by Kerry Watts
Father McKinnon smiled and nodded gently towards her as she left after placing the tray on the coffee table at the centre of the room. He stood and began to pour them each a cup. A cup and not a mug. The crockery too looked old; antique. It had a delicate pattern of red rambling roses.
‘Help yourself to milk and sugar, Detective.’
‘Thank you.’ Dylan tipped his three spoonfuls into the cup, forgetting that it wasn’t his usual huge mug he was sipping from this time.
‘What were we saying?’ Father McKinnon frowned. ‘Ah yes, Theresa.’ He tutted before a wistful expression fell across his face. ‘She’s a poor soul, that girl. Her mind is troubled. So very troubled.’
Dylan sipped from his cup, regretting the volume of sugar. He placed it back down.
‘So I’ve heard. Did Bridget tell you exactly what happened to her this time? What was so bad that caused her to be hospitalised?’
Father McKinnon rubbed the thin grey stubble on his chin and looked to Dylan as if he was choosing his next words very carefully. Dylan’s eyes narrowed. Father McKinnon sipped from his cup then licked his lips.
‘Bridget Moran came to me, Detective.’ He hesitated while he sipped his tea again before wiping a drop that dribbled over his chin. ‘She asked me to hear her confession, but as you know I can’t divulge anything that was said in there.’
‘So she didn’t mention, just in passing, that her daughter was ill, or what might have triggered it?’ Dylan kept his gaze steady. The priest shifted uncomfortably as he shook his head.
‘The only conversation we had was during confession, I’m sorry.’
Thirty-Five
Theresa slid her feet into her trainers and grabbed her hooded fleece from the wardrobe.
‘Stop it, stop it,’ she said to herself in the empty room, then stared into her reflection in the window. ‘It’s not true. You are lying. You’re always lying. Lying is a sin.’
Instead of getting better, the voices had grown louder and more aggressive. They were shouting and telling her she would go to hell for what she’d done. Her mum had promised this was for the best, but Theresa didn’t feel any better yet. All that had happened so far was that the nurse was giving her an extra pill she’d never had before. She overheard them talking about her. Whispering behind her back. They didn’t know she’d heard them.
She tugged up the zip and pulled the gloves from the pocket. The knock startled her from her thoughts.
‘You ready?’ The staff nurse’s smiling face peered round Theresa’s door. ‘Good idea with the gloves. It’s chilly out there.’
Theresa nodded and followed him out of her room and through the door to the acute assessment ward. The pair walked in silence through the hospital grounds. ‘Accompanied ground parole’, it was called. Theresa hated that name, but she was happy to take whatever freedom they offered her. She felt suffocated in that place.
‘Do you mind if I smoke?’ the nurse asked, then offered Theresa a cigarette.
Theresa shook her head, then corrected herself. ‘No, I don’t mind and no thanks, I don’t want one. I don’t smoke. It’s poison to the body, tobacco.’
‘Aye, you’re not wrong,’ he agreed as he lit up.
‘It’s also a sin to deliberately poison your body.’
‘Mm, you’re probably right, Theresa, but I’ve been smoking for over twenty years.’
‘Aren’t you worried about going to hell, then? Does eternal damnation sound OK to you?’
Theresa fixed her stare on the nurse, who quickly smiled then looked away while he stubbed out his cigarette. He popped a stick of chewing gum in his mouth and offered one to Theresa while the silence returned. She shook her head politely at his offer.
He must really think you’re stupid. You’re not going to take anything he offers. That could be laced with anything.
They walked in silence for fifteen minutes. The cold air woke Theresa a little from the over-sedated fog she’d been in from the new medication. She couldn’t see how that was supposed to help anyone. She muttered under her breath to ensure he couldn’t hear. It was none of his business anyway. She felt the coins jingle at the bottom of her coat pocket.
‘Can I go to the shop?’ she asked.
‘Sure thing, Theresa, no problem.’
When they arrived at the hospital shop he held out his hand to greet another nurse. It became clear to Theresa that they hadn’t seen each other for some time.
