None but the Dead (38 page)

‘Go right ahead, Professor.’

The others had gone, taking Derek Muir with them.

Hege had brought them both coffee and now sat opposite, her cup untouched. Magnus had introduced himself, although he was pretty sure she knew exactly who he was.

‘DS McNab said that you and Joe Millar formed a friendship during the few days his fishing boat was in the harbour. Are you willing to talk about that with me?’

‘I’ve told DS McNab everything I know,’ she said.

‘Maybe not everything.’ Magnus paused and looked at her steadily. ‘It’s important for us to understand what drove Millar to take his daughter, and what he intended doing
with her if he was successful. If we can understand his motives, we may be able to gauge what he’ll do when confronted by the police.’

She looked frightened by that prospect. ‘You think he’ll hurt Inga?’

‘I honestly don’t know, but if I could learn a little more about his frame of mind in the hours leading up to the abduction, that might help,’ Magnus told her.

She thought about what he’d said, her hands twitching in her lap, her mouth moving as though she was biting her inner cheek.

‘Okay,’ she said.

‘Let’s start at the very beginning, when you met Joe.’ Magnus purposefully used Millar’s first name, trying to emphasize the normality of two people meeting up in a
casual way. After all, Hege Aater had done nothing wrong.

‘He came into the bar. I was helping Tor that night and we got chatting. He told me he’d come off the
Lucinda
. That she had a little engine trouble and would be in the harbour
for two or three days. He had a nice smile and he made me laugh.’ She halted.

Magnus let her take her time, and didn’t urge her to continue.

Eventually she did. ‘He stayed until closing time. Didn’t drink much. Just chatted to me at the bar. Even helped me collect the glasses. Tor needed away sharp, so I said I would lock
up. Joe offered to walk me home. The wind was up that night. He said he’d stop me from blowing away.’ She gave a half-smile in memory before continuing.

‘We got soaked between the hotel and my place. It seemed mean not to ask him in until the squall passed.’

Magnus realized she had begun excusing her actions.

‘You did nothing wrong,’ he said to reassure her.

She nodded, only half believing him.

‘We had a nightcap. Whisky. He kissed me. I kissed him back. We went to bed.’ She looked directly at Magnus. ‘He was gentle and considerate. It was good.’

Magnus nodded at her to continue.

‘It was the same next day. We talked about Norway. He knew some words in Norwegian, although his accent was terrible. He went to check on the boat, then we spent the evening together
again. He got to chatting to the locals. They seemed to like him. He wasn’t pushy. Just interested. Then someone mentioned he’d heard that Mike Jones was on the sex offenders list
because of one of his pupils, who’d killed herself. Everyone was shocked about that. Shocked and angry that he’d come to live on Sanday.’

‘And Joe?’

‘He was the same. Most men are when they think about paedophiles.’

‘What happened then?’

‘Mike Jones walked in, large as life. The place went quiet. It was horrible. The look on Joe’s face. Even Tor didn’t want Jones there. He wouldn’t have served him. They
were intent on freezing him out until Dr MacLeod intervened and ordered a drink for him. DS McNab came over to back her up.’ She swallowed and cleared her throat.

‘I thought there would be a fight, the way he and Joe looked at one another.’ She paused. ‘The relief in the place when Ivan arrived. But it didn’t end there. After they
all left, except the detective, someone mentioned the children who lived up near the schoolhouse. Nele Skea, Lachlan Dunlop, his wee cousin Robert, and Inga Sinclair.’

‘What happened then?’

‘Joe asked about Inga and her mother.’ She stared into the middle distance. ‘He didn’t say why, but I knew something was wrong.’

‘When did he tell you?’

‘When we went back to my place. He said he thought Inga might be his daughter and that her mother had left him for another man, and taken his child. He asked about Inga. I told him what
she looked like. That she was bright and clever and spent a lot of time at the museum with Sam Flett.’ She paused. ‘He asked me a lot about Sam too. Where he lived. What he was like. I
thought learning about Mike Jones had spooked him.’

‘Did he mention wanting to see Inga?’

‘I asked him about that. He said it wasn’t a good idea, and now he knew she was okay, he’d sleep easier. I suggested that maybe he could patch it up with her mother. He said
no, that wouldn’t work, not after what she’d done to him. He seemed sad,’ she added.

