Life For a Life (35 page)

Once freed, all Gilchrist had wanted to do was get off that chair.

Mhairi glanced at the corner of the steading, and Gilchrist did likewise. ‘I’ve called for backup,’ she said. ‘And an ambulance. They should be here any time.’

Robert was on his knees in the snow, stroking his mother’s hair. Jessie’s face was as white as her surroundings. When she saw Gilchrist and Mhairi, she could not resist quipping, ‘The pair of you look like you’re going out on a date.’

‘I wish,’ Mhairi said.

Gilchrist jerked his arm. ‘Why’s Jessie sitting in the snow?’

‘She’s been shot, sir.’

Gilchrist blinked, wondered what he was missing. His mind was not functioning the way it should, and he was struggling to make his memory work. ‘Shot?’ he said. ‘Where?’

‘In the shoulder. Looks worse than it is.’

‘Take me to her.’

‘The snow’s deep.’

‘And your point is . . . ?’

Gilchrist shuffled his feet, tried to turn round, when he heard the distant sound of sirens. And a memory came back to him then, of a man with a knife. ‘Kumar,’ he said.

‘He’s handcuffed.’

‘Where?’

‘Behind the barn, sir.’

‘Right.’ He was sure he was missing something but could not say what. But rather than continue to ask questions and receive answers that failed him, he thought it best to keep quiet.

‘You’re shivering, sir.’ Mhairi helped turn him round. ‘We should go back into the steading,’ she insisted. ‘It’s sheltered, and warmer.’

‘But not that chair,’ he said, relieved he at least remembered that.

The sirens were closer now, and Gilchrist caught the blue flashes of a line of police cars – a convoy, it looked like – racing at speed towards the smallholding.

He blinked, at least he thought that was all he did, and was surprised to find himself inside the steading on his back on the floor, with a paramedic checking his heartbeat. Other parts of his memory seemed to have evaporated too, as if he was watching them on an old film reel that stopped and started out of sequence—

‘Close your left eye,’ the paramedic said.

Gilchrist did as he was told.

‘No, your left eye.’

‘Right,’ he said, and got it that time, only to have his eye blinded by a pencil torch and irritated by a pair of fingers that pulled at the eyelids.

‘Follow my finger.’

Gilchrist did but seemed not to impress the paramedic.

‘We’ll take him to Ninewells for observation,’ the paramedic said to a tall man with blond hair, who appeared beside them, as if from nowhere.

Had he passed out again?

Against the black overcoat with its upturned collar, the man’s face looked as pale as the snow. Even from where he was, Gilchrist could tell the man’s crown was thinning. Then his memory returned as Stan peered down at him.

‘Help me up, Stan. There’s a good lad.’

‘No can do, boss. You look too peely-wally to be on your feet.’

‘You sure you’re not looking in a mirror?’

Stan grinned, and leaned closer. ‘His full name is Kumar al Baradi, per his British driving licence. But that’s likely an alias. He also has driving licences in the names of Kumar Bretford, Kumar Blumenthal, and Kumar Brukowski.’

Gilchrist noted all first names Kumar, and surnames beginning with the letter B. Did that mean anything? Or did it just make it easier to remember if you lived under permanent deception? But just the mention of the case was doing wonders for his memory. Faces flickered before him, and he felt his heart slump at the recollection of Bill and Eilidh—

‘I’m sure we’ll find other aliases when we look through his home,’ Stan said.

‘You know where he lives?’

‘His mobile phone. It’s a gold mine. Addresses, bank accounts, phone numbers . . .’

When Stan said nothing more but just looked down at him, Gilchrist said, ‘What have I missed?’

‘Phone numbers?’

‘What about them?’

‘Your number is in Kumar’s mobile.’

‘Why?’ Gilchrist shook his head. ‘I don’t remember talking to him.’ Had he? Or was his memory still failing him?

Stan shrugged. ‘Our technicians will try to recover data.’

An image flashed into Gilchrist’s mind of Kumar tearing open a bag. ‘There was another body,’ he said. ‘Over by the wall.’

Stan nodded. ‘Craig Farmer. Shot through the back of the head.’ Stan paused, then said, ‘We also recovered Farmer’s mobile and SIM card. Your number’s on there, too.’

Gilchrist had a vague recollection of something at Crail harbour but could not pull it up. ‘The gun,’ he said. ‘I think it’s Farmer’s.’

‘Why?’