‘You go in, Theresa. I’ll see you back here in five minutes.’ He smiled and looked away from her and focused his attention on the tall, thin man with a neatly groomed goatee beard and small round glasses. ‘Gosh, Tom, how long has it been, man?’
Theresa glanced around the empty shop and moved towards the chocolate bars. She knew exactly which one to buy.
‘Is that everything, love?’ The ruddy-cheeked, overweight woman who worked in the patients’ shop grinned at her.
Theresa nodded as she reached for some change and handed it across the counter. ‘Thank you.’
‘You enjoy it, darling.’
Theresa nodded again without answering and turned to see a hospital maintenance man propping the fire exit open with a chair before walking through it and back towards his van. Theresa turned back to the woman behind the counter, who was breathing heavily while carrying a box of stock through the back. Then she peered out of the window in the shop door and saw the nurse who had escorted her puffing away on another cigarette and laughing with his friend. Her heart raced. She glanced back at the open fire exit. Bridget would be so cross with her, but she couldn’t rest until she’d done the right thing.
Thirty-Six
Maggie McBride sat in her Mini and double-checked the documents she’d been asked to bring. Three months’ bank statements. Evidence of her current address. The electricity bill should work. A reference from her boss. It had been easy to get hold of all of these things without Calum knowing. Too easy, perhaps. She shouldn’t think about that. Not today. Maggie looked up to see a petite, well-dressed young woman lock up a smart, newish Nissan Micra and walk across the small car park in the apartment complex. Another new build. It would be perfect. Maggie knew that as soon as she’d found it online. A bit pricey, but they could make it work. Two bedrooms. Any further children would have to share to begin with, but it had done her and her sister no harm to share a room. If anything, it brought them closer together as kids.
‘Mrs McBride? Hi, I’m Rachel. One of the letting assistants.’ The pretty young woman held out her hand to Maggie and smiled. ‘It’s another cold one today.’ She hunched her shoulders up against the chill and tucked her folder under her arm. ‘Shall we head inside where it’s a little warmer?’
Maggie reciprocated her warm smile. ‘Hi, yes, call me Maggie, please.’
Maggie was impressed by the block’s outside security immediately. A series of automatic security lights that tracked your movement as you made your way from the locked outside door, which required a pin number rather than a key to enter.
‘The block is maintained by a company who are sent a code every time a bulb blows, so they can fix it straight away. They have a target of twelve hours in which to get the job done. The unique code tells them which bulb it is without having to test them all.’ The girl grinned. ‘It’s genius.’
‘It’s certainly impressive,’ Maggie answered as the pair waited for the lift. As soon as they stepped inside a voice asked them where they would like to go.
‘Level three.’ The assistant grinned again at Maggie, who noticed the only button in the lift was an alarm. Everything else was controlled by voice command.
‘Wow,’ Maggie exclaimed. ‘Very high-tech.’
‘Isn’t it?’ The girl agreed. ‘I love it here.’
Her enthusiasm was definitely winning Maggie over. She hoped the flat lived up to expectations. Once she stepped inside, her emotions attempted to get the better of her. The property was bright and airy. Recently decorated in neutral colours througho
ut. Both bedrooms were a good size, with the master having a fantastic en suite shower room. Maggie could picture herself and Darren in the large cubicle, and feared she’d blushed at the thought.
‘This is for you and your husband, is it?’ the young woman asked, while she opened her folder on the kitchen table and rummaged in the bottom of her bag for a pen. ‘Now, as I explained in my emails, the deposit is one thousand, payable up front, followed by a monthly rent of one thousand to be paid on the first day of the month, subject to successful references, of course. You both work, is that correct?’
Maggie barely heard what the woman was saying. Her imagination was running wild.
‘Maggie?’
‘What? I’m sorry, I was miles away. Yes, yes, we both work.’
‘Why don’t you go and have a wander round while I start on some paperwork?’ The letting assistant smiled at her. ‘Take your time. My next appointment is cancelled, so I’ve got as long as you need.’
Maggie moved from room to room, picturing Darren with her in each of them. It wouldn’t be long now until those dreams were a reality.
