Written in Bone

by Simon Beckett

  ‘To find out what’s going on, obviously. You don’t get police coming out to Runa every day.’ She grinned. ‘Just fluke I came to see my gran when I did. Great timing, eh?’

  Now I knew why she ’d rushed off the ferry so quickly: she ’d gone to get a car. With only one road and the police Range Rover

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  parked outside the cottage, she wouldn’t have had much difficulty finding us.

  She turned to me. ‘Hello again, Dr Hunter. Not got a patient out here, surely?’

  ‘Never mind that,’ Fraser said, his face livid. ‘I want you out!

  Now! Before I throw you out on your arse.’

  ‘That’d be assault, Sergeant Fraser. You wouldn’t want me to file charges, now would you?’ She rummaged in her shoulder bag, emerging with a dictaphone. ‘Just a few comments, that ’s all I’m asking. It’s not every day a body’s found on Runa. That is what’s in there, isn’t it? A body?’

  Fraser had balled his fists. ‘Duncan, get her out.’

  She brandished the dictaphone towards us. ‘Any idea who it is? Are there any suspicious circumstances?’

  Duncan reached out to take hold of her arm. ‘Come on, miss . . .’

  he said, apologetically.

  Maggie gave a resigned shrug. ‘Ah, well. Can’t blame a girl for trying.’

  She turned as if to go, but her bag slipped from her shoulder. Duncan automatically bent to pick it up, and as he did she suddenly ducked to one side, peering round him. Her eyes widened as she saw what was in the other room.

  ‘Oh, my God!’

  ‘Right, out!’ Fraser pushed past Duncan and grabbed her by the arm. He began herding her firmly towards the door.

  ‘Ow! You’re hurting!’ She raised the dictaphone. ‘I’m recording this. I’m being physically thrown out by Sergeant Neil Fraser . . .’

  Fraser took no notice. ‘I see you hanging round here again, you’ll be under arrest. Clear?’

  ‘This is assault!’

  But Fraser had already thrust her out of the cottage. He turned on Duncan.

  ‘Get her in her car and see she leaves. You think you can manage that?’

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  ‘Sorry, I—’

  ‘Just do it!’

  Duncan hurried out.

  ‘Great!’ Fraser fumed. ‘Just what we needed, a bloody hack!’

  ‘She seemed to know you,’ Brody commented.

  Fraser glared at him. ‘I’ll take your statement now, Mr Brody.’

  The emphasis was deliberately insulting. ‘After that we ’ll not be needing you any more.’

  Brody set his jaw, but that was the only sign of annoyance. ‘What are you planning on using for a command post while you’re here?’

  Fraser blinked suspiciously. ‘What?’

  ‘You can’t leave this place unattended. Not now. If one of you wants to come back to town with me, I’ve got a camper van you can use. Nothing fancy, but you’ll be hard pushed to find anything else on the island.’ His eyebrows went up. ‘Unless you were planning on staying out here all night in the car?’

  The sergeant ’s expression made it plain he hadn’t thought that far ahead. ‘I’ll send Duncan with you to get it,’ he said gruffly. There was humour in Brody’s eyes as he gave me a nod.

  ‘Pleasure meeting you, Dr Hunter. Good luck.’

  He and Fraser went out. When they’d gone, I stood in the silence of the small room, trying not to acknowledge the unease I felt now I was alone.

  Don’t be stupid. I went back into the room where the remains of the dead woman lay. As I started to plan what I had to do, I felt the hairs on the back of my neck begin to prickle. I quickly turned round, expecting to find that Duncan or Fraser had returned. But, except for the shadows, the room was empty.

  CH APTER 4

  I SAT IN the front of the Range Rover as Fraser drove back to the village, drowsy in the stifling heat from the vents and the rhythmic tick of the windscreen wipers. The headlights fastened hypnotically on the road ahead, but beyond their cone of brightness the outside world was reduced to darkness and rainstreaked glass. I’d done as much as I could for that night. After Brody took Duncan back to town to collect the camper van, I’d used Fraser’s radio to brief Wallace while the sergeant taped off the cottage. The superintendent had sounded even more harried than he had that morning as I outlined what I knew so far.

