by Kerry Watts
Dianne Davidson was startled by a loud bang from outside her kitchen window, almost spilling her cup of tea as she sat at her kitchen table. She grabbed a cloth from the sink then peered outside, but couldn’t see whose footsteps she’d heard crunching the gravel on Claire’s drive. They had managed to get away before she reached the window.
She opened the fridge and took out the milk. She poured the remnants of the teapot and recoiled at the sight of the curdled milk that fell into her mug, horrified that she had just drunk that in her first mug of tea. She’d get some more. She stepped into her faux-fur-lined boots and snuggled inside her duffle coat – Colin teased that it made her look like Paddington Bear – then lifted her purse from the worktop. She checked to make sure she had enough change. The fresh air would do her good. Some of the nausea that remained after taking all those pills still lingered and her throat stung from retching.
Dianne felt guilty about leaving Benson behind, but she hated tying him up outside the shop. ‘I won’t be long, you silly thing.’ She rubbed him behind his ears and promised him a treat when she got back, before pulling the front door shut behind her. She was sure it had become even colder in the past few hours. She smiled to the elderly couple with the bichon frise that she could never remember the name of. Henry? Harry? His little coat made her smile in any case.
She turned the corner onto the path along the burn, which was a short cut to the shop, and spotted the outline of someone sitting in the snow by the water’s edge. She was horrified to see that it was Claire. The water wasn’t deep but it must be freezing cold, and Claire’s legs were dangling close to the icy surface. A lump grew in her throat at the sight.
‘Hello Claire, it’s good to see you.’
Claire turned towards Dianne’s voice without smiling. ‘Hey Dianne.’ She turned her gaze back to the water.
‘Is it OK if I join you?’ Dianne asked.
‘Sure.’ Claire shrugged.
Dianne moved slowly through the snow, tugging her coat tighter as she moved. She lowered herself and tried to get comfortable next to Claire.
‘How are you doing?’ Dianne stretched her arm around Claire’s shoulders, knowing that was a ridiculous question.
Claire shrugged again without answering, then gently rested her head on Dianne’s shoulder. Dianne swallowed hard. The memory of the pain of Stacey’s death pushed forward in her mind. The quiet trickle of the burn under the frozen surface was the only sound for a moment, until Claire spoke without lifting her head.
‘What if I did it?’
Dianne was unsure how to respond.
‘Erm, I…’ Dianne muttered.
‘I don’t remember doing anything.’ Claire finally lifted her head and looked Dianne in the eye. ‘The police can’t decide. If I can’t remember...’ She paused. ‘That must mean I didn’t do it. I didn’t do anything to him, did I?’
Dianne looked away and allowed her eyes to scan the burn’s bank as far as she could see, then pulled Claire close and laid a gentle kiss on the top of her young neighbour’s head. ‘I’m so sorry, darling.’
Eighty-Three
Darren had driven back into the village and reached Maggie’s place in a blur. Nausea stalked his stomach the whole way. His phone had buzzed several times with calls – from that detective, he guessed. Sure he shouldn’t have run out like that, but he felt cornered. Why, he didn’t understand. He just did. Like everything was slipping from his grasp. Darren indicated to pull into the car park at Maggie’s block and parked in the last space next to her green Mini, relieved not to see Calum’s car. She’d told him Calum was out, but it was a relief all the same.
Maggie had been excited to see Darren’s number show up when her phone buzzed. She’d missed him so much she ached. She wondered if this would be a good time to tell him about the flat. Her application had been accepted and she could pick up the keys at the end of the week. Maggie was so excited about this new chapter in both their lives. She would help Darren recover. Get him through his grief. She ran a hand over her stomach. They both would. She rummaged in her make-up bag for the black mascara to try to do something to fix her tired eyes. She wasn’t sleeping well, and her eyes couldn’t hide that fact. The morning sickness wasn’t helping. Claire had told her how horrible it was, but Maggie hadn’t believed her until now. It was constant. She didn’t know why they called it morning sickness because she felt the nausea from the minute she woke up until she fell asleep. Even when she had to get up to pee her stomach churned. That was one of the things Calum fussed over. Her diet. She was sure he’d downloaded every available new parent’s guide onto his iPad. Calum was so excited about this baby. Guilt should have been Maggie’s overriding feeling, but it wasn’t. The fact this baby might be Darren’s was all she could think about. She hated the pain he was going through. And that Claire was going through, of course.
