The Drowning Tide (Blair Dubh Trilogy #2) (9 page)

Gray hammered on Freya’s door but got no response. When the door to the flat opposite opened he held up his warrant card. “DCI Gray, Greater Glasgow Police. I’m looking for Freya Donaldson.”

“Why, what has she done?” said the eager-eyed young blonde.

“Nothing. I’ve reason to believe she’s in danger.”

The woman’s eyes widened with excitement. “Really?”

“When did you last see her?”

The woman shrugged. “I don’t know, we keep ourselves to ourselves.”

“Do you know where she is?”

“She works as a counsellor, maybe she’s at her office? She was involved in those Elemental murders in that village in Ayrshire. Is it something to do with that?”

Gray refused to give the ghoul any more information. “If you see her please could you ask her to call me urgently?” he said, handing the woman his card. “I can’t stress how important it is that I speak to her as soon as possible.”

“What’s it about?” she said, but he was already hurrying back down the stairs, almost tripping over a skinny man with crooked yellow teeth repairing a cracked tile in the downstairs hall.

“Careful,” frowned the man.

“Sorry,” muttered Gray before barging his way out the door.

CHAPTER 10

“How are you feeling now?” Craig asked Freya.

“Okay. I’m getting used to it,” she replied with a small smile.

Once he’d steered them out of the marina Craig had just let the boat drift to give her time to acclimatise. They’d been aboard almost an hour and they’d only just reached Wemyss Bay, the next village after Inverkip. He hadn’t banked on Freya being so nervous on the water.

“Oh my God Craig. Look,” she cried, frantically pointing.

“What is it?”

“The Rothesay ferry.”

“Yeah, so?”

“Do we have to cross its path?”

“Yes,” he replied, unsure what she was getting at.

“What if we crash into it?”

“I’ll try not to.”

“Don’t joke. Look at the size of it then look at the size of our boat.”

“Freya it’s fine, honestly. There’ll be miles between us and it.”

“What if its waves capsize us?”

“They won’t. Loads of boats use this estuary every day and not one of them has ever been capsized by a ferry.”

She sighed. “You’re right. I’m being silly, aren’t I?”

He smiled and pecked her on the lips. “No, you’re being a right daftie. I know what I’m doing. Have a little faith in me.”

She ran her fingers along the line of his jaw. “Of course I do. Sorry.”

“It’s okay. Remember, this holiday is about relaxing and so far we’ve not done much of that.”

“You’re right.”

“Just let go,” he whispered before kissing her.

When Freya’s eyes widened and she pointed at something over his shoulder, Craig rolled his eyes.

“There’s two big ships coming at us.”

He turned to see two tugs chugging their way up the estuary, engines rumbling noisily. “They’re so far away they’re nearly in another time zone. Maybe this wasn’t such a good idea. We’re still quite a distance from Arran. Do you want to go home?”

She appeared torn before resolution filled her eyes. “No, I’m not giving up. We can at least get to Blair Dubh. That’s closer than Arran.”

“Are you sure you can cope with the village as well as the boat?”

Although Craig had been back to Blair Dubh since The Elemental incident to visit his mum Freya hadn’t, unable to face it. Nora had travelled to Glasgow to see them instead.

“Yes. I want to see Mum and Dad’s graves.”

“Okay.” What a cheerful holiday this was going to be. “If you’re up to it later maybe we can go on a bit further down the coast?”

“Sounds nice. Now would you mind looking forwards? We’re getting close to that bloody ferry.”

With a wry smile he rested his hand on the wheel, although there was no need to. The most danger they experienced as they passed the ferry was a slight rocking and Freya breathed a sigh of relief.

“I’d no idea you were such a wuss,” said Craig.

“I am not.”

“You are.” He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her against him. “I’ve got an idea that will help you relax,” he said with a lascivious wiggle of the eyebrows.

“Yeah, that’s great. Please keep your hands on the wheel.”

Craig released her with a sigh and returned to his post, sulking.

“Marcus darling, I don’t know how to thank you for this,” purred Mandy.

