The Elemental (Blair Dubh Trilogy #1) (9 page)

Craig detected the bitterness in her tone.

“And Father Logan?” said Steve.

“
He lived out the rest of his days in relative harmony. But in the last year of his life he seemed to disintegrate, became even more zealous, pulling everyone up for the slightest thing. He had a heart attack two years ago and now he’s buried in his own churchyard. With his death the Diocese decided that we could use St Bride’s at West Kilbride instead and closed the church. His mother Claire still lives in the Parish House, there’s not a force on earth that could shift her.”

“
So no one else was considered a suspect?” said Steve.

“
No. The popular theory was that it was a passing lunatic, which was ridiculous because if there had been a stranger wandering about the village killing women someone would have noticed.”

“
And Freya’s life went down the toilet. She was sacrificed so everyone could live in ignorance,” said Craig, suddenly very angry. Nora nodded in agreement.

“
But if Father Logan was guilty and he’s dead, who killed Catriona?” said Steve.

The three of them fell into apprehensive silence, the wind increasing in intensity until it positively screamed around the house. The lights briefly flickered before coming back on again and Steve stifled a shudder, glad he wasn
’t Gary Reid alone in a house where a woman had just died. But then again, Gary probably didn’t have enough imagination to be scared.

Craig rubbed his grainy eyes, he was shattered but his mind was too active for sleep. He kept running over what his mum had said about sin. Had Catriona sinned? Was that why she was murdered?

“Did you ever hear if Catriona was having an affair?” he said, following it up with a yawn.

“
She’s never been married so she’s no husband to cheat on but she always attracted lots of male attention, she was beautiful from being wee. She had quite a set of admirers.”

“
Maybe one of those admirers got jealous? Or maybe she had an affair with a married man?” offered Steve.

“
Clearly you didn’t know Catriona,” said Nora. “She did enjoy her little fan club but it was all harmless. She liked her freedom way too much to be involved in a relationship but I could be wrong. You need to talk to Lizzy, she was her best friend, she might know.”

“
I already have. She was definite that Catriona was single, no enemies, she wasn’t worried about anything. Just her usual self.” The notion of sin kept bothering Craig. He thought of Freya and everything she’d endured, the bad things she’d done. He got to his feet and wandered over to the window where he could see her cottage. He spied movement, the swirl of something in the wind perhaps? It seemed to hesitate outside Freya’s front door, its great cape billowing up around it. “Oh Christ. Steve,” he yelled, running for the door.

Snatching up his fluorescent jacket Craig stepped outside, the wind so strong he was almost knocked off his feet. Icy rain pelted him in the face. Head bowed, he made his way across the road, dodging the detritus swirling through the air. He was startled by a scraping sound to his right and an empty lobster pot went sliding across the ground before him. He tried to discern the big black shape he
’d seen from the window but it was impossible to make out anything in the storm, the hard rain running down his face and into his eyes. Before he was halfway across the road he was saturated.

Finally he made it down the road and hammered on Freya
’s front door.

“
Freya open up, it’s Craig.”

The light burning in the sitting room told him she was still awake. When she failed to answer he tried the handle but it was locked.

“Freya,” he bellowed, hammering harder, hardly able to hear himself over the storm.

To his relief the door opened and Freya staggered back in fright when she saw two police officers in fluorescent jackets.

“It’s me, Craig. Look,” he said, yanking off the jacket, instantly regretting his hastiness when cold water soaked his back. She looked past him to Steve standing behind him, her eyes wide with fear.

“
Take off your jacket,” Craig told him.

“
What?”

“
Take it off, I’m bloody ordering you.”

Craig was glad the wind carried away whatever Steve mumbled as he removed his coat because he knew it couldn
’t have been very complimentary to himself.

“
Can we come in? It’s vital that I speak to you,” he told Freya.

She nodded before retreating inside and they quickly followed, Steve gratefully closing the door behind them.

Freya hovered in the kitchen doorway hugging herself, anxious eyes continuously flitting between Craig and Steve, who were standing in her sitting room shivering and dripping water all over the carpet.

“
What do you want? It’s two o’clock in the morning,” she said in a weak voice.

