Electric Light (Blair Dubh Trilogy #3) (25 page)

“No,” he glowered.

Freya didn’t know what to do. Craig was firmly under the spell of something and she didn’t want to approach him.

“You see Freya, I was right,” said Graeme. “He’s part of it too, you all are. You should have let me finish the job here.”

“Craig, stop it,” said Freya, grabbing hold of his arm again when he pointed the rifle at Graeme’s head.

“Get off me,” he growled, shrugging her off.

She was knocked backwards and fell.

“Jesus, Freya, I’m so sorry,” he said, hurrying to her side.

“It’s not your fault,” she grimaced, sitting up, rubbing her bruised lower back.

“I don’t know what came over me.”

“I do. It’s this place,” she said as he helped her to her feet. She looked over his shoulder and her eyes widened. “Craig get down,” she yelled, simultaneously pushing him out of the way and raising the pistol. The roar of gunfire made her ears ring. Her first shot hit Graeme in the left calf and his leg crumpled. As he fell he dropped the second pistol he’d secreted in one of those huge pockets. She stood over him, the gun pointed at his face.

“Craig, are you okay? Craig?” she repeated when he didn’t reply.

She turned and saw him lying in the aisle in a pool of blood, not moving.

“No, Craig,” she screamed.

He groaned and rolled onto his side, a hand pressed to his stomach, the amount of blood soaking his shirt alarming.

“You fucking bastard, what have you done?” she yelled at Graeme.

“Finally I shot him properly. He needs medical help. Now,” said Graeme coolly, smiling with satisfaction. “A bullet to the gut is nasty, who knows what damage it’s done to his internal organs. Every second you delay brings him closer to death.

“Shut it.”

“You’re not going to kill me Freya.”

“I’m my father’s daughter, remember? You said I could do it.”

Graeme swallowed hard. “I was wrong.”

“Let’s put that to the test,” she said, eyes blazing bright green again. The whispers started up all around her and, although she couldn’t tell what they were saying, she was sure they were egging her on, urging her to kill him. She couldn’t think clearly because these whispers interfered with her thought processes, encouraging her to do something she would normally never consider.

“You said you could never kill because of the pain you’d inflict on a family,” said Graeme, realising he was the one talking for his life now.

“You have no family,” she said, her voice ice, finger tightening on the trigger.

“Put the gun down, put the gun down,” screamed voices, startling her. What remained of the armed response team raced down the aisle towards them, guns at the ready and trained on her, not on Graeme. How was that fair?

“Hold your fire,” Thorne called to his one surviving colleague. He stepped forward, his own gun pointing at the ground, even though he didn’t relinquish his hold on it. “Put the weapon down Freya. Let us take care of him now.”

“He shot Craig and he killed my friends.”

“I know sweetheart, he killed mine too so I understand how you feel, but he’ll go to prison for what he’s done. Don’t do this.”

“He has to die, he’s evil.”

“You’re right, he is, I’m not arguing with you there. But if you kill him you’ll get into trouble and Craig’s going to need you, it’s going to take him time to get better.”

Freya was desperate to go to her husband. His moans of pain assured her he still had some fight left. Now all she had to do was end this. “You don’t understand, I have to finish this or it’ll keep happening.”

“If you shoot him you’ll go to prison,” Thorne called to her. “This isn’t self defence. He’s done Freya. Let us take care of him now.”

Freya didn’t move, the gun still trained on Graeme. The whispers grew in crescendo, fogging her thoughts. Even Thorne and his colleague could hear them, their eyes darting nervously about the room.

She took a deep breath and raised the gun with renewed resolve.

“Freya, stop,” Thorne yelled, both he and his colleague raising their weapons.

She bit her lip, finger tightening on the trigger…

CHAPTER 26

“I can hear someone moving around outside,” said Todd.

Steve, who’d been camped by Gary’s side, hurried to the front door and pressed his ear to it to listen. “There’s voices, more than one.”

“No, don’t,” cried a horrified Bill when Steve hastily unlocked the door and flung it open.

“Are we glad to see you,” Steve said to the team of armed police, detectives and paramedics. “Don’t worry, the cavalry’s here,” he called over his shoulder. “Have you got Graeme?”

“Aye we do,” said Armstrong, stepping inside. “Jesus Christ,” he exclaimed when he saw the pile of bodies in the corner. “How many?”

“Five Sir. Four killed by the sniper, one died of a heart attack.”

“Get the paramedics in here now,” he called. “Not them,” he added when the four paramedics rushed to the pile of bodies. “Start with the ones who are still breathing.”

“You’ll be alright now Gary,” said Steve as two paramedics began tending to him.

He gave him a feeble smile. “You’re not getting rid of me that easily.”

“No I’m not because you’re going to be best man at my wedding.”

Gary managed to extend his smile. “Did you hear that?” he told one of the paramedics. “I’ve never been a best man before. Strippers,” he murmured.

