The Elemental (Blair Dubh Trilogy #1) (15 page)

She looked so wretched he felt sorry for her. He sat beside her and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.
“You’re right, I don’t understand but if you ever feel the need for a late-night walk again you tell me and I’ll go with you. Understood?”

She nodded.
“Sorry.”

“
It’s okay. Just don’t do it again.”

“
I won’t.” She looked up at him. “Thanks for believing in me. Not many people have.”

“
That’s what friends are for.”

She smiled and grasped his hand.
“I could never kill anyone Craig. After what happened to my mum I couldn’t inflict that kind of grief on another family. Even when Docherty beat the shit out of me I was afraid to fight back too hard in case I accidentally killed him.”

“
You don’t need to justify yourself to me.”

“
Thank you.” She reached up to touch his face. “I never thought I’d feel safe around a police officer again but I do with you.”

“
We’re not all violent sadistic bastards.”

“
I know.”

She was still touching his face, her thumb running up and down the line of his jaw, her soft skin rasping against his dark stubble and he wondered if she was coming onto him. Deciding to take a chance, he turned his head to kiss the palm of her hand, his eyes never leaving hers, wondering if he was going to get slapped for his trouble. When she didn
’t object he took her hand in both of his, turned it over and kissed her wrist, letting his lips trail lightly across her palm and along her fingers to the tips of her black nails. He wondered what the hell he was doing, kissing a possible suspect/victim but he couldn’t help himself, she was really starting to get under his skin.

“
Do you remember we shared our first kiss in this room?” she said. She’d stayed here just after her mother died, too young to be left alone in her own home.

“
Oh aye, I remember. I was so nervous and I had no idea what to do with my hands.”

She hesitated before saying,
“I bet you do now.”

His eyes glimmered.
“I’ve never had any complaints.” He turned her hand over and kissed the top of it. “I’m glad you’re back.”

“
In a funny way I was, until history started repeating itself.”

He recalled Claire
’s charred remains and his libido deflated. Freya sensed this and they relinquished each other’s hands, the moment gone.

“
You should get some sleep,” she said.

He got to his feet.
“Well goodnight, what remains of it.”

“
Night Craig.”

“
And make sure you clean off those boots.”

“
I will.”

Unable to help himself he snuck one last glance at her exposed legs then left, thinking it was probably good that things hadn
’t gone any further between them.

Freya flung herself back on the bed, simultaneously relieved and disappointed. He was the first man she
’d really wanted since James.

Freya was a little ashamed of herself when she woke the next morning with butterflies in her stomach after two deaths, but she was excited about what had not quite happened with Craig the previous night. He’d given her such comfort that the shakes had gone, taking with them the urge to drink. Suddenly she didn’t feel quite so alone. She was surprised by how disappointed she was when he wasn’t downstairs.

“
Where’s Craig?” she asked Nora, who was bustling about in the kitchen.

“
He was up and away early this morning. He was on the phone to his DI and the Fiscal and I think they gave him a hard time. Poor boy, he’s doing his best. If that DI had arrived when she was supposed to he wouldn’t have been left SIO. Now he’s got to find a way of storing Claire’s body without destroying any evidence. I don’t envy him that task.”

Freya was relieved. At least he wasn
’t trying to avoid her. “Do you fancy going for a walk?”

Nora gestured to the window.
“In this?”

“
Just down the road to my cottage. I need more of my stuff.”

“
Okay. It’d be good to look at a different set of walls.”

They wrapped up tightly against the elements and in the fifteen seconds it took them to get down the street they were drenched. Fortunately their raincoats kept their clothes dry and they left their dripping jackets and boots in the porch and walked into the sitting room.

Freya froze. “Urgh. The dirty pigs.”

In the short time Gary and Steve had spent in her cottage they
’d managed to clutter the place up with dirty plates and mugs and - to her disgust - a pair of dirty socks were crumpled in the middle of the floor.

“
What’s that smell?” she demanded.

“
That is the smell of men living together without a female presence,” announced Nora.

“
I’ll be having a word with that pair. The letting agent would have a fit if he saw this.”

“
Why don’t you get what you need and I’ll have a tidy up?”

“
Thanks Nora,” she smiled gratefully.

While Freya ran upstairs, Nora collected up the dirty crockery and carried it through to the kitchen to wash up. As she plunged her hands into the hot soapy water, humming to herself, she caught sight of something at the window, a swirl of black. Pausing in her work she peered through the glass. When she saw nothing she just shrugged and continued washing up.

All the hairs on the back of her neck stood up when she sensed someone watching her. Looking back at the window she released a scream and staggered back, hands dripping suds.

There was the thunder of footsteps on the stairs and Freya appeared.
“What’s wrong?”

“
There was a face at the window.”

They both froze when they spied a shadow through the glass of the back door, which Freya knew was fortunately locked. It disappeared momentarily before reappearing, increasing in size as it grew nearer and nearer until it filled up the panel in the door, breath fogging up the frosted glass. There was a moment of silence during which they both held their breath, then a tremendous hammering started up on the door, shaking it in its frame.