‘So you didn’t think he’d try to see Inga?’

‘He changed the subject. Started talking about us, making jokes. Mentioned the boat he had at home. Asked if I had access to one here. That’s when I mentioned the one next
door.’ She looked uncomfortable. ‘I had no idea he would do what he did.’

Her face grew pale, her eyes suddenly blazing with a memory she didn’t welcome.

‘What is it?’ Magnus said.

‘He carries a knife. A bone-handled fisherman’s blade with a spike. The type that folds back into the handle. It’s very old. He showed it to me when I was talking about my
father being a fisherman.’ She looked frantic with fear now. ‘He won’t hurt her, will he?’

Heading south from the community centre, they were soon on the long narrow strip that ended eventually at Loth on the southern tip of Sanday.

Passing Bea Loch on their left, two disused quarries were visible on the northern side of the road, testament to the underlying sandstone. At the crossroads near Hobbister, Rhona and McNab
parted company with the others, the plan being that they should split into two teams. Erling and his men would head for the campsite at Ayre and begin their search at Taing of the Pund, making
their way south.

Rhona, McNab and Ivan would continue on the road as far as Scuthi Head, then work north from there. Erling determined the fate of the Ranger by taking him with his group.

McNab was driving. Ensconced in the back of their vehicle, Ivan gave them a running commentary which, Rhona noted, was setting McNab’s teeth on edge.

‘That’s Backaskaill Bay.’ He pointed to a wide golden expanse of beach on their left. ‘There are caves and inlets down there too,’ he informed them brightly.
‘Doun Helzie for one, and more at the tip of the peninsula.’

‘Fuck’s sake,’ McNab muttered loudly.

Rhona turned and gave PC Tulloch a friendly warning look, which he attempted, against his better nature, to take heed of.

Minutes later, he called on McNab to slow down and take a right at the next farm sign. They turned into a track that headed towards the coast, bouncing their way along until a surface suitable
for the vehicle gave out.

‘Now we walk, sir.’

The wind was coming directly from the west into their faces. Above them the sky was full of scurrying clouds, all headed east as though fleeing an impending storm.

As Ivan led the way, Rhona walked alongside McNab. They were both dressed for the weather and the terrain, but regardless of how well prepared they were, McNab might as well have been deposited
on the moon, he looked, and obviously felt, so completely out of place here.

Reaching the edge, they looked down on the sea, slate grey, in ridges, the watery equivalent of the folded rocks below.

Now McNab did swear, and loud enough for the heavens to hear.

‘How the fuck do we find anything down there?’

Ivan beckoned him on. ‘If the boat’s here, it’ll be tucked in a hidden bay, under an arch or a cave.’

‘And how do we know where the caves are?’

‘You’ve got me with you, sir.’

The first bay at Balfour’s Geo proved empty, apart from some seals on the rocks nearby being showered by the larger waves. Avoiding the wild Scuthi Head itself, Ivan led them north-east,
crossing inland, but keeping as close to the shoreline as possible. The bay at Whitefield Geo was empty too, the caves there not suitable for giving refuge to anything larger than a seal or
two.

In the meantime, the scurrying cloud had thickened, its colour deepening to ashen grey. Losing the intermittent shafts of light that had played on them up to now had lessened the visibility.
Grey rocks, grey sea and grey sky, all now merged together.

They were nearing an area Ivan called the Wheems. Rocky islands dotted the surface of the sea, frothy waves tumbling over them. Rhona looked out, wondering if it was her imagination or was the
sea getting rougher? The wind was the same, whipping strands of hair from under the hood of her cagoule, to lodge in her eyes or fasten themselves to the side of her mouth.

McNab hadn’t donned his own hood. His hair was soaked, as was his face, water glistening on his bristled chin. Only PC Tulloch’s red-cheeked face looked fit for the weather.

Now they were entering the area on the map that Rhona had held out the most hope for.

After the Wheems lay a series of deep sheltered bays. Glancing northwards, she sought some indication of the other half of their party, but in the now-poor visibility, could make out nothing
other than flat fields, a few scattered farm buildings and the usual herd of cattle.

Both South and North Feas were empty apart from a small upturned boat, much the worse for wear, on the pebbly shore.