  ‘So Brody wasn’t exaggerating,’ Wallace said, sounding surprised. The connection buzzed, threatening to break up.

  ‘No.’ I took a deep breath. ‘Look, you’re not going to like this, but you might want to think about getting SOC out here.’

  ‘You’re saying you think it ’s murder?’ he asked, sharply.

  ‘No, just that I can’t say for certain it isn’t. There ’s no way 32

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  of knowing what might be hidden under the ashes, and I don’t want to risk contaminating a crime scene.’

  ‘But you’ve seen nothing so far to suggest that’s what it is?’ he pressed. ‘In fact, from what you’ve said, everything still points to the opposite.’

  Except my instincts, and I knew better than to offer them as a reason. ‘That ’s right, but—’

  ‘So sending SOC would be purely a precaution at this stage.’

  I could already see what was coming. ‘If you want to put it like that, yes.’

  He heard the annoyance in my tone and sighed. ‘Under normal circumstances I’d have a team out there with you first thing tomorrow. But right now this train crash takes priority. There are still people trapped, and the weather’s hampering rescue efforts. And it looks as though the van that was left on the line was stolen and left there deliberately. So as well as everything else, I’ve got to consider the possibility that this was a terrorist attack. At the moment I can’t take SOCOs off that for something that in all likelihood’s going to be an accidental death.’

  ‘And if it isn’t?’

  ‘Then I’ll get a team out to you straight away.’

  There was a pause. I could understand his reasoning, but that didn’t mean I was happy about it.

  ‘All right. But if I find anything I don’t like then I’m backing off until SOC arrive,’ I said at last. ‘And one more thing. While I’m here I’d like to try to work on getting a tentative ID. Can you send me details from the missing persons database of any young women who fit the dead woman’s basic profile? Race, size, age, that sort of thing.’

  Wallace said he ’d have the missing persons files emailed to me, then ended the call without ceremony. As I hung up I told myself I’d done what I could. And he was probably right. Perhaps I was just being over-cautious. There wasn’t much more I could do that night. The batterypowered floodlight Fraser had brought was a poor substitute for the generator-fed lamps that would normally illuminate this sort of

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  scene, so I’d decided to wait for daylight to carry out any sort of real assessment. Putting my doubts to one side, I took my digital camera from the flight case and began photographing the remains. There was something oppressive about the derelict cottage, with its sagging ceilings and crumbling walls. As I worked I tried to ignore the irrational unease I felt. It had nothing to do with the pitiful mound of bones and ash in the centre of the room. The dead hold no fear for me. I’ve seen death in most of its forms, and I don’t believe in ghosts. If the dead live on, it ’s only in our minds and hearts. At least, that’s where mine were.

  Yet there was something unnerving about being alone out there. I put it down to tiredness and the mournful circling of the wind; the way the floodlight created dark shadows in every corner. I told myself that the biggest danger was that the remains would be compromised by the cottage ’s ancient roof. The whole thing looked unsafe, and with the weather getting worse I didn’t want a sudden collapse to damage the fragile bones before I’d had a chance to examine them. I’d j
ust finished taking photographs when Duncan returned with Brody’s camper van. It was actually like a small Winnebago, with separate, self-contained living quarters. Inside was relatively cramped, but as scrupulously clean as the ex-inspector’s car had been.

  ‘You’ll be fine. Nice and cosy in here,’ Fraser told Duncan, patting the side of the van. Somehow I wasn’t surprised that it would be the young PC who would be staying here overnight. Fraser jerked his head towards the cottage. ‘If she comes out to bother you, you’ve my permission to arrest her.’

  ‘Aye, thanks a bunch,’ Duncan said, unhappily. Fraser gave a wheezing chuckle. Promising to bring him out some supper, he had left Duncan trying to light the van’s paraffin heater and offered me a lift back into town. We ’d been driving for about ten minutes when I saw something standing out like a lighthouse in the darkness. It was the imposing house I’d noticed on the way to the cottage, now lit up by spotlights.

  ‘Must be nice to have money to burn,’ Fraser commented, sourly.

  ‘Who lives there?’