“Out of my way, I have to get out of here,” cried Deborah, leaping up and shoving aside the police officers who were entering the building. “Fresh air, oh my God, thank you,” they heard her cry. Todd gave the room a sheepish look as he slunk outside after her.

“My son and daughter-in-law, Craig and Freya Donaldson,” said Nora, hobbling up to Armstrong. “Where are they?”

“They’re already on their way to hospital. Freya’s okay, apart from a few bruises and an injured knee, but I’m afraid Craig was shot in the stomach.”

“Is he alright?” she said, grateful when Lizzy came up beside her and took her hand.

“He needs surgery. I’ll get one of my officers to take you over there.”

“Thank you,” she replied, dazed.

“Is Graeme alive?” demanded Bill as a paramedic worked on his leg.

“He is.”

“Why didn’t you just shoot the bastard instead?”

“He did get shot. By Mrs Donaldson.”

“Freya?” said Nora. “How?”

“She managed to get the gun off him. I believe it’s only because she’s a bad shot that he’s still alive. Your daughter-in-law’s a remarkable woman.”

“I know,” said Nora proudly, horribly ashamed of the bad thoughts she’d harboured against her.

The residents stumbled out of the pub one by one, confused, hesitant, afraid this was all some sort of trick and the bullets were going to start flying again. The sun was just starting to come up, the sky rosy, air fresh, The storm had blown itself out, leaving the land revitalised.

They weren’t allowed to their cottages to retrieve anything, instead they were escorted to waiting patrol cars and ambulances to be checked out and have their statements taken. Nora sat in the back of one of the ambulances wrapped in a blanket while her ankle was rebandaged, realising how much she hated this village. Tents were being hastily erected further up the road, obscuring her view of the bodies lying in the middle of it.

If she ignored all the emergency services personnel and vehicles it was pretty much unchanged. The cottages, which had stood for hundreds of years, were just as they were, the water seethed against the sea wall, the castle and the church still dominated the landscape. But somehow everything was different. Now she could see the darkness that Freya had talked about so much, how the once pretty village was ominous and menacing. Her gaze travelled up to the graveyard and she thought how many of the dead had been put there by psychopaths who had come into their midst. Their ranks had certainly been swelled tonight and Nora’s hands started to shake when she realised how close she’d come to joining them. Tears filled her eyes. Her son still might yet.

“All done,” said the paramedic kindly. “Take a seat and we’ll run you into the hospital for a check-up.”

“That’s not necessary.”

“You’ve been through an ordeal, you might be suffering from delayed shock.”

“I’m fine,” she said impatiently. “There’s much worse off than me you need to be seeing to. DCI Armstrong said one of his officers would run me into hospital.”

“That’s alright then but make sure you get checked over, it’s better to be safe than sorry.”

“I will,” she said as he assisted her down from the ambulance, but she had no intention of doing so. All she wanted was to get to hospital and find out how her son was.

“Here’s your crutches,” said the paramedic, handing them to her.

But she ignored him as she watched a body - she had no idea who - being carried out of the pub, hidden in a black body bag. Everyone in the street went silent as they watched it being transported towards the waiting black mortuary van.

“It’s just horrible,” she murmured, knowing one of her friends was in that bag.

A female constable approached her, a pretty blond thing with a nice smile. “Mrs Donaldson?” she said.

Nora just nodded, her eyes riveted to the pub door as a second body was carted out.

“I’m PC Springer, I’ve to take you to hospital to see your son.”

Now she had her attention. “How is he?”

“All I know is that he’s been taken into surgery.”

“Then hurry, please,” she said, throwing off the blanket.

“This way,” said Springer kindly, leading her to a police car. Just before she got inside Lizzy came hurrying up to her, also wrapped in a blanket.

“I hope he’s okay,” she said, hugging her. “Keep us informed. Let me know if you need anything.”

“I will,” said Nora, already extricating herself from her.

Springer helped her into the back of the car. “Ready to go?” she said from the front.

“Yes please. Get me out of this cursed village.”

As the car made a u-turn Nora looked back at Lizzy and Jimmy, who were standing outside the pub watching her go. They looked so sad and tired it broke Nora’s heart. Life would never be the same again, for any of them.

She turned her attention from them and eagerly watched as they headed down the road leading out of the village. Silent tears streamed from her eyes at the relief. Only recently she’d thought she’d never leave this village again.

As they hit the main road Nora was astonished by the number of cars and onlookers.

“It’s a circus,” she commented.

“It’s drawn people from far and wide,” said Springer.

“Blair Dubh always does. Every time we have a calamity the vultures descend hoping for some juicy gossip. They’re going to love this,” she said bitterly, glaring at all the cameras and mobile phones that were raised, snapping photos of the car as it left.

Springer kindly put on the lights and siren so they got there quickly. Crosshouse Hospital just outside Kilmarnock was the nearest A&E department to Blair Dubh. Nora stepped out of the car and hurried inside, going as fast as she could on her crutches, the lights making her squint, Springer following.