The rumble of Darren’s engine got louder, the hole in the centre silencer of the exhaust making it so recognisable. Of course he hadn’t had time to do anything about it. Maggie glanced over at the clock – Calum wouldn’t be home for two hours. She knew that for sure, because she had spoken to his client herself when he called to ask for an extra hour tonight. Calum apologised and promised he would bring home takeaway so she didn’t have to cook. Part of her thought she should be grateful, but it was Darren who occupied her mind, not Calum.
‘Hey you.’ Maggie wrapped her arms around Darren’s neck and kissed him passionately on the lips. ‘I’ve missed you,’ she murmured, and led him by the hand away from the front door.
‘You know I can’t stay.’ Darren pressed his lips against Maggie’s before standing to slip his T-shirt over his head. ‘Calum will be home soon, anyway.’
Maggie grabbed for his arm when he tried to walk away. ‘Don’t go. Stay with me, please.’
‘I couldn’t, even if he wasn’t coming home. I have to go to the station to make a statement or something.’
‘Again?’ Maggie was confused.
‘Yes, I don’t know what else they expect me to say.’ He dropped down onto the edge of her bed. ‘My son is still dead. What the hell else can I tell them?’
‘I’m sorry, Darren. I’m sorry you’re going through this.’ Maggie released her grip on his arm and caressed his shoulder. ‘Have they said when you can arrange his funeral?’
‘Jesus, his funeral. Nobody should have to think about their own kid’s funeral.’ He snatched his keys from her bedside table and walked away without looking at her. ‘I have to go. I’ll call you.’
Maggie wished she could take this pain from him. It was all such a mess. Maggie hadn’t planned any of this. Everything had got out of her control. She was terrified that she wouldn’t ever get that back. She watched him climb into his car then waited by the window until the dull roar of his engine faded. If she had known how complicated this would become that first night, after that first kiss…
Eighty-Four
Jessie sat at her desk and sipped the lukewarm coffee she should have finished fifteen minutes ago when it was brought in to her piping hot. She’d devoured the cheese and pickle sandwich she’d been looking forward to, wiping crumbs and a small piece of pickle that landed on her shirt. Her enquiries into the McCabes were stalling – it seemed the company van had a legitimate reason to be on Kintillo Road that day. Peter McCabe had called to say they’d been called out by a woman who lived not far from Claire and Darren’s. Her car had refused to start. McCabe had provided the customer’s details, telling the officer he’d spoken with to ‘tell that lovely PC Wilde no’ to bother herself aboot it’.
The customer had duly confirmed the call-out, but that didn’t stop Jessie getting bad vibes from the brothers, Peter McCabe in particular. His arrogance annoyed her. It didn’t help her mood to discover that Dan had been released without charge. She might have wanted to forget about the incident, but she’d hoped the man he attacked would change his mind and press charges. At least that way Dan might face more time behind bars.
It had taken several hours to get over the shock of his lunge at her. Ben had been so sweet, and if she wasn’t careful she could come to enjoy the comfort he offered. The custody sergeant had been kind enough to let her know Dan was back on the street at least. Forewarned is forearmed. Jessie didn’t think he would dare approach her now, but at the same time she couldn’t trust him to simply disappear no matter how much she prayed he would.
Dylan tapped briefly on her office door before walking in.
‘Jessie, you are not going to believe this,’ Dylan’s huge grin was the best thing Jessie had seen all day.
‘What is it? Don’t keep me in suspense.’ She smiled and sipped the coffee again before screwing up her face and quickly placing the cup back down.
‘The Morans intend to plead guilty to concealment of a dead body and obstruction.’
‘No way,’ Jessie beamed. She balled her hand into a fist and punched the air in front of her. ‘Fantastic news.’ Then she reflected on what this would mean for Claire. This was no victory for her or Darren.