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  ‘Guy called Strachan. Locals think the sun shines out of his arse, by all accounts. Came here a few years ago and started chucking money around. Fixed up the roads and houses, paid for a new school and medical clinic. Absolutely loaded. Got his own yacht, and his wife ’s supposed to be a stunner.’ He gave a derisive snort. ‘Some people have all the luck.’

  I looked at the gaily lit windows, suspended in the darkness, and wondered briefly why life and luck should favour some, and victimize others. Then we rounded a bend in the road, and the house was lost from view.

  We reached the village not long afterwards. It was spread out in the darkness ahead of us as the road dropped down towards the harbour, a smattering of bright yellow embers. Soon we were close enough to make out individual houses, their curtains drawn to shut out the winter night.

  Fraser turned off the main road before it reached the harbour, cutting off back up a narrow side street. Standing by itself at the top was a tall old building on which was hung a neat sign that said Runa Hotel. It looked snug and welcoming, but after where I’d spent the afternoon anything would be an improvement.

  We pulled up outside. The rain had eased as I climbed out of the car. Shredded clouds streamed across an ink-black sky, giving glimpses of bright stars and a sickle moon that shone like a broken opal. The night was cold, but the rain-washed air carried a salty freshness. Even here it was so quiet I could hear the sound of the waves crashing on the seafront, invisible in the darkness. I followed Fraser up the steps and through the double doors. An appealing scent of beeswax and freshly baked bread engulfed me as I found myself in a long, warmly lit hallway. The bare floorboards had been polished to the colour of cinnamon by generations of feet, and the walls and ceiling were clad in old pine panels, so that it was like walking into an old ship. An ancient grandfather clock tocked away steadily against one wall, next to a mahogany-framed mirror whose silver was mottled with age.

  A young woman emerged through a swing door at the far end.

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  She looked in her late twenties, tall and slim in jeans and a blue sweater that complemented her dark-red hair. A constellation of freckles dappled her nose and cheekbones, above which were striking sea-green eyes.

  ‘ Feasgar Math. Good evening,’ she added for my benefit. I knew Gaelic was still spoken on some Hebridean islands, but I’d only ever heard it used in toasts before. ‘I presume you must be Sergeant Fraser and Dr Hunter?’

  ‘Aye,’ Fraser answered, but his attention was on the bar visible through an open doorway. An inviting murmur of voices and laughter filtered from inside.

  ‘I’m Ellen McLeod. I wasn’t sure what time you’d be here, but your rooms are ready. Have you eaten?’

  Fraser reluctantly tore his eyes away from the bar. ‘Not yet. Something hot would be welcome when we ’ve dumped our bags.’

  ‘What about Duncan?’ I reminded him.

  ‘Oh. Right,’ Fraser said, without enthusiasm. ‘I’ve got a PC out on duty going to need feeding as well. Could you sort out a plate of something I can take out to him?’

  ‘Of course.’

  Fraser was eyeing the bar again, hungrily. ‘Look, you might as well see to Dr Hunter. I’ll, er . . . I’ll be waiting in here.’

  He was already heading for the bar. The broken capillaries in his cheeks and nose hadn’t lied, I thought.

  ‘He ’ll be disappointed if he ’s wanting a drink. There ’s only me here,’ Ellen said. She gave me a conspiratorial smile. ‘I’ll show you to your room.’

  The stairs creaked as they took our weight, but there was a reassuring solidity to them. The dark-red carpet was worn and faded, but as scrupulously clean as the rest of the house. A flash of something white caught my eye as I followed Ellen along the first-floor landing. It came from the unlit floor above. I looked up the next flight of stairs and saw the pale face of a little girl watching me through the railings.

  I felt my heart stutter.

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  ‘Anna, I’ve told you it ’s past your bedtime,’ Ellen said, sternly.

  ‘Go back to bed.’

  The little girl took this as an invitation to come down the stairs. As she emerged from the shadows in her nightgown the shock I’d felt at seeing her was already fading. I could see now that the resemblance to my own daughter was only superficial. Alice had been older, and her hair had been blonde. Like her mother’s. This little girl was only four or five, her hair the same dark red as the young woman’s.

