Blood Whispers (7 page)

‘Can you make out what they are saying? The sound’s not great.’

‘Of course.’

‘It’s pretty obvious from the state of the guy to her left – who we presume to be Kaltrina’s father – that they’re not sitting there having a cosy about the weather,’ said David, screwing his face into a frown. ‘Whatever they did to him, these guys weren’t messing around: what a state!’

Keira turned her face to Janica Ahmeti. ‘We need to know what the mother is saying.’

‘The girl has seen this?’ asked Janica.

‘Not yet. She’s being transported from Stirling to the police headquarters in Pitt Street; we’ll meet her there in about an hour. D’you need to watch it again?’

‘No, I got it.’ Janica then repeated the message back. First in Albanian: ‘
Stop çfarë jeni duke bërë, Kaltrina. Nëse ju nuk e bëni . . . ata do të vrasin babait tuaj. Pastaj – në qoftë se ju ende vazhdojnë të tregoni gënjeshtra – Ata do të më vrasë
.’ – then in English – ‘Stop what you are doing, Kaltrina. If you don’t they will kill your father. If you still continue to tell the lies – they will also kill me.’ ‘The next bit sounds like, “
Ai është në rregull
” – “He’s okay”, but it could be just, “
Be
okay”. There’s a noise on the first consonant. It’s either, “
Ai është në rregull
” or “
Te jetë në rregull
”, I’m not sure.’

Janica and Keira were standing around David’s computer, watching a grainy, blown-up version of the video that had been recorded on the phone left on Keira’s desk.

Even with the windows fully open and a fan blowing in the corner the office was too warm. The fan only circulated the hot air to other parts of the room.

Keira pushed back from the desk and headed over to stand in front of it.

‘What are you thinking?’ asked David.

‘It’s going to thunder,’ replied Keira distractedly.

David looked to Janica, then back at Keira. ‘You still got the heebies about last night? Forget it, nothing was stolen.’

‘What happened?’ asked Janica.

‘Nothing.’

‘I’d say it was a pretty big “something”,’ continued David. ‘Some freak broke into her apartment and sprayed eau de BO everywhere, then left without so much as one stolen object. He was still in the apartment when she got home.’

‘My God! Did you see who it was?’

‘No. I’m not even sure it happened. It was a long day yesterday . . . I was tired . . .’

‘What did he spray?’

‘He didn’t spray anything. Not only does David’s mouth run away with him sometimes, but he’s prone to exaggeration.’

‘You said this morning that you could still catch the guy’s scent.’

‘I didn’t say he’d sprayed anything.’

‘Could have been a cat burglar,’ said David with a grin wider than the lame gag warranted.

But Keira wasn’t in the mood. ‘Copy the video and send it over to Patrick Sellar’s office. Recorded delivery so that he can’t deny having received it. Then make another copy and take it there yourself as back-up.’

David got up from behind his desk and headed for the door. He was used to Keira covering all the angles. If she wanted Sellar to have a copy of the tape then there had to be a good reason.

‘Sure. I’ll sort that out.’

After David had left the room Janica looked over at Keira. ‘He is studying to be a lawyer?’

‘He probably has a better grasp of the law, and – more importantly – how to apply it, than anyone in this practice, but he’d rather spend his time ordering at the bar than studying for it.’

David drew the back of his hand across his brow and stared off down the length of the stuffy, windowless corridor. ‘Dark blue carpet tiles with khaki walls: whoever came up with that combo should be put away.’

He was sitting between Keira and Janica outside an interview room at Strathclyde Police HQ in the centre of town, waiting for Kaltrina Dervishi to arrive. Keira was struggling with how best to help the girl. She’d tried asking for the charges to be dropped and for the girl to be taken into a witness protection programme, but Sellar wasn’t playing the game. It was increasingly likely that Kaltrina would have to face the son-of-a-bitch in court. In order to help the girl fully, Keira needed to know everything. There could be no secrets: no surprises when she got to court.

Up to this point her client had been communicative, but Keira got the impression she was holding something back.

She was also concerned that the video recording was likely to have its intended effect on Kaltrina and make her stop talking to them.

Today Kaltrina Dervishi was being herself. The lawyer had played a big role in making her feel comfortable in her own skin. She treated her like a human being, didn’t patronize her and listened to what she had to say without judging her. Kaltrina felt safe when Keira was around and regretted not being able to speak enough English to talk to her without the translator, whom she didn’t trust. She would be more open if it was just the two of them. Kaltrina could judge someone’s character within seconds of meeting them – in her line of business it was essential – and something about Janica Ahmeti made her feel uneasy. Kaltrina noticed how the interpreter behaved around Keira: almost as though she was nervous of her. She was fairly certain that Janica found the lawyer attractive, so it could simply be that.