‘I’m Darren Lucas, I’m here to see DI Blake.’
‘Sure, take a seat over there. I’ll give her a call and let her know you’re here,’ the desk sergeant told him.
‘Cheers,’ he replied with a huge sigh, and sank into the last chair in the row of black plastic seats in what he supposed passed as a waiting area. His eyes flicked across a board of notices and a folder of leaflets about home security. He could smell Maggie on his skin. He shouldn’t have spent time with her today, but it had stopped him thinking about Finlay briefly, and those thoughts were crushing him. Maggie helped him stop thinking about everything, and if he didn’t have that, he feared he would go crazy. Finlay’s funeral. God, when was that going to happen?
‘Hi Darren, thanks for coming in. Come on through with me.’ Jessie held open the door into the heart of the station. She punched in the code to unlock the interview room door halfway along the corridor and switched on the light. ‘Bear with me two minutes, will you.’
Darren nodded and watched her leave, allowing the room door to swing shut slowly by itself. He tilted his head back after taking a seat and, with closed eyes, inhaled a long breath before blowing it out, hard, as his head dropped into his hands. What the hell was the hold-up? He stood and pushed the chair into the table then walked up and down while he waited, his patience growing thinner with each second. He turned to see the door open once again.
‘I’m sorry about that. We’d scheduled time to have a chat with you earlier, but that didn’t happen, of course.’ Jessie smiled and was followed this time by PC Wilde, who nodded a greeting without talking.
‘What’s this about? I’m sorry I took off earlier, but I’ve told you everything, DI Blake.’
‘I know, I just want to clarify a couple of things. You’re not under arrest, so—’
‘I should hope not!’ Darren roared. ‘This is becoming harassment. You do realise that?’
‘Can you remind me where you were on the afternoon Finlay died?’
‘I already told you, I was with someone I shouldn’t have been. I’m not proud of that, but that’s what happened.’ Darren was struggling to control his frustration and avoided her eyes. ‘It was Maggie McBride, Claire’s friend.’
‘We’d worked that out already. It’s not our place to judge. We need the facts, nothing more.’ Jessie tried to reassure him. ‘Can you tell me: how did Claire seem to you when you got home? Before you discovered Finlay was missing?’
Darren frowned and shrugged. ‘Her usual self, I suppose. Slouching on the sofa where I left her in the morning.’
‘She didn’t seem different in any way, at all, in your opinion?’ Jessie persisted. ‘To the best of your recollection.’
Darren slumped in the chair. ‘To the best of my recollection everything about my life was the same until I didn’t see my beautiful boy in his cot.’
Jessie could hear his voice quiver under the strain.
‘I’m sorry you’re going through this.’
Darren didn’t answer. It didn’t matter how sorry she said she was; she could never take this pain away from him. Suddenly, the pressure of the past few days was released, and Darren talked. He really talked. He opened up about everything, and Jessie wondered if he was ever going to stop.
Eighty-Five
‘It’s getting late, Jess,’ Dylan pointed out.
‘I’m fine, you get home to Shelly and Jack. Give that gorgeous boy a big kiss from me, will you, and give Shelly a break. She must be knackered just now. That wee one must be ready to pop any day.’
Dylan offered a playful salute before snatching his jacket from the hook. ‘I’ll tell her you said that. See you in the morning.’ Before he left, Dylan spotted PC Wilde carrying two mugs from the kitchen. ‘Ladies.’
‘You get off too, if you like. You don’t have to stay, but thanks for this,’ Jessie told Isla as she took the proffered mug.
‘I want to stay. If you don’t mind, that is.’ Wilde corrected herself when she heard how pushy she sounded, but if she was honest she had nothing really to go home to. She’d been so happy when Jessie offered her the chance to help out on this investigation, which had become more complicated every day. It was rare that a uniformed officer was asked to join an investigation – in fact, she’d never heard of it happening before. The relationship she’d built initially with Darren and Claire had given Jessie the idea of bringing her on board, she knew that, but even so, the DI must have had to pull some strings.