Freya ran for the front door and locked it before pulling her mobile phone from her jeans pocket and dialling Craig’s number, praying she could get a signal. Stubbornly it refused to connect.

“
Bloody storm, I can’t get through to Craig,” she exclaimed.

“
Oh hell,” said Nora, not daring to take her eyes off the back door. The handle waggled up and down as the intruder attempted to open it. Freya grabbed one of the kitchen chairs and jammed it under the handle, so it couldn’t be moved. She faced the black shape through the frosted glass of the door, certain she could hear it breathing. Although she couldn’t make out any features it seemed to stare back at her. There was a swish of black and it disappeared from view. Nora and Freya clutched each other’s hands as it reappeared again behind the window overlooking the sink. One big fist slammed against the glass, making them both jump.

“
I’ll try Craig again,” Freya whispered, pressing the phone to her ear. “Thank God it’s ringing.”

“
Freya, I’m a bit busy.” His voice was faint, sounding as though he was a million miles away.

“
Craig,” she yelled into the phone. “Me and Nora are at my cottage and someone’s trying to get in.”

“
Who?”

“
Don’t know.”

“
On my…”

The line went dead and she prayed that last word was
way
. “Craig’s coming,” she told Nora.

“
Thank God for that. He’ll see them off.”

The figure suddenly ducked out of sight.

“Where’s he gone?” said Freya.

“
I don’t know.”

Anxiously they scanned each window, expecting to see a big black shadow reappear, but it seemed to have vanished.

They both squealed when the banging started up again on the back door with renewed force, every considerable blow causing it to jump in its frame.

“Go away,” Freya screamed.

The hammering stopped. Heart pounding, Freya reluctantly approached the window overlooking the small back yard, allowing her a view of the door.

“Freya,” whispered Nora.

“
It’s alright,” she whispered back.

Slowly she leant towards the window, her breath fogging up the glass. She leapt back and screamed when a black-clad figure appeared on the other side.

When Craig, Steve and Gary charged round the back of the house five minutes later and demanded to be let in Freya was curled up in a corner of the kitchen, hugging her knees to her chest and rocking back and forth, silent tears running down her face.

“
Are you alright Mum?” said Craig when she opened the door.

“
I’m fine but I don’t think she is,” she said, gesturing to Freya.

Craig raced to her side but she didn
’t seem to notice his presence, staring at something only she could see.

“
What happened?” he said, gently tapping Freya’s face to bring her round.

“
She looked out of the window and saw something, I don’t know what. Then she screamed and curled up there and she’s been like that ever since. She needs a reviver. I’ll get the whisky from my cottage.”

“
No alcohol,” said Craig firmly. “Freya, it’s Craig. What did you see?”

When she stared straight through him he slapped her face harder.
“Freya, can you hear me?”

Her eyes settled on him and when they focused on his fluorescent jacket she screamed again and scrambled away from him.

“Shit,” he said, pulling off the jacket and throwing it aside. “It’s me, Craig. You’re safe with me, remember?”

Unfortunately at that moment the door banged open and Gary and Steve burst in. At the sight of them Freya shot to her feet and ran for the front door. In her panic she forgot that she
’d locked it and frantically pulled at it, sobbing and shaking.

“
Take off your jackets you idiots,” Craig snarled at them and they hurried to obey, Nora watching the scene in amazement. “Freya calm down, it’s me,” he repeated.

She threw a glance over her shoulder and when she saw it was just her old friend she started to cry.
“I’m sorry.”

“
It’s alright,” he said, slowly approaching her, hands held out before him. When he went to her she collapsed into his arms. “Let’s get you back to Mum’s.”

She nodded into his chest, clinging onto him. They left Gary and Steve at the house to take a more detailed look around while Craig was forced to brave the storm without his jacket, consequently he was soaked to the skin by the time they made it back but he ignored his own discomfort to help Freya remove her boots and coat like she was a child.

“Here, get that down you,” said Nora, emerging from the kitchen with a glass of whisky.

“
Mum, I said no,” Craig told her.

“
Don’t be silly, it’ll steady her nerves.”

“
I’m a recovering alcoholic,” Freya said quietly, voice heavy with shame.

There was an awkward silence before Nora took the whisky back into the kitchen, deciding to knock back the contents herself. Then she hid the bottle in one of the cupboards.

“So you didn’t see anyone outside?” Nora asked Craig when she returned to the sitting room.

“
No. There were some scuff marks on the back door where it had been kicked but that was all,” he replied, settling Freya on the couch. “Did you see anything Mum?”

“
Oh yes. I was washing up at the time. Freya was upstairs getting some stuff together. I looked up and there was a face at the window.”

“
Can you describe the face?”

She thought hard.
“Not really, the rain was so heavy and it was only for a split second. They were dressed in black, that’s the only thing I registered.”

“
Male or female?”

“
Male I think but I can’t be certain. It scared the life out of me.”

“
Freya,” Craig said gently. “Can you describe what you saw?”

“
I can do better than that. I know who it was,” she said so quietly he had to strain to hear her.

“
Who?”

“
Father Alexander Logan,” she said, shivering at the name and hugging herself.

Craig thought about what Claire had said.
“It couldn’t have been him, he’s dead.”