Shona had hoped that she and Rob could go for a run out to Knockie Point. The waistband of her jeans was definitely getting tighter. The recent avalanche of paperwork and DS O’Halloran’s fetish for donuts were the problem. Just inhaling their scent was enough to start the pounds piling on.
The latest guests, the talkative woman from Edinburgh and her silent husband, had left after breakfast. Becca had stayed at her friend’s house the previous night and wasn’t due home until teatime. Perhaps after the run and a shower she and Rob could even spend the afternoon in bed together getting properly reacquainted. She’d burst through the back door of the house when she returned and called out his name. In the utility room, silence and a laundry basket overflowing with guests’ crumpled bed linen had greeted her. In the kitchen sink, a greasy film had congealed over the breakfast plates. There was no sign of Rob. His mobile went straight to voicemail.
After setting the house straight she’d pulled on her running gear and worn out her rage and disappointment pounding the five miles of coastal path to Knockie Point and back. The sun and the fresh air had moderated her mood but there was still the sense of an opportunity lost.
As the last glow faded from above the western bank, Shona washed up her mug at the kitchen sink and decided she’d waited long enough. What a waste of a Saturday. She could have gone down to the Royal Arms, but her appearance in the singular would have been noted. In a small community like this it was all that was needed to start the rumour mill turning. She tried Rob’s mobile again. No joy. Becca was already back in her room zonked out from a sleepless sleepover at Ellie’s. As she climbed the staircase to their bedroom Shona tried to put her irritation to the back of her mind and concentrate on the preparations needed for the week ahead. There were guests arriving tomorrow, CID budget and multi-agency meetings on Monday and a quarterly staff performance review to complete. Shona also wanted to tackle Becca about subject choices and university open days before she went back to school. She’d need to be up early to get through everything.
The front door banged open and there was a burst of song. ‘South of the border, down Cumbria waaay’. Rob and his brother Sandy, a florid-faced bear of a man, lurched into view at the foot of the stairs. When Rob saw Shona’s expression, he shushed Sandy and attempted to climb the bottom steps in an exaggerated tip toe.
‘Where have you been?’ Shona asked in a level voice. Rob stopped dead in his tracks and kept his head down.
‘We’ve had a well-earned day out at Carlisle races, officer,’ said Sandy, stumbling forward with a broad grin and a mock salute. ‘All very innocent, officer.’
‘Don’t do that, Sandy, it’s not funny.’ She glared at her brother-in-law. ‘Have you been driving?’
‘No, no,’ he insisted, his smile faltering. ‘We’re sensible lads. We took a taxi.’
‘From Carlisle?’ Shona smiled and nodded. ‘Good idea, well done.’ Sandy looked mollified, but Rob had turned pale. ‘All the way from Carlisle,’ she continued. ‘Very sensible, gents. Oh, but I bet that cost you. On top of the drinking, and a wee flutter on the gee-gees, can’t have much change out of a couple of grand, that be about right?’
Rob was motioning Sandy to keep quiet, but his brother blundered on. ‘Yeah, ’bout right. £150 for the taxi, but better than losing your licence, eh?’ Sandy nodded sagely.
‘Is that right?’ Shona stiffened. She came down the stairs until she was eye-to-eye with her 6ft 3in brother-in-law. ‘Well, Sandy, I hope you like singing in a high register, because it won’t be your licence you’ll be losing when Caroline hears about this. Will it?’ Sandy’s formidable wife was in Edinburgh visiting her elderly mother. Sandy opened his mouth and closed it again, pale and silent. Eventually he said in a small voice, ‘She doesn’t need to know, does she?’
Shona ignored him and turned to Rob, who queasily clung to the bannister. She leaned down close to his face and said quietly. ‘Gambling? Don’t take me for a mug. I really don’t like that.’ She stood upright and fixed them both with a final glare. ‘We’ll talk again when you’re sober. Good night, Sandy, you know the way out.’
The realisation that Rob was gambling again had come like a gut punch. She turned and ran up the stairs, so he wouldn’t see her tears. She knew he missed the high stakes game of investment banking and that risk-taking was part of his personality, as much as it was an element of hers. But where she’d learned to harness the impulse, to coolly weigh up the options and shorten the odds, for Rob it was the risk itself, the chance of losing or winning it all that possessed him. That Rob had tried to keep it a secret from her was worse. When he’d left the bank and they’d come to this beautiful place, this new life, they’d made a pact to have no more secrets. But then didn’t she have a secret just as big, just as shameful, something that could destroy them as surely as drink or gambling or infidelity? And there was one thing she knew for sure. It was something she was never, ever going to share with him.
