Electric Light (Blair Dubh Trilogy #3) (20 page)

She was jolted from her thoughts by one of the police officers toppling to the ground. Freya and the second officer looked at him in surprise, thinking he must have tripped over something, but he was sprawled facedown in the leaves, unmoving.

Movement caught Freya’s eye and she saw a red dot dancing about on the face of the second officer. Before she could utter a warning his head jerked back, the spray of blood horrifyingly clear through the night vision goggles as it arced out of the back of his head.

“Oh my God,” said Freya. She opened her mouth to scream for the other two officers but her voice was snatched from her throat when she saw the little red dot hovering over her heart. Her thoughts immediately flew out of the wood, away from this nightmare to her husband and son, the pain and anger that she’d never see them again devastating. It couldn’t end this way, not after everything she’d survived in this village.

She could see the outline of the sniper now, crouched behind some thick bushes, staring at her down the scope of the rifle, which looked enormous.

“You killed them,” she whispered, shaking.

The dark figure hesitated, lifting his head from the scope. “Freya?”

“Y…yes,” she stammered, hating how afraid she sounded. Her counselling training kicked in and her instinct was to start up a dialogue now the sniper had given her an opening. “Graeme?”

He got up and moved silently over the forest floor, the gun still fixed on her. “How did you know it’s me?”

“The police told me.”

“How do they know?”

“They didn’t say,” she lied, not wanting to drop Craig in it. “Your gun’s on me Graeme.”

He huffed out a breath. Despite what she’d said he just knew Craig fucking Donaldson was responsible. “Why did you come Freya?” he said, not lowering the weapon.

“I had to, for Craig and Nora.”

He released an audible groan and let the gun rest at his side.

“Please, can you tell me,” she said, gaining courage now the weapon had been lowered. “Are they still alive?” Freya held her breath, terrified of the answer.

“Yes.”

She released a loud gasp and her knees buckled. Only now did she realise what a burden she’d been carrying, the weight of uncertainty had been crushing her. “Thank God,” she murmured, attempting to catch her breath.

“Why couldn’t you just have stayed away?” said Graeme, verging on panic. Once again his plan was going wrong, only this time he didn’t have a contingency. Freya turning up here had completely thrown him and he didn’t know how to handle the situation. The only person in the world he could connect with knew what he was doing, she could stop his great work if she so chose, but he didn’t want to kill her. Perhaps he could reason with her, make her see sense? After what she’d been through there was a possibility she might understand. It was the only way he could think of that didn’t end in her death. That was the last thing he wanted.

“How far does the police cordon stretch?” he asked her.

“Right around the village, including the woods.”

“Shit,” he said. Still, it wasn’t anything he hadn’t expected. He started to pace back and forth in front of her, muttering to himself as the sense of being trapped once again swept over him. If he was going to escape he needed leverage.

Freya gasped when he brought the gun back up to his shoulder, that red dot once again trained over her heart and she was convinced she was dead.

“Move,” he told her in a hard voice.

“Excuse me?” she said, thinking she must have misheard, she’d been so sure he was going to shoot her.

“I said move.”

“But…,” she said, gesturing to the two police officers on the ground.

“You can’t help them now.”

The coldness in his voice chilled her to the bone. He didn’t care that he’d just murdered two people. She considered asking if he’d killed the other two but held her tongue. He might not even know they were here. Hopefully Thorne and his colleague could save her.

“On your feet,” he said. She was still knelt on the ground after her knees had gone out from under her.

Freya tried to push herself back up to standing but her legs felt like jelly.

“On your feet,” he repeated more urgently, aware the other two officers could come back at any minute, his distraction wouldn’t occupy them for long. He didn’t like killing police officers but he’d kill them too if he was forced to.

The threat of that red dot hovering over her chest spurred Freya on and she stood before him, arms wrapped tightly around herself, shaking. “Which way?” she replied in that same breathless voice. This was more terrifying than all of her previous encounters put together, Graeme more frightening than all the previous murderers who had been drawn to this village.

“North, towards the castle. Do it now before I change my mind. Wait,” he snapped as she started walking. “GPS tracker.”