Nora was too agitated to speak so Springer enquired at reception where they should go and they were directed to the surgical suites. She gritted her teeth against the pain in her ankle as she moved through the corridors feeling as though she was in a dream, staring at the people passing her by like they were aliens. Any elation she might have harboured about being among the living again was dampened by fear for her son. All she knew was that he’d been shot in the stomach and she had no idea how serious his condition was.

Nora rounded a corner and found Freya slumped in a wheelchair beside a row of gaudy bright orange plastic chairs. Her left knee was heavily bandaged and stuck rigidly out before her. She was wrapped in a white hospital gown and robe. The entire left side of her face was bruised and swollen, her eye almost shut. But it was the expression on her face that was more shocking than the damage. She was a woman defeated, entirely without hope and Nora’s stomach plummeted, terrified she was too late.

“Freya, how is he?” she said, rushing up to her and throwing her arms around her. When Freya didn’t hug her back Nora just put it down to shock.

“He’s in surgery,” she replied quietly.

“Will he make it?”

Freya shrugged, looking the essence of misery.

Nora sat beside her and took her hand. “And what about you?”

“Bruises, damaged knee. I’ll be fine.”

Nora was becoming concerned. Despite the trauma Freya had just endured and how worried she was for Craig, it still wasn’t normal. This was how she got when she was sinking into depression, when the urge for a drink was strong, an urge that would kill her if she gave into it. Too much damage had been done to her liver in the past by her alcohol abuse.

“There’s something else, isn’t there? Tell me sweetheart,” she said gently.

Nora was astonished by the ferocity in Freya’s green eyes, which glimmered eerily beneath the hospital lights.

“Why didn’t you tell me Logan was my real father?”

Shock turned Nora mute. Her mouth fell open and her jaw flapped uselessly.

“Don’t bother telling me you don’t know because apparently the whole village does.”

“I’m sorry, you’d been through so much. We all thought it for the best that you didn’t know.”

“Did Logan kill my dad?”

“We can’t know that for sure, but Pete thought he was responsible for sinking his boat. He could never prove it though so it went down as an accident.”

“I had a right to know. Who the hell do you think you are?”

“Freya…,” she said, attempting to take her hand.

“Don’t touch me,” she said, throwing her hand off.

“How did you find out?”

“Graeme.”

“How did he find out?”

“Joanie. Apparently you all had one of your famous meetings in the pub and you decided to keep me in the dark. What right did you have to make that decision?”

“We were only thinking of you, we were trying to protect you.”

“Then why didn’t you stop Social Services taking me from my home or bring Logan to account for his crimes when he was alive? You’re a hypocrite Nora, just like the rest of them.”

“Can we discuss this later? We’re here for Craig.”

“Yes we are but I want nothing to do with you.”

Exhausted physically and emotionally, Nora started to cry. She wasn’t ready for another fight. “Please, I need you. Craig’s going to need us both too.”

“I don’t need a traitor like you. Have you any idea what you’ve done?” she yelled.

Nora just stared back into her daughter-in-law’s angry face, not a clue what to say. She knew full well she was in the wrong but they’d all made a pact and she’d felt she couldn’t break it.

“I can’t even look at you Nora, I’m afraid of what I’ll do. Don’t forget, my father was a serial killer,” Freya spat at her before slowing rolling herself away down the corridor, her bruised hands protesting at the pressure put on them by the wheels.

Nora didn’t even try to go after her. Instead she sat back in the uncomfortable plastic seat for the duration, embarrassed when she realised PC Springer was standing a discreet distance away and had overheard everything.

She watched Freya disappear through a door at the bottom of the corridor into the Relatives’ Room and desperately wanted to go to her, she felt so alone. What if her son and only child died on the operating table and Freya refused to let her see Petie again? She’d have no one. Nora buried her face in her hands and started to cry at the damage Blair Dubh had wrought on her family.

She raised her head when she heard the rumble of something approaching and saw a trolley being rushed down the corridor by medical staff towards the doors of the surgical suites. When Nora realised it was Graeme she leapt up, ignoring her injured ankle, and proceeded to slap his bruised face.

“Please Madam, stop it,” said one of the doctors. “You can’t assault our patients.”

“This animal killed my friends and maybe my son and he’s destroyed my family,” she screamed, continuing to slap him. Graeme just groaned, barely conscious as his head was knocked from side to side.

“Mrs Donaldson, you can’t do that,” said Springer, taking her by the shoulders and steering her back to the chairs, leaving the medical staff free to wheel Graeme through the double doors.

“I suppose you’re going to arrest me for assault now, are you?” said Nora, glaring at her challengingly. “You may as well because if my son dies I’ll have nothing left on the outside anyway.”

Springer sat beside her and sighed. “I didn’t see anything, okay?”

“You’re not going to arrest me?” said Nora, surprised to realise she was disappointed. More drama would have taken her mind off her fears for the future, given her something else to focus on.

“I don’t think that’s necessary,” she said kindly. “My name’s Melanie by the way. Can I get you anything? How about a nice hot cup of tea?”

“Sounds lovely, thank you dear,” replied Nora, only half-listening.