McNab, walking alongside her, was mumbling something. Peppered with curses, it sounded like the specifications of the missing
Antares
.

‘What are you muttering?’

‘The water tank is twenty litres capacity. The fuel tank holds 135 litres. We don’t know what was in them when he left. Even if he’s settled in one place, with both of them on
board, he’ll need to replenish the water at least.’

‘So?’

‘According to the map, the next section has fresh water run-off and a waterfall.’

It was a good point.

Ivan had come to a halt, his high-visibility jacket defying the weather and the light’s endeavour to hide him. Water streamed down his face and dripped from his nose and chin. He seemed
impervious to it.

‘Okay, we’re nearing the spot Derek indicated.’ He started to strip off the bright jacket. ‘If he is hidden down here, it might be better not to forewarn him of a police
presence.’

‘You’ll get soaked,’ Rhona protested.

‘I’m soaked already.’ Underneath he had a plain black jacket, much like theirs. He dropped the hi-vis jacket on the ground. ‘Okay, let’s go.’

Even through the swirling wind and rain, the spectacular nature of the coastline was obvious. Below her, centuries of pounding seas had dug deeply into the land to create intricate natural
arches, hidden coves and, no doubt, caves, some tidal, others deeper and perhaps dry.

Rhona looked towards the horizon, hoping for a sighting of the police launch or the coastguard, knowing the visibility out there had grown so poor that there was little chance, unless any craft
were close to shore.

‘Right.’ Ivan stood beside what appeared to be a sheer drop. ‘We head down here,’ he said, then disappeared into the rain.

McNab, obviously perturbed by his sudden disappearance, called out to him to wait, then, urging Rhona to go first, followed her. Used to following the hi-vis jacket, Rhona had to focus hard on
Ivan’s back as he wove his way down what could loosely be described as a path, except where he suddenly crossed slabs of rock. The rain met them in sheets, blinding Rhona until she had to
stop and wipe her eyes.

Halfway down Ivan came to a halt, so suddenly, she almost knocked into him.

‘What is it?’ McNab’s voice came from behind her.

Ivan suddenly dropped to his knees, gesturing at Rhona to do the same. ‘There’s something down there.’ He pointed below.

Rhona followed his hand. Through the sheeting rain, she saw something white against the grey sea and rocks.

‘That’s got to be him,’ McNab hissed from behind.

There was a boat there. Tucked in behind an arch, yards from the shore, rocking madly as a series of waves swept through the arch to break against the shingle.

McNab eased closer. ‘Can we get down there without being spotted?’

Ivan was silent at the question, although Rhona could almost hear him ponder his answer.

‘We’ll edge further round, climb down on the other side and come under the arch.’

‘Through the water?’ McNab said in disbelief.

‘The tide’s not full in, so it won’t be too deep.’

Rhona got the impression that McNab’s estimation of Ivan was rising. Either that or he thought his constable had lost his wits. It seemed to her that both scenarios played out on his
rain-drenched face. Finally he nodded an okay.

Keeping low, Ivan moved across, rather than down, leading them past the arch and the hidden beach. As soon as he deemed them out of sight, he straightened up.

‘The next bit’s tricky,’ he said, as though it had been easy walking until now.

As they began the descent into what looked like frothing madness below, Rhona caught the sound, not of the sea, but of swift running water.

‘The waterfall,’ McNab said.

They came upon it seconds later, dropping down the cliff face in a long white plume to carve its way through the stony beach below, then disgorge itself into the sea.

His water supply.

Now they were slithering down, as any soil that gripped to the rocks became mud under the onslaught of rain. Hood up, ears enclosed, Rhona did not, at first, hear her mobile. The vibration
against her body finally alerted her.

She stopped suddenly, causing McNab to collide with her back, nearly knocking her over. She pulled the zip down far enough to get a wet slippery hand inside. Throwing off her hood, she stuck the
mobile to her ear.

It was Magnus asking if they’d had any luck. When Rhona told him they’d located the boat, he said, ‘Hege says he has a flick knife. A fisherman’s special with a second
blade shaped like a needle. She’s frightened he might use it if cornered.’

The signal died before Rhona could respond or even contemplate trying to contact Erling, and no amount of waving the mobile about in front of her brought the missing dots back.