She considered telling him she didn’t have one but thought lying would only make things worse. She delved into her jacket pocket and dumped it in his hand. He tossed it towards the two dead officers then raised the gun back to his face, staring at her down the sight. “Let’s go.”

To Freya’s chagrin he led her away from the direction Thorne and his colleague had gone and she realised Graeme must know they were here. They might even be dead already.

As they walked Graeme was careful to keep three steps behind her, just out of striking distance should she decide to be foolish and try and snatch the weapon off him. He didn’t think she would, Freya wasn’t stupid, but better to be safe than sorry. She was more than capable of putting up a fight.

As Freya was marched up the hill towards the dark hulk of the castle her mind frantically worked. How the hell could she extricate herself from this fucked-up situation? Two of her escorts were dead, the other two were God only knew where and she was at the mercy of a deranged murderer. On the bright side, as long as Graeme was with her he wasn’t near Craig or the others. They were safe. For now.

CHAPTER 21

Craig was desperately fighting the urge to throw Gary’s Airwave radio across the room, the stuttering, broken-up messages stretching his already taut nerves to the very limit. Steve similarly had no luck either and the frustration was working them both up into a frenzy. DCI Armstrong was trying to get a message through to them but the storm was still playing merry hell with the signal.

“I can’t hear you,” Craig bellowed at it in sheer frustration.

“Here, let me have a go,” said Bill, taking it out of his hands.

Craig relinquished it to him gladly, sighed and dragged his fingers through his hair, fingers tightening painfully at the scalp.

“It’s been quiet out there for a while,” said Jimmy. “Maybe Graeme’s finally been arrested?”

“If they had do you think they’d have left us in here?” said Craig.

“Maybe he’s gone and shot himself?” said Todd hopefully.

“I don’t think we’re that lucky,” interjected Lizzy miserably.

“Sarge, mine’s working again,” exclaimed Steve.

Armstrong’s booming voice burst into life and Craig snatched the radio out of Steve’s hands. “Sir, it’s DS Donaldson. I can hear you.”

“Thank Christ for that. We’ve got the whole village cordoned off, including the woods. TFU is on its way to you.”

“How?”

“Through the woods. Freya’s guiding them.”

“Oh my God,” gasped Nora, her hands flying to her mouth.

Craig stared at the radio in his hand as though it had come alive. “Freya, as in my wife?”

“She’s guiding the team in. I was dead against it myself but I was overruled.”

“What the fuck? Who the hell okayed that mad plan?” he yelled. It was insanity. Panic seized him. Maybe now they had an explanation as to why the sniper had been so quiet. “Sir, call your team. The sniper ran into the woods. He’s in there with them.”

“I can’t, they’ve put their radios on silent, they didn’t want to announce their arrival.”

Craig wished he could put his hands down the radio and throttle the idiot. “Are you telling me my wife is wandering about in the woods at night with a gunman running loose? Is that what you’re seriously saying?”

“Yes, I’m afraid it is.”

“Jesus Christ,” he roared, throwing the radio at Steve and running for the back door.

“Someone stop him,” called Nora.

Craig heard footsteps behind him but all he could think about was reaching Freya before she was shot. Arms wrapped themselves around his waist and he fell forwards, hitting the floor hard, the wind knocked out of him.

“Sorry Sarge but we can’t let you do this,” said Steve. “Will someone give me a hand?” he said when Craig struggled furiously.

Todd joined in and Craig felt more pressure put on his back and arms, keeping him down.

“Let me go you fucking idiots, I’ve got to get to Freya.”

“Calm down,” said Nora, hobbling towards him on her crutches. “Just think. You go out that door and you could get shot. That’s what he’s waiting for.”

“He’s not here, he’s gone after her. She could be dead already,” he yelled into the floor, the fear bringing tears to his eyes.

“You heard Armstrong, she’s with a team of armed police, all those guns against one, she’s well protected,” said Steve, always the voice of reason. “The sniper won’t even know she’s coming but if you run out there in a panic you’re going to lead him straight to her.”

They were all relieved when Craig stopped struggling. “I didn’t think of that.”