Kaltrina stood, extending her cuffed hands towards Keira as she entered the room. ‘They think maybe I attack you. I don’t know.’

Keira put her arm round the girl in an affectionate embrace. ‘How are you, Kaltrina? Is it my imagination, or has your face filled out a little since I saw you yesterday?’

The girl smiled as Janica translated the words into Albanian. Then replied in broken English, ‘I eating everything they are give me in prison, but nothing is without chips. You ask for glass of water . . . it is glass of water and chips. This is why . . .’ she didn’t finish the sentence, but blew her cheeks out to illustrate her point.

The room was small and stuffy with a table in the middle, four chairs and nothing else. Everyone took a seat while the escorting prison officer stood by the door, watching over them.

‘What is trouble you today?’ asked Kaltrina.

‘What d’you mean?’ replied Keira.

‘You have
shqetësoj
on face. I can see.’

‘Worry, distress,’ translated Janica.

‘Something is not good?’

‘You’re very perceptive, Kaltrina. I’ve brought a recording I need you to watch, but I’m concerned it’s going to upset you. I’d rather not have to show it to you, but I have no option.’

‘My whole life is upset.’ Kaltrina shrugged. ‘One more thing will make not a difference.’

On Keira’s cue, David reached into his shoulder bag and pulled out a tablet computer, which he laid on the table in front of her, then without further prompting pressed
PLAY
.

Kaltrina’s expression remained flat as she watched the video of her mother and father. It was less than a minute long, but by the end, as she lifted her gaze back to Keira there were tears running down her cheeks.

The room was silent.

It was several minutes before Kaltrina said in a quiet voice, ‘I weep not for them.’

Sitting there with no make-up, she looked small and vulnerable: too young to have to deal with this sort of pressure. Keira wanted to push the table aside and pull the girl to her in a tight embrace, take the pain on herself.

Kaltrina spoke again, this time in Albanian, pointing at her stomach and gesturing with her hands. While she was talking, Keira turned to Janica for a translation, but she just sat there, almost as though she was avoiding Keira’s stare. When Kaltrina had finished, Janica looked down at the shorthand notes she had made on her pad, but remained silent.

Keira was about to ask what had been said when Kaltrina spoke: ‘They say on video, I am liar, to make doubt in your head. But I tell only truth.’

‘I know that, Kaltrina, but these people have threatened your family. If you decide you don’t want to say anything else in case they carry out the threat, I’d understand. It’d make my life more difficult, but I’d understand. We need to come up with a way of moving forward that keeps everyone safe.’

‘There is no safety for my parents. They are already dead. You are not understanding the Clan, Keira. They make video for scare me, but will have killed my parents anyway.’

At this point Janica interrupted with a question. ‘
A njerëzit thonë
, “
Ai është në rregull
”
ose
“
të jetë në rregull
”?’

Keira was about to tell Janica not to ask questions without running them by her first when Kaltrina answered in English, ‘It sound like “Be okay”.’

‘Not “
He’s
okay”?’ asked Janica.

‘I think no. I think my mother say, “Be okay,” said Kaltrina, shrugging her shoulders. Then turning to Keira she continued, ‘Now I wish speak with you only.’

Keira didn’t ask why. She gestured to David and Janica to leave the room, then asked the prison officer if he would mind waiting outside also. He didn’t look too happy, but agreed.

Kaltrina waited for everyone to leave before leaning forward.

‘You are only person I trust, Keira,’ she said in a whisper.

‘Good. I want you to trust me. I’m sorry I had to show you the video. It doesn’t make me feel good: I feel like you’ve been through enough. I really hope you’re wrong about your mum and dad.’

‘I am not wrong.’

The quiet, resigned tone in Kaltrina’s voice and the resolute acceptance of her situation reminded Keira of herself when she was younger.

This was the reason she liked the girl. From the moment they met they had been connected. Underneath was in turmoil, but the surface was flat calm.

‘I’ll do my best for you, you know that.’

‘I know. This is why I tell only you. It must be secret. You must make promise.’

‘I promise.’

‘I will tell everything I know. But I need something at first.’

‘You need me to do something first?’

‘Yes. Last thing my mother do is send me message.’ Kaltrina’s eyes started to fill as she continued to speak, but no tears broke. ‘She is brave one. She say, “He’s okay”.’