“
I think you could be in danger,” replied Craig, “from whoever killed Catriona. I want you to stay at Mum’s until they’re caught.”

“
I’m fine here, I’ll keep the doors locked.”

“
You’re too isolated, you can’t be alone. If Steve makes you uncomfortable he can stay here,” he said, causing Steve’s eyes to widen.

“
I don’t know,” she replied.

“
Listen, if nothing else happens after a couple of days then we’ll know it’s an isolated incident and you can come back, but if another woman dies then…”

“
It’s happening again?”

He nodded.
“And I don’t want you to be the next victim.”

Freya was torn between fear of living at close quarters with a police officer and fear of suffering the same fate as her mother. She had to go with the lesser of two evils.
“Alright,” she eventually agreed.

“
Good. Throw some stuff in a bag and I’ll wait to escort you down the road.”

“
Okay,” she said before heading upstairs.

“
What’s up with your face?” Craig asked Steve, who looked distinctly edgy.

“
Nothing,” he mumbled, moving to stand by the fire, his clothes starting to steam as the water evaporated.

Freya came back downstairs clutching a rucksack then pulled on her coat and boots.

“Help yourself to whatever you want,” Freya told Steve, still careful to maintain a distance between them. “There’s plenty to eat in the cupboards and fridge. You can sleep in the room at the back, no offence but I don’t want you in my bed.” Craig couldn’t help but snigger inwardly at Steve’s indignant look. “There are candles in the kitchen cupboards in case of a power cut.”

Steve swallowed hard.
“Power cut?”

Divining what was bothering his colleague Craig smiled maliciously.
“Power cuts are common here when the storms get bad. They can last for days. It’s absolutely  pitch black at night, you can’t see a thing. Sometimes it feels like it’s the end of the world.”

“
Right, I’m ready,” said Freya as she zipped up her coat.

“
Are you sure you don’t want me to come back with you?” said Steve. “It would be better with two of us if there’s any trouble.”

“
Sorry, no room. Get some rest and meet me at Mum’s at six.”

With that Craig and Freya left, leaving a forlorn Steve behind.

“I’m going to have to put on my jacket to go down the road,” Craig told Freya in the porch.

She took a deep breath and nodded.
“In that case, you’d better let me go first.”

Just as he was pulling on his coat she yanked open the door and disappeared into the darkness.

“Freya, wait, it’s not safe. Bloody jacket,” he muttered when it got stuck halfway over his shoulders, almost pinning his arms to his sides. The wind stole the breath from his body as he stepped outside, making him gasp, the rain soaking him through again. He could just make out Freya’s figure ahead of him, racing for his mum’s front door. She looked back over her shoulder and when she saw him running after her she physically jumped and ran to the cottage door, frantically hammering on it when it refused to open. Under the light cast from the sitting room window he could see her clearly, eyes wide with fear. His mum opened the door and she stumbled inside, Craig following a moment later and he slammed the door shut and locked it before shrugging off the coat as quickly as he could.

“
What’s happened Freya? You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” said Nora.

She opened her mouth to reply but no words came out, her chest rising and falling as her breathing accelerated.

“I’ve taken it off, see?” said Craig, dumping the coat in a ball on the floor.

“
Don’t do that, it’ll go mouldy,” said Nora, picking it up and straightening it out before hanging it up.

“
I…I just need a minute,” said Freya, dumping her bag and racing upstairs.

“
What was that about?” demanded Nora.

“
Freya’s staying here until this blows over, she’s not safe alone. Steve is staying at her cottage.”

“
I’ll make you both some tea, you look freezing.”

Craig pulled the packet of hot chocolate out of Freya
’s rucksack and handed it to her. “Make her some of this instead, it’ll make her feel better.”

Upstairs Freya clung onto the sink, attempting to catch her breath. Seeing Craig running after her had so reminded her of Docherty it had been eerie. Once again the thought of a stiff drink was tempting, it would calm her down, she
’d feel so much better.

