The Missing and the Dead

59

Sunlight caught the houses on the other side of the bay, making them shine against the hill. Then the clouds closed up, and they sank into darkness again.

Logan stepped into the spotlight surrounding Catherine.

‘That’s far enough.’ She held up a mobile phone. ‘David’s on the other end.’ Pink speckled her cheekbones and nose. She was thinner than she’d been the last time, back when the trial had collapsed. Two dead bodies ago.

He reached for the handcuffs on his equipment belt. ‘What did you do?’

‘How does it work? You’ve got a girlfriend in a coma, and another one living with you. Have you never even heard of loyalty?’

‘Catherine, what — did — you — do?’

‘We had a long talk with Helen yesterday. Found out all sorts of interesting things.’

‘Catherine Bisset, I’m detaining you under Section Fourteen of the Criminal Procedure — Scotland-’

‘No you’re not.’ She gave the phone a wiggle. ‘David, remember? Don’t you want to know where he is?’

Sand filled Logan’s mouth. ‘Where is he?’

‘You lied about our father, didn’t you? You lied about dad, and you did it in court.’

‘I tried to save him. He-’

‘YOU TOLD EVERYONE HE WAS A PERVERT!’ Spit flew from her narrow lips. Then a couple of deep breaths pulled her back. ‘David’s right: you lied.’

Herring gulls wheeled overhead, screaming in the last slice of sunshine as it was swallowed by clouds.

Down on the sands of the bay, the couple with the excitable dog turned back and headed for home.

‘He’s at the care home, isn’t he?’ Logan pulled out his phone and flicked through the contacts. Tapped the one marked ‘SUNNY GLEN’ then listened to it ring. ‘This isn’t TV, you can’t-’

‘Sunny Glen Care Home, how can I help you?’

Catherine pinched her eyebrows together, poked out her bottom lip as if she was about to cry.

‘Louise, it’s Logan McRae. Has Samantha had any visitors today?’

That bottom lip trembled. Good.

‘She has indeed. Her cousin David came up from Edinburgh. Managed to get some time off from his uni course.’

‘Is he still there?’

Catherine’s hand came up to cover her mouth.

‘Think so. You want to speak to him?’

‘Please. And Louise? Make sure you’ve got someone from security with you.’

‘Erm … OK …’ Clunks and thumps came from her end — doors and footsteps. ‘I’ve got some good news, by the way: there’s been a drop-out at Aberdeen Royal Infirmary. Samantha can get a place on the surgical rota in three weeks, if you don’t mind it being a training opportunity with students watching? It’s all done by camera though, they don’t even get in the room.’

A sniff. Catherine’s eyes glistened. Shoulders trembling.

Yeah, go ahead and cry, see what good it does you.

Three knocks. ‘Samantha? It’s Louise.’ The sound of a door opening.

‘Is he there?’

‘Oh … No. Hold on.’ A clunk. Then the beep-boop sound of a touchtone-phone dialling in the background. Louise’s voice grew an echo from the care home’s tannoy system. ‘Good morning, everyone, can Samantha Mackie’s cousin David please pick up the nearest courtesy phone? Thank you.’ Then a muffled, ‘Hugh, go check the terrace. See if Miss Mackie’s out there.’

‘Louise?’

‘They’ve probably gone for a cup of coffee.’

And Catherine Bisset couldn’t hold it in any more. She spluttered out a laugh. ‘We’re not stupid.’

‘Louise, where the hell is Samantha?’

‘There’s no reason to worry, I’m sure everything’s all right.’

The laughter faded and Catherine’s face died again. ‘I liked Helen. She told us all about her daughter, and how you thought she was the dead girl in the swimming pool.’

He took a step closer. ‘What do you want?’

‘Little limp body, floating face down in seawater, head all bashed in like that. Must’ve been horrible.’ She frowned up at him. ‘But it’s more horrible for Samantha, isn’t it? David and me know what it’s like to have someone you love stuck in a hospital bed. Unable to move, or talk, or do anything. Needing someone to feed them and wipe their backside. Not really alive, are they?’

He lowered his voice. ‘Catherine, I swear to God …’

‘Logan? I’m sorry, there seems to be some sort of mix-up. We’re having a bit of difficulty locating Samantha right now, but she’s probably in one of the TV rooms. I’ll give you a call back, OK? It-’

He hung up. Put his phone away. Unclipped his CS gas. ‘What have you done to Samantha?’

‘You did that to my father. You. You could’ve found him in time, but you didn’t.’

‘Where — is — she?’