Thirty-Seven
‘I came as soon as I heard,’ Jessie jogged towards Darren Lucas just as Dylan rounded the corridor into accident and emergency. ‘Have they said anything?’
Jessie thought she’d seen broken before, but it was nothing compared to the expression on Darren’s face. He shook his head at her question before a young doctor walked towards them.
‘Mr Lucas?’ she asked.
‘Yes, yes, that’s me.’ Darren surged forward. ‘What’s happening? Is she OK?’
‘Claire is awake but she’s a little groggy. She says she has no memory of what happened or of the seizure. She doesn’t recall anything. I suggest her epilepsy has become unstable because of the stress. This must be difficult for both of you. I’m sorry to hear about your son – Claire told me.’
Darren scratched the back of his head and sniffed. ‘Can I see her?’
‘Of course. I’ve given her something for the headache and increased her anti-epileptic medication under the circumstances, which can be reviewed later. I would like her to stay for twenty-four hours for observation. Just to be on the safe side.’ The doctor glanced from Darren to Jessie then back again with a sad smile. ‘I hope you get good news soon.’
Darren nodded, then quickly shoved his shoulder into the double doors. Claire lay on her side, bundled up inside a blanket and curled into a foetal position, with a hand across her brow against the searing headache.
‘Hey, you,’ Darren kneeled by the bed and kissed her forehead before sliding her fringe out of her eyes.
Jessie felt all she and Dylan were achieving here was intruding on the couple’s pain, further emphasised by the arrival of Bridget and Phil Moran.
‘Come on, Claire’s going nowhere,’ she tapped Dylan’s arm and whispered. ‘Let’s get a coffee. Then I need to ask the McCabes why they didn’t mention their van was in the street the day Finlay was taken.’
‘That’s a bit suspicious, you’re right. What are they hiding? And coffee, that sounds good. Hospital canteen does a good latte, actually.’
‘I’ve also had a very interesting text from PC Wilde. Something she overheard about Mr Doting Husband.’
‘Oh yes?’ Dylan was curious.
Before Jessie could say more, the DC’s phone rang. He held up the display to Jessie before answering. Dianne Davidson. A torrent of information came down the line as soon as Dylan answered.
‘OK… so she knows Claire is here? … And how long ago was this? … OK, thanks for letting us know, Dianne.’ He hung up and turned to Jessie. ‘She says Theresa Moran turned up on the Lucases’ doorstep, rambling and shouting for her sister. Dianne explained what had happened and offered to give the poor woman a lift, but she ran off. Do you think—’ He broke off as a commotion from the ambulance entrance attracted their attention. ‘Shit, Jess, look.’ Dylan took hold of her arm. ‘You want me to go?’
Jessie shook her head. ‘It’s fine. I’ll handle it.’
Thirty-Eight
The winters were getting harder on her ageing joints. Chopping her own logs for the wood burner would soon have to stop, especially now that neither of her sons had the time to help out as much as they used to. Taking proper care of the sheep was becoming harder, too, especially with her house guest staying longer than expected. But she didn’t mind really. The little one was a tonic. Getting up at six on a biting cold morning was difficult at the best of times, but the baby had given her a renewed sense of purpose. The gales forecast for the coming few days filled her with dread, though. Maybe getting away from the farm, even if it was for an operation, would be good. That was assuming they got here in time to take the baby off her hands. She’d been firm with her on the phone about that.
She winced at the pain in her hip. That would have to do. She rubbed the joint and walked back into the shed to put away the axe. Cries from inside the cottage meant he was awake after his nap. She lifted a handful of the chopped wood and followed the sound.
‘Hey now, little one.’ Her eyes lit up when he stared up at her from his travel cot in the cosy living room. ‘It’s certainly warmer in here than out there, young man.’ She reached down but struggled against the stinging pain from her hip. She held the infant close to her face and snuggled her mouth into his cheeks. He was lovely and warm. She didn’t mind having him there. Not really. It’s what family did for each other.