‘“
He’s
okay,” not “
Be
okay”?’

‘I tell Janica lie, because I not trusting her. “He’s okay,” my mother say. You must find him and make him safe. Then I tell you everything. But Clan must never know or they kill him too. Is secret and you promise?’

‘It is a secret and I do promise, but who is “he”? Who is your mother talking about?’

‘His name is Ermir. He is my son.’

An hour into the journey south, past Dalmellington and on toward Dumfries, the rain started. The old BMW 3 Series was being buffeted from side to side by the wind. Torrents of water battered off the windscreen, making it almost impossible to see the road ahead.

The travel time would have been a lot shorter if she’d taken the motorway route down to Scaur, but it was a much less interesting drive.

The sky had turned black and muted peals of thunder rolled across the scree-covered hilltops in the distance. The narrow road twisted and wended its way along the outskirts of the Galloway Forest Park. Even under normal driving conditions it was a test of Keira’s motoring skills. If her grandmother wasn’t so unwell, she’d turn back and try again tomorrow, or at least pull in and let the storm pass, but she was already behind schedule. She didn’t want this to be the one time in her life she arrived late for an appointment.

The mobile phone sitting on the passenger seat started to buzz. Keira frowned and picked it up.

‘Hello.’

‘Keira?’

‘Yes.’

‘I wasn’t expecting you to pick up.’

‘Is everything all right, Janica?’

‘Yes, sure. Is this bad time?’

‘I’m driving; can I call you back in about an hour?’

‘Okay.’

Keira could hear a hint of disappointment in Janica’s voice.

‘Sorry, it’s like a scene from the Genesis flood narrative here. It’s raining so hard I should be in a boat.’

‘I’ve stayed on in Glasgow and was just wondering what you were up to. D’you want to meet up later for a drink?’

‘I can’t, Janica, I’m heading out of town. Maybe one night next week.’

‘Of course: you mentioned earlier. Sorry, I forget.’

‘It’s no bother. I’ve got a situation going on with my grandmother, so I’m heading down to see her. I’d better get off the phone before I hit something. Talk to you later.’

Keira hung up and tossed the phone back on to the seat.

The CD player was stuck on ‘Wild Eyed Boy from Freecloud’. It was the only track that jumped on her Bowie compilation. She pressed
SKIP
to jump to the end of the track then turned the volume up ready for ‘What in the World’.

As she stared out at the rain pounding against the windscreen she tried to shake loose the thought that her grandmother’s life was about to end. Keira couldn’t bear to let the idea form fully in her head.

The three women had moved to Scotland from Northern Ireland when Keira was just eight years old.

Cut off from friends and family, her mother and grandmother had struggled to bring Keira up by themselves. Her grandmother in particular had helped her through the debilitating bouts of depression she’d suffered as a teenager. She could talk to the scared young girl who for so many years lacked the confidence to play – or make friends – with people her own age. Keira wasn’t naturally bookish: it was circumstance that turned her into an avid reader. And once the information was in, she never forgot. She got on well with her mother, but she didn’t have quite the same insight as her gran into who Keira really was.

Her grandmother was also the only person in the world who had ever made Keira laugh to the point where she couldn’t breathe. It was for her that Keira had gone to university. It was for her that Keira had tried to stop dwelling on the events of the past and start moving forward. It was for her that Keira had studied long into the night to pass her law exams.

If it rained twice as hard, Keira would still keep going, rather than risk letting her grandmother down.

She had been so focused on keeping the car on the road that she’d failed to notice the black Land Rover Evoque that had been following her since she left Glasgow. At first she was only aware of the diffracted glare of headlamps in the rear window. Now – each time she checked – the car seemed to have moved a little closer, closing the gap between them until eventually it was sitting right on her tail. There was no reason for her to presume she was being followed, but the events of the last few days had made her more wary.

The A713 between Ayr and Castle Douglas had a single carriageway in either direction, with very few turn-offs or places to overtake. It was reasonable to assume that because of the weather and the narrow road someone on their way home from work could be behind her for quite some time, but Keira had a feeling that this was not what was happening here. She checked her mirror, hoping to catch a glimpse of the driver, but the rain hitting the windscreen and the diffused blaze of the headlamps made it impossible.

Suddenly a loud horn sounded in front of Keira causing her to veer sharply to the left. A huge low-loader hauling lengths of concrete ducting sped past in the opposite direction, the sound of the horn fading, along with the truck, into the swirls of spray left in its wake.