Chapter 3
The following Wednesday Shona took the call from Detective Constable Dan Ridley of Cumbria Police. He could find no trace of the unidentified woman recovered from the Solway Firth. Would Police Scotland help? Shona agreed, and the next morning, Ridley was leaning on the front desk at Cornwall Mount, the Divisional HQ in Dumfries.
DI Oliver watched him for a moment from behind the reception security glass. He was not as young as she’d first thought. Minus the anorak, the coltish, schoolboy look had gone. He stood with his suit jacket slung over his shoulder and there was a mature muscularity beneath his fitted white shirt. She judged him about thirty, the same decade as her, although at the opposite end of it. He was gripping an A4 zipped folder in his left hand. No wedding ring and, based on the poor job he was doing chatting up Janet, the civilian receptionist, it was likely to stay that way for a while. The desk clerk’s body language radiated a sullen boredom as she tapped the keyboard and glanced repeatedly at the wall clock. Shona decided to cut them both a break and buzzed open the door.
‘Thanks, Janet,’ she called. ‘DC Ridley, come through.’ They shook hands and she could see him taking in her own altered appearance, the RNLI waterproofs and lifejacket exchanged for a dark blue trouser suit, low heels, cream blouse, her unruly dark curls straightened into the smooth bob she always wore for work. They swapped pleasantries about Dan’s journey and the weather as they climbed to the first floor.
‘I’m about to start morning conference. You can brief us at the end.’ Shona ushered him into a meeting room.
‘Dan, this is DS Murdo O’Halloran.’ A stocky, fair man in his forties, with a firm grip and a battered rugby player’s face, got up and shook Ridley’s outstretched hand. ‘And this is DC Kate Irving.’ Shona indicated a tall, fine-boned woman in her twenties, wearing a crisp white blouse, her fair hair in a high pony tail. Kate Irving nodded to him coolly. ‘And DC Ravi Sarwar…’ Shona scanned the faces around the table. ‘Where is Ravi?’
‘Community Engagement Team,’ replied DS O’Halloran. ‘You signed off on him giving a Diversity and Inclusion briefing to the specials.’
‘You’re right, I did. And if they can survive Ravi for a morning, the mean streets of Dumfries should hold no further fears. But Murdo, don’t let the CET get too attached to him. I want him back, pronto.’ She turned to Ridley. ‘Find yourself a seat.’
The sun had edged round, and the small room filled with Shona’s team and a dozen s
upport staff was heating up. Windows ran the length of one wall. Dan Ridley chose a spot in the shade beneath them and sat down.
‘Morning, everyone,’ Shona addressed the group. ‘I’ve just had conformation that we will be supporting Operation Fortress. Our role will be only to assist in the arrests of low priority dealer and drug users. DCI Baird will be coming in to brief you in the next few days.’ There was a murmur of excitement. ‘In the meantime, this is DC Dan Ridley from Cumbria Police, he’s here for reasons that will shortly become apparent.’
Shona pulled her chair in towards the table and flicked open her folder. ‘Now, Murdo, can you bring us all up to speed on the overnights?’
All eyes slid to DC Ridley, a stranger in the room.
‘Go on,’ Shona commanded. ‘There’s nothing operational that isn’t fit for Ridley to hear. Same side, even if he is from England where they do have funny ways.’ There was a ripple of laughter and the room relaxed, attention switched to DS O’Halloran. ‘Murdo, off you go. What have we got?’
‘Couple of assaults and minor drug offences, they’ve been processed and will go before the Sheriff this morning.’ Murdo paused and ticked off a list before him. ‘Now, the baby milk thefts.’ A groan ran round the room which Shona silenced with a frown. ‘Co-op in town was hit last night. It’s the same story we’ve been hearing over the last few months. This time two guys came in, and while the shop assistant’s back was turned they cleared the baby milk shelf and walked out. Six cans. Gone before uniform could get down there.’
‘Just the baby milk?’ asked DC Kate Irving. ‘No booze or high-value items?’