“
No,” she said firmly. She sadly gazed at her reflection. Just one more drink might be enough to put an end to all the fear and pain permanently. She could lie down with a couple of bottles of spirit and drift into blessed unconsciousness then just slip away. She probably wouldn’t even know anything about it. But she simply couldn’t do it to James, the one person who would miss her.

After splashing cold water on her face she headed back downstairs. The cottage had hardly changed in fifteen years. Some of the d
écor had been modernised but otherwise it was much the same as she remembered it; cosy, warm and best of all, safe. It was the first time she’d felt safe since she was eleven.

“
Oh, sorry,” she said, walking into the kitchen to find Craig in the middle of changing, his lower half encased in blue denim, his top half bare, revealing that tattoo.

“
Sorry, I was dripping wet,” he said, pulling on a grey jumper.

She continued to stare at him, unable to help herself. His eyes met hers and danced with mischief. When he saw her cheeks bloom with colour, excitement shot through him.

Craig shook himself out of it, there was no way he was going there. He’d just got out of one complicated relationship and he was determined he wasn’t going to get into another with someone who was so damaged. Neither could he allow himself to be distracted, he had an important job to do.

“
Hot chocolate’s ready,” said Nora and Freya blushed deeper. She hadn’t even realised Nora was there while she’d been staring at her son’s body.

They took their drinks into the sitting room. Freya curled up in the armchair by the fire, wrapping her hands around the warm mug. She was glad Craig had suggested she come here, she was tired of being alone. They sat in amiable silence drinking hot chocolate, listening to the storm continue to rage outside. Freya
’s eyes soon grew heavy and Nora caught the mug just before it slipped from her hand.

“
Let her sleep there, she’s exhausted,” said Nora quietly. “I’ll bring a duvet down for her.”

“
I’ll do it Mum, you get to bed. You look dead on your feet.”

“
Thanks for letting me help today Craig. It took my mind off your dad for a little while.” She kissed him on the cheek before climbing the stairs.

Craig brought down the duvet from the spare bed and tucked it around Freya. She was so out of it she didn
’t even stir.

“
It’s good to have you home,” he said softly before going up to bed himself.

CHAPTER 6

The following morning Freya was woken by a mug of coffee being placed on the table beside her and Nora
’s gentle smiling face.

“
Thanks,” she said, pushing herself upright.

“
You’re welcome Hen,” replied Nora, patting her hair.

“
Is it okay if I have a shower?”

“
Yes, I heard Craig come out of the bathroom a few minutes ago.”

Freya felt surprisingly refreshed after just four hours sleep. After what happened last night to Catriona she didn
’t think she’d feel relaxed enough to drop off. The hot water pounding over her was revitalizing and after drying off she padded across the hallway to the spare bedroom wrapped only in a towel, almost colliding with Craig, who emerged from his bedroom in his uniform black shirt and combat trousers and they both stopped in their tracks.

“
Morning,” he said.

“
Morning. Excuse me,” she replied, stepping past him.

He turned to watch her and saw a tattoo peeking out from the top of the towel, what appeared to be flames licking up her spine. He was curious to see the rest, wondered if it ran right down her back to the soft swell of her
….

“
Stop it,” he quietly told himself.

He went downstairs to find a drained-looking Steve in full uniform being served coffee, bacon and eggs at the kitchen table by his mum.

“Why have you got your stab vest on?” Craig asked him. “Are you worried Mum’s going to go on the rampage with the kitchen knives?”

“
I just thought it was a sensible precaution with a murderer on the loose.”

“
And what good protection it is against someone who drowns people,” he retorted sarcastically. He didn’t want Freya coming downstairs to the sight of a police officer in full uniform.

“
Alright, I’ll take it off.”

“
Where’s your coat?”

“
Hung up in the hallway. What’s with Freya and coats anyway?”

“
Never you mind, just keep it out of her sight, okay?”

“
Fine,” he sighed.

Nora gave Craig a questioning look, but he just shook his head.

“I’ll call Gary, he’s been alone over there long enough.”

Craig pulled out his mobile to phone PC Reid. The line was poor and after a couple of minutes of talking very loudly and repeating himself, Gary finally got the message that Craig wanted him to come over. He entered the cottage in a flurry of wind and rain, appearing well rested unlike Steve, who looked like he
’d spent the night jumping at every noise.