“Obviously. Now calm down before you get yourself and others killed.”

Craig sighed heavily into the floorboards. “Alright, I’m calm.” They released him and he sat up, looking sheepish. “Sorry.”

“It’s alright, any one of us would have reacted the same if it had been our wives,” said Bill. “That eejit shouldn’t have told you. Let’s just sit tight and wait for the cavalry to arrive.”

Craig remained where he was on the floor. “Why the fuck did they let her in here?”

“They must think there’s no other way,” said Jimmy. “They’re desperate. No offence to Freya, I think she’s amazingly brave.”

“She is,” said Craig. “But it means everything they’ve tried hasn’t worked. Pass us the radio will you Steve? I want to speak to that wanker Armstrong again.”

He nodded and got up to fetch the radio. The others, thinking Craig was perfectly calm, relaxed. Just as the atmosphere became composed again Craig grabbed one of the shotguns and the night vision goggles and raced into the back room.

“Oh not again, stop him,” he heard Bill yell.

But this time Craig reached the door dividing the two sections of the pub, slammed it shut and jammed a chair under the handle so they couldn’t follow. Then he rushed for the rear door, flung it open and pelted down the street, zigzagging just in case the sniper was watching, but he knew he wasn’t. Graeme was in the woods with Freya.

Craig knew exactly what she’d thought - the woods were vast, there was no way every part of them could be monitored but she’d forgotten there were only so many routes through them because of all the pitfalls. Guaranteed Graeme would have every one of those routes monitored so when Freya came in with the armed response team he would have been waiting for her.

Putting his head down he ran even harder, muscles burning. He had to get there in time, he just had to.

“Graeme, why are you doing this?” said Freya as they walked. The castle was right over their heads now, bearing down on them, its silhouette dark against the flickering sky and she felt sick. At least he’d allowed her to keep the night vision goggles on so she could see where she was going.

“It’s my work Freya.”

She wanted to call him names, let him know how much he disgusted her but in his tone she detected a need to be understood, so she kept her opinion to herself. Now was a time for subtlety.

“I don’t understand,” she said as she continued to pick her way through the undergrowth, Graeme still maintaining exactly three paces behind her.

“My job is eradicating evil.”

Freya chanced a glance at him over her shoulder. “I still don’t understand.”

“Freya, you and I are more alike than you realise. I’ve gone through what you went through. My village was infiltrated by a minion of the devil who took the lives of nine of my friends and relatives. In his human guise he called himself Malcolm McDonald but he was Satan himself and he came into my home and shot my mother, father and sister. Before that he went next door and killed my best friend and his family and my grandparents. I only survived because I hid. Like you I was cast adrift, taken from my village and sent to live with relatives who never wanted me. For years I wondered why I’d been spared, it tortured me. It didn’t seem right.”

“Survivor’s guilt?”

“Yes, that was exactly what I was suffering from,” he smiled. Already she was understanding him. “Then I realised I’d been spared because I still had work to do and that was to stop what happened to me from happening to anyone else.”

Freya stopped in her tracks, struggling to take this on board. Graeme stopped too, eyes wide and expectant like a puppy hoping to get some praise from its master.

“But you’re doing to other people exactly what that man did to you,” she said, hoping her comment wouldn’t send him over the edge.

On the contrary, Graeme was relieved he finally had someone to discuss this with. “No, unlike him, who killed for pleasure, I am purifying this land. I was drawn here after what was done to you Freya. This village attracts evil - Martin Lynch, John Docherty, Father Logan - and it must be stopped at all costs.”

“Why kill the villagers? They’re innocent.”

“No one in this village is innocent, except you. It just goes to prove how pure you are that you can’t see it. They were born and raised here, they were infected with its foulness from birth and as they age that blackness in their hearts will only get stronger until it takes them over entirely. It might not feel like it but being sent away when you were eleven saved you, the darkness here didn’t have time to get its hooks into you.”