“Anything for you,” he smiled, holding her hand to assist her to step aboard. Not that she needed any help, she knew all about sailing thanks to an ex-boyfriend with his own luxury yacht, but she let him help because he enjoyed it. The boat was a neat little cabin cruiser, nothing too flash, which had initially disappointed her because he’d always bragged about his expensive boat. She’d soon realised this was a good thing, the situation required subtlety. For the first time in her life she didn’t want everyone staring at her.

“Need any company?” said Marcus.

“Tempting offer but I need some time alone to think.”

“Shame because it’s very cosy down there. We could have a lot of fun,” he said, leaning in for a kiss.

She allowed his lips to lightly brush hers before turning her head away. She didn’t want him at all but it was good to keep him dangling, make him think there was some hope so he would continue to jump at her every command.

“I’ve a lot to think about, including you,” she said huskily. She leaned in closer. “Especially when I’m tucked up in bed all alone wearing next to nothing” she whispered, just allowing their lips to touch one more time before pulling away.

Marcus beamed. “I’ll be thinking about you too sweetheart, make no mistake about that,” he said, slapping her on the backside.

Mandy forced herself to smile, although inwardly she considered stabbing him in the chest with the knife hidden in her handbag then pushing him over the side, but he might come in useful one day. Marcus was big and handsome with an adorable grin. They’d met on a photoshoot, he’d been the model she’d had to pose with and she wanted to like him but no one could compare to Craig. Sometimes she wished she could find the part of her brain that couldn’t stop thinking about him, pull it out and start over again, but that was impossible. He’d left her. No one had ever done that before and she needed him back. If she failed she didn’t know what she would do, she couldn’t face life without him. She needed him back under her spell, obedient and compliant, eager to fulfil her every whim like he’d been when they’d first met.

“See you in a week darling,” she told Marcus as he stepped off the boat.

He remained on the dock to watch her steer the boat out into the estuary. She’d driven like a demon to Largs marina, which wasn’t far at all from Blair Dubh. Half an hour down the coast and she’d be there.

She waved at Marcus until she rounded a bend and he finally disappeared.

“Thank God for that,” she said, relieved. She reclined back on the comfortable cream leather bench seat and tilted her face to the sky, enjoying the sun. Despite her red hair she rarely burned. It had been a while since she’d last been out on the water and she’d almost forgotten how much she loved the peace and the sense of freedom.

This was her last chance to forget about Craig and Freya and carry on past Blair Dubh and just have some fun. Even as she thought it she knew it wouldn’t happen but she’d promised to give herself the option. Her solicitor had explained to her that one more strike and she was out. If Craig and Freya went for a non-harassment order and she broke that after breaking the interdict then she would be sent down. She had to do this right. Get Freya out of the way without anyone realising she was responsible and Craig would come back to her, she was certain of it. Problem solved.

Before she arrived within sight of Blair Dubh she went down into the little bedroom in the boat to put on her disguise. First she hid her distinctive hair beneath a black bobbed wig then changed into a baggy yellow vest and khaki shorts. Not the sort of clothes she would normally wear, in fact she loathed them. At least her fabulous figure still looked good but then her body looked good in anything. A pair of sunglasses and a floppy sun hat completed the camouflage and she smiled at her reflection. Her own mother wouldn’t recognise her, never mind Craig.

Freya was almost relieved to see the distinctive coastline of Blair Dubh projecting out into the water. The ruined castle was the first thing that came into view, indicating the village was near. The sky darkened as the sun darted behind a cloud, turning the old stone of the castle into a threatening grey and she shivered. She’d almost died in that building at the hands of The Elemental, a serial killer. Craig had saved her life.

“Are you alright going back to Blair Dubh?” he asked when he noticed her eyes were riveted to the castle.

The sun came out again, turning the stones of the castle a warm honey colour and suddenly it looked picturesque, benign even. The extreme weather conditions that raged over this little spit of land often made the place seem alive, the ancient buildings becoming living entities, the ground breathing with life.

She forced a smile. “I’ll be fine.” All she wanted was to get off the bloody boat and if that meant she would have to go into Blair Dubh to do it, then so be it.

“Impressive,” said Freya as Craig skilfully steered the boat into dock. “Not just a pretty face.”

Puffing up with pride he gave her a smile and a wink.