“
Jesus, I’ve never known weather like this,” grumbled Gary, pulling off his coat and shaking it out. “Why does anyone live in this miserable little village? Sorry,” he added when Craig gave him an incredulous look.

“
Mum’s made you some breakfast,” he said. “Although you probably don’t deserve it.”

Gary looked more cheerful already.
“Great, I’m starving.”

“
Leave your stab vest in here. When you’re in this house you only wear your shirt and trousers, got it?”

“
Why?”

“
Just do it.”

Freya came downstairs and sat at the kitchen table, picking at a plate of bacon and eggs. She
’d put her armour back on; thick black eye make-up, black lipstick, hair pouring over her shoulders in a raven cascade. She wore tight black jeans, a jumper with a large skull on the front and fingerless fishnet gloves, fingers bedecked with rings. Gary’s face lit up.

“
Good morning Miss Macalister. Are you staying here now?” he asked her.

“
Yes she is,” replied Nora, “and I’m determined to feed her up, you need to put on weight Freya.”

Freya opened her mouth to ask if Nora had any grapefruit instead of fried food then thought the notion might offend her, so she cut off a very small piece of bacon and reluctantly swallowed it.

“Good girl,” beamed Nora.

Gary sat beside Freya and started to discuss bands Craig had never heard of. He felt jealous, she looked so animated talking about something she loved and he wished he could join in. However he also knew Gary was full of shit and was using her love of music to chat her up. He couldn
’t allow that.

“
That’s funny Gary,” he said casually, “because that time you gave me a lift to work you had Michael Buble on the stereo.” He smiled when he heard Steve snigger into his coffee.

Gary was unperturbed.
“I like all sorts of music.”

“
Me too,” said Freya. “I love a lot of classical.”

When she and Gary resumed their conversation Craig glowered at his breakfast. After another ten minutes of their eager chatter he got to his feet and frowned at his constables, trying not to think about how annoyed he was.
“Right you two, enough messing about. We’ve got a job to do. Get out there and interview everyone again. They won’t come to us in this weather so we’ll have to go to them.” His tone was harsh but he was too pissed off to care. Why he was pissed off he wasn’t exactly sure.
She’s my friend, not his,
he snarled inwardly. He glared at both Gary and Steve, daring them to object. Neither of them did. “I’ll try and get hold of the DI, we need a detective here.”

“
No one’s getting in or out of this village until the storm’s over, it’s probably why your killer picked yesterday to kill poor Catriona.”

“
You’re probably right Mum.” A horrible thought occurred to him. “These storms tend to last a few days. If he’s going to do it again he’ll do it while we’re still cut off.”

“
You really think someone else is going to die?” said a small scared voice.

Craig gave himself a mental kick when he looked at Freya.

“I can’t see the killer trying to burn anyone in the woods in this weather. The flame would keep going out,” said Steve. He recalled what had happened to Freya’s mother and his head snapped up, cheeks bright red and stammering an apology. But Freya ignored him, her attention fixed on Craig.

“
It’s a possibility,” said Craig gently.

“
No it’s not. That was Logan and he’s burning in hell where he belongs,” she told him firmly.

“
We’re not sure what to think yet. Hopefully it’s just an isolated incident.”

“
What if it’s not?”

“
We’ve no evidence to suggest otherwise.” With that he picked up the landline and started to dial. “You two, get to it,” he called over his shoulder at Steve and Gary.

He was put through to DI Armstrong, but he could hardly hear a word she said the line was so bad.

“No way across,” he managed to catch. “Maybe two days….keep me informed.” There was a bout of swearing on her end then the connection went dead.

“
Great,” he sighed. “It looks like we’re on our own.”

“
You can handle it, you’re a good officer,” said Nora.

“
I don’t have the experience for this, I’m not a detective.”

“
You could be easily. You’re just as good as them.”

He thought her faith in him sweet, if a little misguided.
“Thanks Mum.”

“
After what you did in Inverness this should be no problem.”

“
What did you do in Inverness?” said Freya.

