you look at him?’
‘He was away when it happened. He was older than Eleanor. Had his driving licence and worked as a driver for a delivery firm. We checked and he was definitely on the road. Somewhere in the Borders, I believe.’
‘So he wasn’t a suspect?’
‘There was no evidence to suggest he should be,’ McCreadie said sharply. ‘If we’d had DNA testing back then, we’d have swabbed every male in the vicinity. Him included. But we didn’t.’
‘There’ll be someone at the cottage awaiting Karen’s arrival. However, there’s always the chance that she might come back to you instead,’ McNab said. ‘We intend arresting Eric Jackson. I’d be obliged if you could delay him, if they do come there.’
McNab put up the blue light, knowing however fast he drove, he wouldn’t be there before Karen.
65
I told Jack to shift to the back seat,
but he wasn’t happy about it. I explained that Eric was going to drive and I needed to be beside him to show him the way, and that seemed to placate Jack for the moment.
Eric said nothing when I appeared to speak to a dead man. In fact he seemed quite amused by it. I suspect he thought that the police would never take the word of a woman who was so obviously doolally. Especially anything she said about what had happened forty-five years ago.
After getting Jack to stop complaining, I relaxed. It was obvious that Eric wasn’t afraid of me. I wasn’t afraid of him either. Not any more.
I sneaked a sideways look at him, noting the big hairy hands on the wheel. The side of his jaw, the still-thick blond hair, cut in a stylish way. He looked younger than Eleanor now, although it was the other way round really.
I still had a clear picture of him back then. He’d just had a haircut and there’d been bits of hair on his collar. And that smile, like he knew he could and would have anything he wanted.
I realized he was contemplating asking me something. Just to check if I was really losing my marbles, I suppose.
How would I answer if he did?
I could hear him thinking. His thoughts were mainly about how he would dispose of me. Or if he really had to. If I was muddled and mad, nothing I said about Mary’s death could be used in a court of law. And they didn’t have anything else linking him to her murder. He’d been careful about that. Or thought he had.
I didn’t hear that exactly, the way I can hear Jack, but I’m pretty sure that’s what was going through his mind.
He’d kept his promise. Just as I’d kept mine. But now that he’d left Eleanor, was she still safe?
We were nearing Stirling. I could see the castle lit up on its crag. I thought again how much I liked the golden glow of the Great Hall.
‘We’re nearly home,’ I told a snoring Jack.
I wondered if Eleanor had already called the detective. I hoped she had.
We’re sailing past the entrance to Rowan Cottage. If Eleanor did call the detective, then there’s likely to be a police car there by now, but I’m not ready for the police yet.
He turns left where I tell him, and I point to the house, clothed in darkness.
The Innocent Dead - Rhona MacLeod Series 15 (2020) Page 30