During the summer Blair Dubh was a popular spot for launching boats, consequently its dock was busy, packed with cabin cruisers, small yachts and fishing boats. As the water was quite shallow it couldn’t cater for the larger hulled vessels. By September, when the weather started to turn, all the boats would be removed. If they were left they would be smashed to pieces by the violent winter storms that tormented the tiny village. The dock ran straight across the shingle beach into the water and branched off in two different directions, only a few berths left unoccupied. Craig found a free spot on the far end of the left arm of the dock where his mother Nora waited, frantically waving.

Craig jumped off the boat first then raised his arms to help Freya down.

“You okay?” he asked her when she remained frozen to the spot, gripping onto his wrists.

“It feels like I’m still moving.”

“It’ll wear off. Hi Mum,” he said, kissing her on the cheek.

“Oh my boy, it’s so good to see you,” she smiled, hugging him. “Freya, you’re very pale. What’s wrong?”

“She can’t find her sea legs, that’s what’s wrong,” replied Craig.

“Rubbish, she’s Blair Dubh born and bred. The sea’s in her blood.”

“That’s what I thought,” said Craig.

“I’ll get used to it,” replied Freya. “Hello Nora, how are you?” she said, hugging her mother-in-law.

“I’m great sweetheart.”

They chatted about nothing in particular while they walked along the dock towards the village. Freya tuned out the sound of their voices as she gazed up the hill towards the church which, after the revelation of Father Logan’s atrocities, was being allowed to slip into decay. She was much more able to deal with being back in Blair Dubh now that Logan had been unmasked as the monster he really was. Her mother, his final victim, could now rest in peace.

Down the small main street she saw Toby Moore, an incomer from England. He was one of the residents who’d been convinced she was responsible for Martin Lynch’s crimes. He nodded his head in greeting and she raised her hand in a wave as she followed Craig and Nora towards the latter’s cottage. She didn’t like the man but wanted to be polite.

Craig slung an arm around her shoulders. “How are you holding up?” he asked her.

“Fine,” she smiled back happily. This second homecoming wasn’t as bad as she’d thought it would be, especially as the sun was shining and the scene was so charming, the village in full bloom and the boats bobbing about on the blue water. It was a picture postcard moment, a stark contrast to the last time she’d been here. It had been winter then, pouring with rain, the light barely able to filter through the thick dark cloud and they’d been trapped when the sea had risen to claim the only road out. No chance of that now. She was almost upbeat as they entered the cool interior of Nora’s cottage where Craig had been born and raised.

Not wanting to spoil her good mood she forced herself not to look up the stairs to where Martin Lynch had tried to kill her for the second time.

Everything about Nora’s flat was spotlessly clean, the appliances positively sparkling. Although Freya made sure their own flat was always clean and tidy this put her to shame but she’d accepted long ago that she’d never be a domestic goddess like her redoubtable mother-in-law. Nora settled them both down at the thoroughly scrubbed kitchen table. Only now she was inside did Freya realise how damp she was from the sea spray, her face tingling with warmth, salt drying on her lips. 

“How many fans?” said Craig, frowning at the collection, some tall with their own stands, smaller ones buzzing away on the units and sideboard. “If you’re not careful the house will take off.”

“You know I can’t stand being too hot and isn’t it lovely and cool?”

“Yes but I’d hate to see your electric bill,” he grinned.

Freya smiled and reached across the table to grasp his hand, feeling herself unwind.

Nora chattered as she bustled about making the tea, catching them up on the local gossip. The big news was that a new resident had moved into the village, a single man who kept himself to himself, despite the best efforts of the village ladies to pump him for information. Freya thought it no small wonder he was keeping to himself, he was probably too terrified to step outside his front door.

“Adam’s back too,” said Nora. “He was released from hospital last week. He’s back living with Betty.” Adam had been Martin Lynch’s scapegoat and was a paranoid schizophrenic. Lynch had manipulated him into his sick way of thinking and had been setting him up to take the fall for the murders. Fortunately Adam hadn’t hurt anyone, in fact he’d almost become one of Lynch’s victims, receiving a vicious stab wound to the stomach.

“I hope Betty’s got some help managing him?” said Craig. Betty was Adam’s aged and partially-sighted grandmother.

“We all help her out but so far so good,” replied Nora. “He seems back to his usual self. Betty said he’s even taken down all those awful horror film posters and thrown out his serial killer scrapbooks.”