“
He only brought down the Bellfield Monster single-handed,” she said proudly. “A serial killer who’d murdered five women. Where were all those fancy-pants detectives then?”

“
It was only luck, not good police work.”

“
He came at you with a knife and you won.”

“
What?” Freya looked to Craig. “Why didn’t you tell me? That’s amazing.”

He just shrugged, embarrassed.

Freya felt guilty. She’d been so caught up in her own life that she hadn’t taken the time to ask about his. All she’d seen was the uniform and she was realising there was so much more to him than that.

“
It wasn’t much really.”

“
Don’t be so modest Craig, it was even in the papers down here,” said Nora.

“
Anyway, I’m going to have to interview you both again. Individually,” he told them, anxious to change the subject.

“
Why?” groaned Nora. “I already told you I didn’t see or hear anything.”

“
Fine but I would like to talk to Freya in private.”

“
I bet you would,” Nora said to herself as she left the room.

Craig gestured for Freya to retake her place at the table and he took the seat opposite.

“Have you finished with that?” he said, indicating her plate still full of food.

She grimaced and nodded.
“Nora’s a good cook but I can’t eat anything so heavy first thing in the morning.”

“
I know what you mean but if it isn’t greasy she doesn’t class it as breakfast,” he said, shoving the plate aside.

“
It’s a wonder you’re not obese.”

“
I’m often up and out before she’s awake,” he smiled. Those green eyes of hers locked with his and once again he was hit with something big and heavy. Annoyed with himself he dropped his inane grin and decided to get down to business. “Right, have you remembered anything else?”

“
Yes actually. Although I didn’t see anything I remember hearing something. Not at the time of the murder but later, just before you knocked on my door the second time.”

Craig thought of the figure he
’d seen but tried to keep his posture relaxed. “What did you hear?”

“
Someone moving around outside. It was probably just something blowing about in the wind.”

“
Probably,” he said, deciding to keep quiet about what he saw. For all he knew it was just a piece of loose tarpaulin fluttering about in the wind. Still, he was glad she was staying here. “I’m sorry to reopen old wounds but in light of what happened to Catriona I’m left with no choice. I believe you when you say Father Logan was The Elemental. What do you think was his motive?” he said, curious to hear her theory.

“
I didn’t put it together at the time, it was only years later when I was a bit more wordly-wise, but I think something was going on between him and my mum. I hate to say it but I do.”

“
You mean, they were having an affair?”

“
Logan came to the house a lot. When he visited I’d be sent upstairs or out to play. He was always so harsh, full of rough words, especially to me, he treated me like an inconvenience. I remember thinking shouldn’t a representative of God be kind and gentle?”

Craig
’s memories were all too clear of Freya when she was a little girl telling him the mean man in black was at their house again, but he didn’t want to lead her by mentioning it.

“
He used to snap at me to leave and Mum would tell him not to talk to me like that. He’d apologise but he didn’t mean it. I hated him even before he buried my mum alive. For years it was just her and me. She had the odd date but no one could ever compare to my dad. Then that arsehole came along and made me feel unwanted in my own home. I couldn’t understand why she was friends with such a horrible man but Logan was good-looking in a tall, scary sort of way. Do you remember what he was like when he was preaching? It was impossible to take your eyes off him, even when he was spouting all that fire and brimstone crap.”

“
I remember. He used to scare me to death.”

“
You weren’t the only one. People were afraid to blow their noses in front of him in case he told them they were going to hell for it.”

“
What do you think his motive was?”

“
He was off his head, plain and simple. I did some research. The elements are earth, air, fire and water, all symbols of purification. Logan was obsessed with sin. I think he thought all four women were bad so he decided they weren’t fit to live, in his arrogant way. Maybe in his twisted logic he thought he was saving their souls. To him Mum would have been the worst offender, tempting him onto the sinful path. It would have been just like that bastard to blame her for the affair and not take responsibility for his own actions.”

Craig found it very interesting that her theory tallied with their own. From what he remembered of Logan, his wild staring eyes, powerful voice and zealous ways, it was entirely plausible.
“That fits in with what my dad believed.”

“
Do you know there’s a fifth element?”

His eyes narrowed with interest.
“No.”