Gilchrist dabbed the side of his head, at a lump above and in front of his ear. His hair felt clotted, and when he looked at his hand, he was surprised to see blood. ‘I don’t know,’ he said to Stan. Then he closed his eyes, and opened them again, and waited until his world steadied. ‘I tell you, Stan, I don’t know how anyone can function on drugs.’

‘They don’t. That’s the point.’ Stan turned his head at the sound of a woman’s voice, then said, ‘Catch you later, boss.’

The stop-start film reel kicked in again, and when he next blinked Dr Cooper was by his side, holding his hand, squeezing his fingers. ‘How’s my boy,’ she said.

Gilchrist surprised himself by squeezing back. Maybe it was the word
boy
or the sight of a woman which fired his brain, but some part of his memory surged back to him.

‘Where’s Jessie?’ he asked. ‘And Robert?’

‘Jessie’s being transported to Ninewells. She’s lost a lot of blood but all her signs are stable. They’ll probably keep her in for a few days.’ Cooper smiled down at him, then turned to the side as a pair of paramedics pushed a gurney alongside and fiddled with the settings.

‘Whoah,’ said Gilchrist.

‘We have the ambulance outside,’ one of the paramedics said.

‘I’ll walk,’ he said, and pulled on Cooper’s hand. ‘Help me up.’

‘Are you sure about this?’

‘Definitely. I don’t like being horizontal.’

‘Pity,’ Cooper said. ‘I like you horizontal.’

Gilchrist frowned, not seeing the joke, and wondering if there even was one.

Cooper helped him to his feet and steadied him by placing her arm through his.

‘I could get used to this,’ she said.

Through the open steading door, the place thrived. Radio static crackled. An engine revved. Lights flashed. Voices mumbled. Bodies shuffled past. Busier than Market Street at the Lammas Fair, he thought.

As Cooper helped him into the ambulance, she said, ‘Mr Cooper called this morning.’

Mr Cooper
rang a bell, brought back memories. ‘Called?’ he said.

‘He’s leaving me.’

‘I’m sorry to hear that.’

‘I was hoping that might please you.’

He looked at her and smiled, and a memory of golden hair slipping through his fingers, tumbling over his face, flashed into his mind. ‘I think it does,’ he said to her.

She placed her hand by her ear. ‘I’ll give you a call.’

Gilchrist had time only to nod before the door closed.

She was asleep when Gilchrist arrived.

He tried not to waken her, give her a few more minutes of rest, but she opened her eyes as he was removing the cardboard wrapping.

‘For me?’ she said.

‘Thought I’d bring them in to brighten up your day.’

She tilted her head, lifted her chin. ‘Let me smell.’

He held the flowerpot out to her.

She closed her eyes as she inhaled. ‘How did you know I love hyacinths? Did Robert text you?’

Gilchrist shook his head. ‘My daughter loves them too,’ he said. ‘Their fragrance always reminds me of New Year.’

‘Is Robert OK?’ she asked.

‘He’ll be in later with Angie.’

Jessie slumped back into the pillow. ‘He’s too young to see what he saw. I hope he won’t be haunted.’

‘Kids are more resilient than we give them credit for.’ He returned her look. ‘It’s you I’m worried about.’

‘Me? I’ll be on my feet in a day or so. Don’t know why they won’t let me out.’

‘You’ve been shot.’

‘In my shoulder. Not my foot.’

Gilchrist pulled the conversation back on track with, ‘Do you remember saying you wanted to leave?’

Jessie frowned. ‘Leave what?’

‘The job. St Andrews. Scotland. You never spelled it out.’ He tried to give her a smile of reassurance but her eyes danced with his, as if she was preparing to challenge him. ‘You were doped up,’ he explained, ‘but even so, it’s your subconscious releasing these thoughts.’

Jessie pursed her lips, stared at some point high up on the wall. Tears squeezed from her eyes. She sniffed, wiped a hand across her cheeks.

He waited a polite five seconds, then said, ‘You can’t keep running away.’

‘I will, if it keeps that heathen bitch from Robert.’

‘I spoke to Dainty,’ Gilchrist said. ‘He thinks highly of you.’ He thought she looked vulnerable as she stared up at him, as if he was seeing what she looked like as a young girl. ‘Dainty pulled in your brothers, Tommy and Terry, told them that if they concocted a story about you taking stolen goods, he would charge them both—’

‘Even if it’s true?’

‘It’s not true.’ He held up his hand. ‘No buts. That’s it.’ He thought it odd that she felt such a need to be punished for having broken the law, and he wondered if it had something to do with her recognition of her criminal heritage, or a desire to remove all trace of it from her family tree. ‘I understand now why you asked for a transfer,’ he said.