A car horn honked from the top of the long driveway up to the cottage. Sam, the grocery delivery man. Her border collie was barking and chasing the van to announce his arrival, too.
‘Finally I’ll have some fresh milk for my tea, wee one,’ she cooed. ‘Maybe even get a bit of toast and butter. Didn’t fancy mouldy bread this morning.’
The baby giggled when she screwed up her face in mock disgust, as if he knew what she was talking about. He was such a content wee thing, despite his long day yesterday.
‘Mrs—’ Sam paused from calling out when he saw her coming towards him across the yard. ‘Oh, you’re there. I’ve got your delivery. Would you like me to bring it into the kitchen for you?’
‘Thank you, Sam, would you? Finally, a decent cup of tea. When I got back last night my milk had turned. I’m gasping.’
The tall grocer smiled down at her, carrying three carrier bags in each hand. ‘You’ve got company, I see. Who’s this then?’
‘Aye, and he’s staying a bit longer than anticipated, too. This is… Och, excuse me a minute.’ She moved towards the ringing telephone on the hall table, at the same time being reminded of the message she hadn’t listened to yet.
‘I’ll leave the bags in the kitchen for you,’ called Sam. ‘Square up next time you’re in town.’ The grocer headed back to his van before she had a chance to thank him.
She answered the phone. ‘Hello…? Thank goodness it’s you. I’ve been getting worried.’ She paused while listening to her caller as the infant gurgled in her arms. ‘Yes, he’s fine. When are you getting here? Because I’m not getting any younger, you know. It’s all very well asking me to help, but it’s a lot for me in my condition and I have to be back in Aberdeen in a couple of days.’ She listened again and her shoulders drooped at what she heard. ‘Just get here.’
She slammed the phone down, irritated by this very inconvenient development. They were really pushing what family meant to her to the limit. She pressed the button on her answering machine and frowned, then clasped a hand over her mouth as she listened. That sounded serious. She’d better call right back, and hope nobody would get in trouble because she’d left it this long to get back to them. When she couldn’t get an answer, she hung up and decided to try again in a few minutes.
Thirty-Nine
‘Where is she? Why are you hiding my sister from me?’ Theresa shrieked as she rampaged through accident and emergency, knocking trolleys and toppling equipment across the floor.
Jessie recognised Theresa’s shock
of wavy auburn hair immediately. She’d seen photos of her in both the Lucas and the Moran households. She lifted her hand to reassure the shocked receptionist, who was trying to calm the distressed, dishevelled young woman.
‘Hello, Theresa,’ Jessie called out. ‘Come on with me, honey.’
Theresa turned to the sound of her name and narrowed her eyes at Jessie’s outstretched hand.
Steady, this could be a trap. You don’t know her, do you? How does she know your name?
‘Who are you?’ Theresa asked as she surged forward, ignoring the voice, unnerving Jessie with the speed of her approach. ‘Can you take me to see Claire?’ she spoke quickly, right in Jessie’s face.
Jessie smiled, hoping that would soothe Theresa’s obvious anxiety. ‘I’m Jessie. Come on, you come with me.’
Theresa stopped and turned back to face the door. She glanced at the receptionist, who had replaced the telephone receiver – no doubt she was about to call security. Theresa felt her heart thud fast inside her chest. The voices were right. Who was this mysterious stranger who held her hand out for her to take? What if this really was a trap?
Jessie watched Theresa continue to frown at her gesture, and waited with her hand outstretched until the young woman cautiously edged forward.
‘That’s it, come on, we can chat in here,’ Jessie told her while she opened the door to an empty side room. She would have preferred more distance between them and Bridget, but it would have to do. The light blinking on startled Theresa into withdrawing her hand until Jessie smiled. ‘It’s OK, everything’s OK. Don’t worry.’
I’m telling you. You shouldn’t trust this woman.
Theresa’s green eyes remained buried within a deep frown. She walked across the small room, past the unmade bed, towards the window on the far side. She peered through the partially opened blinds at the thick, falling snow outside, then stared down at her feet, as if realising for the first time that they were freezing.