‘You let someone cut him and beat him and take him away from us. Nothing left but skin and bone and blood and shame.’

He flicked the safety off the canister.

‘No. Because if you do …’ She held out the phone. ‘What do you think happens to her?’

The gulls screeched.

A patter of rain darkened the concrete wall.

Catherine shook her head. ‘Really, really think about it.’

He slid the CS gas back in its clip. ‘What do you want?’

‘I want my father back.’

‘Then you shouldn’t have killed him.’

She pulled one shoulder up. ‘He was dead long before that. We saved him. We had to, because you didn’t.’ Catherine pointed at a little Nissan Micra, the green paint scraped through to the metal down the passenger side. ‘Do you want to come see Samantha? I’ll give you a lift.’

‘You’re fourteen. And I can drive myself.’

She wiggled the phone at him again. ‘No, you can’t.’

Beneath the tartan blanket, everything smelled of dust and dog. It itched his cheeks and cut the light down to a multi-coloured gloom. Seatbelt clips dug into the small of his back as the car swung around to the right. ‘Where are we going?’

Catherine’s voice was muffled by the blanket. ‘I’m not allowed to tell you. David says it’d spoil the surprise.’

Lying on his side, on the backseat, Logan screwed his hands into fists. Should’ve hit the transmit button before handing over his Airwave. Stupid. Shouldn’t have given her his phone. Stupider.

But what was he supposed to do? Climb up on his pedestal and let them kill Samantha?

Stay in the backseat. Stay under the blanket.

Hope to God they don’t have a gun.

Or a knife.

Why did he take his stabproof vest off? Idiot.

A hard left this time, and the clips dug in again. ‘David’s not thinking clearly right now. He’s grieving. You both are.’

‘You didn’t see him lying there in that hospital bed. All eaten away … We did the right thing.’

‘I know. You did it because your dad was suffering. But this is wrong.’

‘We cried, and cried, and he didn’t even struggle, and …’ A sniff. Then a long shuddering breath. ‘No more talking.’

Click and the radio came on. ‘… and that’s your news and weather. We’ll have more at half nine, but first: here’s Water’s Edge, with “Love Fill Me Up” …’ A kitsch dollop of boy-band pop globbed out of the car radio.

A count of four, and Catherine joined in. ‘I was empty as a picture of a bucket on the wall …’

Still wasn’t too late.

‘Empty since she left me, I’m the loneliest of all …’

Sit up, wrap an arm around her throat and squeeze hard. Her phone was on the passenger seat, no way she could get to it — she’d be too busy pawing at his sleeve. Enough pressure and she wouldn’t even get a squeak out.

‘Hollowed out and broken, and battered, and so cold …’

And even if she did, so what? David Bisset would have Samantha as a hostage, and Logan would have Catherine. Mexican standoff.

‘Then in my mind, I think I find, the price for all the lies she told …’

Only they all knew that Logan wouldn’t kill anyone.

And David had already proven he would. Twice.

‘Doooo doo, dooo-deee-doo la-dooo, as something taking hold …’

Acceleration pushed Logan back against the seatbelt clips again. Either she was speeding, or they’d passed the town limits.

‘Love fill me up, to the top of my heart …’

Climbing a slight incline. Not steep enough to be the road out to Fraserburgh. Not enough right turns to be the one heading south either.

‘Overflow, let it go, right off the chart …’

Definitely came over the bridge into Macduff. So that only left one option.

‘Cause loving you’s easy, and loving you’s smart …’

They were going to the outdoor swimming pool.

‘Love fill me up, to the top of my heart …’

The car took a hard right, then descended a steep hill as Catherine ran out of words and went back to doo-dee-doo again.

It levelled out, then the Micra rocked and scraped its way through the potholes. Eased to a halt.

‘There we go.’

She killed the engine and the music died with it.

‘It’s OK, you can come out now. There’s no one can see you.’

Logan pulled the blanket off his head and sat up.

She tried for a smile, but it didn’t really work. ‘Told you it wouldn’t take long.’ Catherine climbed out of the car.

Rain clicked across the windscreen like the feet of tiny crabs.

OK. This was all doable. They were just a pair of kids.

He stepped into the grey morning. Turned to look back up the hill.

‘There’s a big sign up there, saying “Road Closed”. No one’s coming.’ Catherine picked Logan’s equipment belt off the passenger seat and clipped it on. Far too big — she had to hold it up with one hand. ‘They’re waiting for us.’

The North Sea surged, dark and heavy against the pebble beach.

She marched off, through the gap in the rock at the far end of the car park.

Just a pair of kids.