As she swerved out of the truck’s path the rear end of the BMW slid out to the right, then whipped suddenly back to the left as she tried to straighten up. For the next twenty yards she fought to keep the car under control, swerving from side to side as it slipped and skidded on the waterlogged surface of the road, but each twist of the steering wheel seemed only to make matters worse.

Keira glanced quickly into her mirror and saw that the black car, instead of backing off or slowing down, had moved even closer, manoeuvring into position ready to shunt her off the road.

‘Back off, you son-of-a-bitch,’ muttered Keira as she slammed her foot on the accelerator and yanked the steering wheel to the right to try to bring the car under control. The rear end of the BMW swerved again, this time sliding sideways in a drift for several feet and spraying a sheet of water high into the air before slamming hard into the drystone wall running along the edge of the road. Keira heard the nearside tail-end crunch against stone as it clipped the large granite boulders. She slammed on the brakes and skidded to a halt, stalling the engine.

She had been holding her breath: her heart pounding in her chest, her lungs screaming for air.

When she checked the mirror, the car behind was gone.

The road ahead appeared to be empty. As far as she could remember, there were no side-roads on this stretch: nowhere for the Evoque to go.

‘Jesus! What the hell is going on?’

Keira was suddenly aware of how tightly she had been gripping the steering wheel. She took a deep breath and tried to relax her shoulders, then reached across, blindly fumbling through her handbag which was lying open on the passenger seat. She pulled out a soft pouch of tobacco containing three ready-rolled cigarettes and depressed the car’s cigarette lighter.

She slipped the car into neutral and turned the key in the ignition. After wheezing and spitting the starter motor eventually caught and the engine came to life again. That’s when she noticed the low-fuel light had come on.

Keira reckoned she was somewhere between Carsfad Loch and Earlstoun Loch. St John’s Town of Dalry was just a few miles up ahead and she was certain there was a small petrol station somewhere on the right.

She would stop there. It would also give her a chance to check how much damage had been done to the car.

When the cigarette lighter popped she touched it to the end of one of the roll-ups. The cigarette had been wrapped too tightly to draw on properly and it took her several small puffs before she could get a satisfying lungful. The last few bars of ‘What in the World’ faded to silence as she breathed a long smoke-filled sigh.

A few miles further on the rain started to ease. As she rounded a bend at the end of Earlstoun Loch she spotted the small filling station up ahead. She flipped the indicator paddle to turn right, then tensed. Sitting in the forecourt beside one of only two pumps was the black Land Rover. Keira hesitated: Scaur was only another thirty miles or so, but the BMW’s petrol gauge was notoriously unreliable. It could take her all the way there or it might run out within the next mile and leave her stranded in the middle of nowhere.

She had no choice but to pull in.

Keira drew up behind the Land Rover and sat for a few moments before getting out. A quick glance as she lifted the nozzle of the pump and placed it in the filler cap told her that the Evoque was empty. She peered through the window of the small shop, but – apart from the guy serving behind the counter – it appeared to be empty too.

Keira decided not to fill the tank to the top. Instead, she put in more than enough to get her to Scaur, then went inside to pay.

A small overhead bell chimed as she pushed through the door and into the shop.

‘Fine weather,’ said the guy behind the counter with a half-smile as Keira handed him her card. ‘Got my trunks on underneath, in case I need to swim home.’

Keira tried to smile back, but she wanted to pay and get out of there as fast as possible.

‘Where’d the guy in the Land Rover go?’

The man behind the counter looked confused. ‘Using the toilet, but it’s not a man, it’s a woman.’

‘A woman?’ It was Keira’s turn to look confused. ‘Really?’

‘Aye. On her way to Castle Douglas, thought she was lost for a minute, so popped in here to use the toilet and get some directions.’ He handed Keira back her card.

‘Where you heading yourself?’

‘Scaur.’

‘Scaur! There’s not many people call it that these days. Are you a local?’

‘No,’ replied Keira as she made her way to the exit. ‘I’m trying to keep it a secret from the rest of the world, so I call it by its old name.’

‘Aye, good on ye! Don’t want the likes of Trump spoiling this part of the coastline as well. Safe home!’

Keira climbed back into her car and fired the engine. She briefly considered waiting to see what the woman in the toilet looked like – maybe even give her a mouthful about driving up people’s arses – but instead she slipped the BMW into gear and drove off.

She lit the second of her three roll-ups and realized she’d forgotten to check how much damage the drystone wall had done.