“The people here are good Graeme, they wouldn’t hurt anyone. All they want is to live out their lives in peace.” She wanted to knock the patronising smile right off his face, he looked like a teacher giving a pupil a valuable life lesson but it was vital she remained calm. It was all on her now, she must use this opportunity to try and talk him down. There was no option, she couldn’t go up against him physically. She’d seen him fight Craig and he’d almost got the better of him so she wouldn’t stand a chance. “They welcomed you into their homes, they treated you as one of their own,” she pressed.

“It’s all a front Freya. Better this way before they can do anyone any harm. You see, evil is like a cancer, it spreads and if you don’t remove the affected part then it will eat away at the entire body. That’s what I do, I remove the cancer.”

“This isn’t your first time?”

He was delighted she’d worked that one out. She understood, just like he’d known she would. “No it’s not. I started in the village where my first encounter with evil happened.”

“You…you killed them?”

“Not all of them, just seven. I went back when I was twenty six after my time in the army when I’d trained myself to become the warrior I needed to be.”

It was the worst thing she’d ever heard. He said it so casually and with such pride he could have been talking about the number of goals he’d scored in a football match.

“Oh God, oh my God,” she whispered, unable to control the rising terror. Hearing Graeme admit he was a mass murderer was the most chilling moment of her life.

“It’s okay, don’t panic,” he said, reaching out his hand, which she recoiled from. “I understand it’s a shock.”

“Shock?” she exclaimed, doubling over, fighting for breath. She wondered if she was on the verge of having a panic attack. It was something she’d seen many times in the course of her work but she’d never experienced one personally, no matter how bad things had got. But this situation was way beyond anything she’d encountered before. “How many villages have you done this to?” she said, managing to puff out each word between ragged, heaving breaths.

“This is the fifth.”

“Five,” she exclaimed. She didn’t understand. How had he got away with it for so long?

“After I’d cleansed my village I went abroad,” he said in response to her thoughts. “I did two in Alaska. You wouldn’t believe how remote the villages are out there. I just went in, did what I had to do then disappeared and no one even suspected me. I was a non-entity, a shadow that came and went. I travelled back through Europe and stayed at a rural French village for a few months before returning to Scotland.”

“You killed them too?” she said, voice choked with emotion.

“Not all of them, just some. They weren’t all bad, not like here. I left France and returned to Scotland and did a village in Aberdeenshire. Each time I set someone up, like I did Adam, and everyone thought the real killer had killed themselves, so I kept getting away with it. I was up north when I heard about what happened here with Martin Lynch and I just knew this was where I was meant to come. Blair Dubh required my undivided attention. At first I thought I’d made a mistake, that Martin Lynch was just an anomaly. Then I learnt about Father Logan and I thought I’d stick around, see what happened. John Docherty turning up just confirmed I was in the right place. Divine intervention meant I saw the news report that made me come here. And I met you.”

When he took a step closer she took one back, wanting to maintain as much distance between them as possible. His eager smile faltered.

“I was destined to meet you,” he added.

Freya thought he was a certifiable crazy person but she could use his lunacy to her advantage - empathise with him, get him onside then persuade him to end this madness. Her mind desperately hunted around for words, grasping at ephemeral fragments of thought that evaporated like ghosts.

Finally she managed to find one and cling onto it. “It’s hard going through something so traumatic, especially when you’re just a child,” she said sympathetically. “How old were you when it happened?”

Graeme was over the moon. This was what he’d been waiting for his entire life - a soul mate. “I’ll tell you everything but not here. We need to find shelter. There are still two armed officers wandering about somewhere and the storm’s returning.”

Despair got its claws into Freya. He knew Thorne was here and the storm returning could only mean the situation was going to get even more dangerous than it already was. Despite how amiable Graeme was being at the moment there was a good chance she wouldn’t be leaving Blair Dubh alive this time.

“After you,” he said, politely gesturing with one spindly white hand for her to take the lead.

All hope was crushed when she saw he was indicating for her to continue walking towards the castle, its great hulk bearing down on her. She’d almost died there once already.

“I can’t go up there, please,” she said.

“Why not?”

“Martin Lynch…he tried to…he…” She was choked by the memory of drowning in that stinking pit in the oubliette as though she’d been plunged into it all over again.