Isla’s sister Molly had suggested this was a great opportunity for her and she should grab it. She definitely wasn’t in a rush to get back to what was now an empty home. Especially after the way things had ended with John, her ex-boyfriend. It was still weird to think of him as her ex. She hadn’t thought about him for a few days, which was just as well, because Jessie Blake didn’t need a broken-hearted basket case on her team. But watching him walk out of their flat with his rucksack had been horrible. Isla would never forget the look on his face.
‘Your social life is as packed as mine, then?’ Jessie teased, as if she’d been listening in on Isla’s thoughts.
Isla laughed a little. ‘You have no idea how true that is. Not that I mean you have no social life, of course.’ Wilde blushed.
Jessie really liked this tough little blonde who sometimes said the wrong thing. She reminded her of herself in many ways.
‘I think this all comes down to basic motive and opportunity,’ Wilde suggested. ‘Claire really is the only one. Darren was with his fancy piece, which we’ve corroborated, haven’t we?’
‘Not officially. We just have to take their word for it, but I believe him. I can see the guilt he feels about it.’ Jessie scribbled on her notepad.
‘Time of death clears Theresa of killing him, but she did conceal his body, we know that from Phil’s statement. I hear he’s going to plead guilty,’ PC Wilde added.
‘Aye, thank God. Bridget, too. We’re still assessing the best way to proceed with Theresa’s case, given her illness. And then there’s the Paul McKinnon murder. Bridget’s saying she knows nothing about it, and I’m certain Phil’s confession is bullshit. So what about Lisa McKinnon? Can you see her killing him?’ Jessie was curious about what she thought. ‘For the money? Or did Bridget want to keep him quiet?’
‘Honestly, I don’t know. Both of these women had motive and opportunity. Lisa’s phoned the station to ask about Father McKinnon’s body – she seems in a hurry to arrange a funeral, and has asked for access to the house to locate her uncle’s will. That’s another thing I came to discuss with you – I’ve gone back through Lisa McKinnon’s credit card activity and spoken to the hotel and airline – looks like she arrived two days before he died, not the day after.’
Eighty-Six
Jessie knew that Claire was going to need a full psychiatric evaluation. It was time to stop all this running around, chasing their tails. This case was so complicated. Not to mention Father McKinnon�
��s death on top of it. Claire had killed her son. Most likely by accident. That seemed by far the strongest hypothesis now. It couldn’t have been easy for Darren to open up about their lives and Claire’s post-natal depression the way he had. She was right about the guilt eating him up. His angry outbursts weren’t just the grief talking. He’d regretted being with Maggie that day, and Jessie appreciated his honesty. His pain was palpable. Jessie felt she was close to the truth, but struggled to feel happy about it, knowing what that truth was likely to be. She would go alone in the morning to pick Claire up.
She parked up and could see Smokey in the living room window, pacing up and down the ledge after hearing her car pull in. She smiled as a text arrived from Ben. She could tell how awful he felt about his mistake when they last spoke. It had hit him hard, especially in such a sensitive case. On top of that he was so desperate to impress David Lyndhurst. He was asking her out for a coffee. She tapped her fingers on the steering wheel and read it again. Her finger hovered over reply three times before finally deciding it was just coffee. What harm could it do?
Sure, that would be nice.
She locked her car before slowly crunching through the snow that lay thick on the path towards her block. She jumped at an unexpected cracking sound that echoed loudly from behind. She spun quickly and peered into the road, scanning up and down. Nothing. Why can’t the council fix that damn flickering light at the end of the path? she thought, irritated more than anything else. Her encounter with Dan in the cells had shaken her and she feared he was watching her; waiting for an opportunity to do it again.
Nobody had said anything to her yet. About Dan. But she figured it wouldn’t be long. Jessie sure as hell wasn’t going to volunteer the information. She dropped her post onto the sofa and picked Smokey up as she moved towards the living room window to close the curtains. The sky was heavy with snow again. Movement in the corner of her eye focused her attention to the end of her drive. She frowned and leaned down to allow Smokey to leap out of her arms. She screwed up her eyes and stared, sure she’d seen something, then shook her head.