  ‘I can’t sleep,’ the little girl said, staring at me with open curiosity.

  ‘I’m scared of the wind.’

  ‘Funny, you’ve never been bothered by it before,’ Ellen said, dryly. ‘Go on, off to bed, young lady. I’ll call in to see you after I’ve shown Dr Hunter his room.’

  With a final look at me, the little girl did as she was told.

  ‘Sorry about that,’ Ellen said, continuing down the hallway. ‘My daughter’s got what I think’s called a healthy curiosity.’

  I managed a smile. ‘Glad to hear it. And the name ’s David. How old is she? Five?’

  ‘Four. She ’s big for her age.’ There was a quiet note of pride in her voice. ‘Do you have children?’

  I felt my face stiffen. ‘No.’

  ‘Are you married?’

  ‘I used to be.’

  She pulled a face. ‘Serves me right for asking. Divorced?’

  ‘No. She died.’

  Ellen’s hand went to her mouth. ‘Oh, I’m sorry . . .’

  ‘It ’s all right.’

  But she was looking at me now with realization. ‘It wasn’t just your wife, was it? That’s why you looked so shocked when you saw Anna.’

  ‘They were about the same age, that’s all,’ I said, as neutrally as I could. I knew she meant well, but seeing her daughter had touched on a rawness that was usually covered over. I smiled. ‘Anna looks a lovely little girl.’

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  Ellen took the hint. ‘You wouldn’t say that if you saw her when she can’t get her own way. She might be only young, but she can be a madam when the mood takes her.’

  ‘And you’ve still got the teenage years to look forward to.’

  She laughed, a good clear sound that made her look not much more than a girl herself. ‘I don’t even want to think about that.’

  I wondered where the little girl’s father was. Ellen didn’t wear a wedding ring, and from the way she ’d spoken earlier it sounded as if she was alone here with her daughter. Not that it was any of my business. She opened a door at the far end of the hall. ‘Here we are. Not very grand, I’m afraid.’

  ‘It ’s fine,’ I told her. And it was. The room was spartan, but clean and comfortable. A single brass bedstead was flanked by an old pine dresser on one side and a wardrobe on the other, its tartan counterpan
e neatly turned down to reveal crisp white sheets.

  ‘The bathroom is at the end of the hall. Shared, but only between yourself and Sergeant Fraser. We don’t get many guests at this time of year.’ There was resignation in the way she said it. ‘Well, I’ll leave you to sort yourself out. Just come down to the bar when you’re ready for supper.’

  There was a telephone on the dresser, so at least I’d be able to call Jenny. ‘Is there anywhere I can log on to the Internet? I’d like to check my emails.’

  ‘If you’ve got a laptop you can use the phone line in here. We ’re not wireless yet, but there ’s a broadband connection.’

  ‘You’ve got broadband?’ I asked, surprised.

  ‘Did you think we ’d still be using smoke signals?’

  ‘No, I just . . .’

  She smiled at my discomfort. ‘It ’s all right, I don’t blame you. We can still lose power and phones if the weather’s bad, so we ’re not that sophisticated yet. But it works fine most of the time.’

  When she ’d gone I sat down heavily on the bed. Its springs made a metallic rustling as they took my weight. God. I was more tired than I’d thought. The incident on the stairs had struck through the 38

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  defences I’d painstakingly built up after Kara and Alice had died. It had taken a long time to reach a state of truce with the cold fact that I was still alive, while my wife and daughter weren’t. Jenny had played a large part in that, and I was deeply thankful to have been given a second chance.

  But every now and then the loss would still hit home with a force that took my breath away.

  I rubbed my eyes, fatigue catching up with me. It had been a long day. And you’ve not finished yet.

  I took my laptop from my bag and put it on the dresser. I picked up the phone to call Jenny as I waited for it to boot up. She should be back from work by now, at her flat in Clapham where we were unofficially living together. Unofficially because I still had my own flat in east London, although I hardly ever stayed there. When we ’d left Norfolk eighteen months ago, while Jenny was still recovering from an abduction that had nearly killed her, we ’d both felt it would be good for us to keep some degree of independence. For the most part it had worked out.