‘To keep Robert away from my bitch-for-a-mother and my mental brothers,’ she said.

‘Mostly,’ he agreed, then after a couple of beats, said, ‘But more significantly, you want to keep the identity of your mother’s father from him.’

Jessie stilled, as if her heart had stopped. Then she glared at him. ‘Who told you?’

‘I read it in your mother’s police report.’

She whispered a curse, then said, ‘It just follows me.’

‘It’ll go no further.’

She shook her head. ‘And I don’t even know if it’s true, or just something that bitch dreamed up.’ Her look of disappointment held for a long moment, then shifted to panic. ‘You can’t tell anyone,’ she said to him. ‘You can’t tell Robert—’

‘No one will know.’

She stared at him, her eyes searching his. ‘Not even Stan?’

‘It’s between us,’ he said. ‘Just you and me.’ He waited until he felt she believed him, then tried to change the subject with, ‘I’ve spoken to Mhairi. She told me what happened, how you put two and two together and—’

‘Mhairi took Kumar down single-handedly,’ she said. ‘Don’t let her try to tell you different. She saved my life. And Robert’s, too.’

Gilchrist nodded. If not for Mhairi, Kumar could have bagged another few bodies, his own included. ‘But it was you who made the initial connection,’ he said, ‘then challenged Angus—’

‘And almost got us all killed.’

‘But you didn’t. And you saved my life too.’ He had seen the partial video recording of his execution-to-be, and watched with mesmerising horror how close he had come to being killed. ‘I haven’t thanked you for that,’ he added, removing an envelope from his pocket.

He held it out to her.

‘What’s that?’

‘It’s for you.’

‘I asked what it was, not who it was for.’

‘It’s a pity that bullet never nipped a bit of your tongue.’

She shook her head. ‘Some habits die hard, I suppose. I’m sorry.’ She flinched as she shifted her elbow. ‘But this bloody shoulder still hurts.’

‘It’ll be sore for a while, so I’m told. But you’ll live.’

‘Regrettably, I hear you say?’

He shook his head. ‘You’ve made a bit of a name for yourself. And Stan is worried I’m going to ease him out for you.’

‘Musical partners, is that the way it works up here?’ She nodded to the envelope. ‘Are you going to tell me what it is?’

‘It’s your Non-Harassment Order,’ he said. ‘Extended to cover Fife.’

‘How did you . . . ?’

‘Go on. Take it,’ he said, and flapped the envelope at her.

She took it from him, nothing more than a handwritten note on sheriff ’s letterhead, a single piece of paper that looked at odds with its legal potency.

‘I got them to widen the scope, too,’ Gilchrist said. ‘No doubt your mother will try to challenge it in court, but with her record, she has next to no hope of having it overturned.’

‘The bitch’ll breach it.’

‘Then the bitch will go to jail.’

‘Here, what’s this?’ Jessie said, and removed a voucher. ‘The Doll’s House?’

‘One of my favourite restaurants.’

‘It’s for a hundred quid.’ She looked up at him.

‘Happy Christmas,’ he said. ‘It’s the least I can do.’

‘How about putting me forward for a salary upgrade, then?’

‘Already have. Of course, CS Greaves is as tight as they come but once he takes the credit for bringing Kumar to justice, his purse strings will loosen up a bit.’

She stared at his neck, scrunched her eyes to focus, and said, ‘Is that a dressing?’

Gilchrist tapped a finger to his neck, to the cut where Kumar’s blade had pressed too hard. No sutures required, but it had bled heavily, and still stung. ‘Had a close shave with a carving knife,’ he said.

‘Jesus,’ Jessie said, as if realising the seriousness of it all for the first time. ‘I thought we were too late.’

‘You almost were.’

She gave that comment some thought, then said, ‘What about Angus?’

‘It’s not looking good. He’s been charged as an accessory, and Mhairi has contacted Patterson and McLeod’s head office. They’re thinking of taking legal action against him for fraud. She’s also dropped him in it with the taxman.’

‘Ouch. Remind me never to get on that woman’s bad side. So, she’s not getting back with him, is what you’re telling me?’

‘She’s well shot of him,’ Gilchrist confirmed. ‘And Mhairi spoke highly of you.’

‘I didn’t do anything.’

‘Modesty doesn’t suit you.’ He turned as the door opened.

Robert walked in, and hesitated for a moment when he saw Gilchrist, or perhaps at the look of panic on his mother’s face. But Gilchrist smiled at Jessie, and winked at her, and Robert stepped round him and leaned down to his mum in bed, to give her a hug.